Just a photo of my newest teapot. I plucked it from the shelves of a Persian grocery in Chicago's Andersonville neighborhood. It's the kind of place that would either thrill or frighten you. For me: both. Cheap trinkets up front, and a lot of Iranian music CDs. But in back ... miles of aisles of tea, much of it boxed and on shelves, still more of it lying in big plastic bins, poorly marked. I scooped out some "black tea with cardamom" (which was fabulous after a recent Moroccan feast at home) as well as some "green tea with lemongrass" (a surprising summer refreshment). The pot I had to take, too. It's cheaply made, but simply attractive. And, c'mon, it's got a handpainted portrait of a cheerful looking fellow with medals and a moustache. Daniel immediately named him the Royal Emperor of Teatime, and so he shall remain ...
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