New shop find: Leaf & Kettle

Found another great tea shop, drank some more superb teas — this time north of San Diego in Del Mar, Calif. The local tea-meetup gathered at Leaf & Kettle to learn about this excellent independent shop and to sample some of their offerings. It was one of those nights when the social chemistry sparked a bit (unusual for meetups), the shop impressed, and the tea absolutely wowed.

Leaf & Kettle has been open in a fancy outdoor mall for a couple of years. It's a classic, simple shop built around a tea bar, behind which are a few dozen stainless steel urns full of teas. Their alluring inventory is available online.

Jenna, the manager, poured three teas for our group. First, the organic Kagoshima Sencha, an aromatic spring green from Japan. The first cup was typically vegetal, even grassy (in that good Sencha way). The surprise was the second cup, produced with a counterintuitive shorter steep, which produced more bang for the buck, as it were. One of those teas that seems so light but really packs a wallop.

Next was the stunner: their Hunan Honey Black. Dry, it smells like brandy and freshly baked honey buns. In the cup, it's a rich black tea with a dessert finish — not uncomfortably sweet, not at all off-putting — tasting of chocolate-covered graham cookies. I say that with some irony, because those exact treats were on our table; this tasting note, however, was jotted down before eating one, which I did while enjoying the second steep (which really brought the unsweetened cacao flavor to the fore). The pairing was supreme.

The closer was a tea cocktail of sorts: she mixed an oolong and a fruit herbal (she also added some sliced fresh strawberries) over ice in a cocktail shaker, shook, and poured into glasses with ice and fresh mint sprigs. Very tasty, smooth, refreshing — if you go for the iced stuff. We asked for a second steep of the oolong by itself, Formosa Silk, which was an earthy delight — milky, buttery, a hint of sauteed mushrooms maybe. Had to buy some of that, eager to pair it with dinner.

It is a wonderful feeling, particularly after relocating to a new city, to find that tea shop that connects, that seems to offer just what your palette craves. Leaf & Kettle, hurrah, does so without the come-on of so many tea start-ups. Just a smart, classy joint.

Remembering John D. Harney

I'm late in celebrating the life of John D. Harney, founder of Harney & Sons, who passed away early in the summer.

An early "missionary of tea," Harney bought a small tea company as a savvy business move and turned it into the spearhead of America's tea renaissance in the 1980s. "All we wanted to do was get out there and convert — sort of like St. John with his gospel of tea," he said in an interview, as quoted in his NYTimes obit. "That’s what I consider myself."

Tea writer Bruce Richardson elaborates more personally in his appreciation piece, describing in detail how the missionary fervor came over Harney in his pursuits.

I enjoyed a brief afternoon chat with Harney years ago. He was immanently affable, humorous, and wise. He even read my tea leaves. You can read that old post here.

Smoke and sweetness

Magazine recommendation: Imbibe. It's a well-made, well-edited bimonthly for discriminating lushes like myself, but it doesn't skimp on the coffee and tea features.

The latest March/April edition features two items of note. First, there's a great profile of Steven Smith, the founder of two of the country's most influential tea brands, Stash and Tazo. It's a smart profile of the entrepreneur and his latest, sourced-tea venture.

Second, with the issue's focus on the Pacific northwest, there's a crazy cocktail recipe tacked onto a short feature about Clear Creek Distillery's liqueur made from Douglas fir trees. The cocktail — which sounds insane, great, and insanely great — is called Smoke Signals: bourbon, lemon and orange juices, the fir liqueur, plus a "lapsang souchong tea syrup" (which is just a half cup of the tea, sweetened).

I've used lapsang souchong to add smoke to meats and stews. It's so much better and more effective than liquid smoke. An actual simple syrup made with the piney tea would open up new avenues for flavoring, say, ice cream, apple, anything with maple, maybe subbing for some of the Karo in a pecan pie...?

Look for the yellow label

Just a cool vintage Lipton ad, circa 1935 ...

(via Klappersacks)

Tuesday tea tune: Righting all wrongs

Tea solves all life's problems, right? That's the idea behind this new promotional video from Yorkshire Tea — they of the nifty slogan, or as Rufus Wainwright calls them "the crystal meth of tea." Come for the nifty theme, stay for the impressive single-take tracking shot. (There's even a behind-the-scenes video about the making of.)

Monthly clubs, and Tea Horse

Years ago I joined a wine club (through a then-trendy magazine that, go figure, still exists), a monthly subscription service that delivered two choice bottles of California reds to my doorstep in a particularly dry Midwest wine desert. I thus learned about wine in the best way possible — by drinking varieties I otherwise would not find or think to buy. The same lesson applies to tea, and may be even more applicable. If you're going to sample teas, you want to sample good teas, smartly selected. A monthly club can be just the ticket.

Many good clubs are out there — Golden Moon runs a good one, with special attention to seasonal flavors; Teavana has a few, depending on whether you love or scorn Teavana; 52 Teas used to run a weekly service for comparable pricing, though it often included ridiculous flavored blends like chocolate-and-bacon pu-erh; or I've heard praise of the top-drawer Teance clubs.

Recently, I was sent some samples from a new subscription service, Tea Horse. The British company, named for the famed overland route through Asia, ships monthly taster boxes containing four teas. The kicker: many of the teas are selected with guidance from Tim Clifton, a longtime tea expert in the UK and a regular leader of tea classes alongside Jane Pettigrew.

The samples I received were pretty good; I'll zero in on two. The first-flush Darjeeling, from the remote Jungpana estate, remains an impressive traditional tea. I tasted this some weeks ago when it was still fresh (apologies for the writing delay), and it's remarkable how strong the aroma comes on in the cup — a surprise for such an early tea. The musky taste barrels on, too, with the confidence and strength of a second-flush. The packet suggests a nuttiness, which I didn't get; the floral notes, though, yes, very — rosy, but not (ironically) a tea rose or something similarly sweet. The floral notes really mellowed in the pot, too, so that the last couple of cups were like sipping from the rim of a honeysuckle blossom. A fine tea.

Readers here may know I'm a fool for Keemun, so the Tea Horse Mao Feng merely faced a tough tongue to impress. Its flavor is strong but hollow, lacking the subtle wisps of smoke and/or spice I'm used to. But it's a definite two-stage rocket — a Darjeeling musk at the end, tying off some initial hints of cocoa and fruit (not citrus, but something fleshy, like a peach or a mango). Handsome enough.

Barry's loose leaf Gold Blend, at last

San Diego's Old Town neighborhood is a touristy bastion, crammed with Mexican restaurants and trinket shops hawking ponchos and sombreros. It's the least likely place on the coast, perhaps, to find good tea. Yet that's exactly why I went.

I'd run out of Barry's, you see. Hadn't had any since we moved. Despite being a center of gravity for local Hispanic culture, smack in the middle of the neighborhood is the Irish Import Shop. (Tea lore lovers might enjoy that the shop is even located on Harney Street.) I dashed in, spotted the goods in the back — shelves of Heinz beans and bottles of Goodall's of Dublin, past the "Kiss Me, I'm Irish" T-shirts and racks of shamrock pendants and pennants — and grabbed boxes of Gold Blend. As I approached the counter, clutching the boxes to my breast and with surely a look of relief on my face, the proprietor looked at me and said, "Oh, you were on a mission, weren't you?"

I'd always enjoyed Barry's — Ireland's stout standard, "a real broth of a brew" — in bags, because that's all I've found in the off-isle aisles. This shop had some loose leaf, also in the Gold Blend, a dark grainy Assam stuff that's turned out to be splendid if a bit easy to over-brew. Mornings (and my oatmeal) are back to normal.

Le Creuset mugs!

Do you have or covet a favorite piece of Le Creuset bakeware? Silly question. To the point: Did you know they made mugs, too?

Pick out a favorite color — or one that matches your French Oven — and sip your tea with the same high-quality standards as the company's kitchen stuff. Speaking of cleaning tea stains — with this beautiful enamel you shouldn't have to.

The power of the powder

We recently moved across the country, which meant several days shacking up with hospitable, patient family and friends as well as crummy lil' motels. (I once wrote a song called "The Couch Tour," and here we were decades later embodying it.) Translation: My tea regimen was a mess. I'll spare you the kvetching about the perils of in-room coffee makers, friends who don't have kettles, and bloody Lipton bags.

But I'll share a tip I thought I'd shared here before: Rishi's on-the-go matcha and sencha.

I first encountered these through some samples, which proved valuable additives to my music-festival kit bag. As a pop music critic, packing for a three-day fest such as Lollapalooza or the great Pitchfork Music Festival (both in Chicago — the latter occurs this coming weekend with a lively lineup) involved planning for hydration and energy. While a cup of hot tea could be had at Pitchfork and was refreshing even in the scorching summer heat, tea products often are in short supply at such events (though Sweet Leaf has been a frequent Lolla sponsor). But what can you find everywhere at a festival grounds? Bottled water.

Enter Rishi's clever product. Their portable packets of matcha and of powdered sencha tea are midday life savers in such conditions. Pop a bottle of water, take a sip (to free up a little room), empty the small packet of tea powder into the bottle, shake like a MF. Presto — a cool bottle of energizing, invigorating and hydrating tea! Useful in a pinch throughout our moving experience, but invaluable for outdoors afternoons and events.

Tea at Downton Abbey

All these months later, poor Dan Stevens is still apologizing for his character's deathly exit from the popular BBC series "Downton Abbey." In some of my catch-up reading recently, I came across an exclusive interview with Lady Carnarvon, the current resident at Highclere Castle (real-life stand-in for Downton Abbey) in the Coffee & Tea Newsletter.

In it, Lady Carnarvon describes the afternoon tea still presented at the castle (which now is a busy tourist attraction) and outlines the menu (egg and cress sandwiches, scones, jam, the works, plus a Victoria sponge cake), serving Earl Grey and breakfast blends. Answering a question about how afternoon tea has evolved over time, the lady says, "Not at Highclere," where the tea traditions have "stayed much the same, although we don't have tea in the Drawing room ever, tea is taken in the Salon or sometimes in the Music Room." She reiterates this again later in the Q&A: "Teatime has stayed the same, no special traditions."

For your summer garden party, Adagio has, of course, crafted a Dowager Countess blend, described as "stately and floral with a bit of smokiness for contrast. An elegant cup for an elegant lady/fearsome matriarch."

Remember, it would be a pity to waste a good pudding. #wordstoliveby

From the kettle to the dog bowl

Rufus, our big white Muppet of a dog, usually joins me for tea. For the company, anyway. He curls up in his chair opposite me, and I confess I've wished sometimes that he could share a cup.

Make no mistake, giving regular tea to a dog would not be a great idea. Canine heart rates are high as it is. The last thing you'd want to do is hop up a dog on caffeine, which isn't great for dogs (neither is milk or sugar).

One tea company, California Tea House, has manifested this thought in an actual product: Machu's Blend, Tea for Dogs. They claim:

After consulting with numerous veterinarians, and compiling research on herbal treatments for canines, we put our tea blending skills to work for our canine companion. Machu's Blend tea for dogs is a once-a-day herbal tea comprised of Chamomile, Ginger Root, Fennel Seed, Skullcap and Calendula that not only promotes healthy skin and coat for your dog, but also lowers stress and aids digestion of dry dog food, easing the stomach and reducing gas. In addition, Machu's Blend is great for the prevention of bloat and treating dogs that suffer from seizures as well as motion sickness caused by car rides.

Beyond that, there's an additional whole line of herbal teas for dogs called Woof and Brew — five different blends allegedly perfect for pooches.

I still wouldn't recommend it, but there it is.

A cuppa veggies?

Check this out: Numi Organic Tea introduces a new line today — Savory Teas. It's quite a large line of blends using black tea, spices and (here ya go) veggies. A press release hawks them for a variety of occasions: "They can be a satisfying, low-calorie snack alternative, a great complement to a light lunch, a delicious brew for cooking rice or noodles, a comforting cup when a cold or flu strikes, a pick-me-up on a hike or camping trip, an easy-to-prepare mood booster at work or on the road, or a perfect pairing to cheese and crackers." Well, I certainly boil rice in leftover tea all the time ...

I'm intrigued!

Here's the lineup:

Tomato Mint
This bright Mediterranean infusion is reminiscent of the sweet savory scent of stuffed grape leaves (dolmas). The combination of ripe tomatoes, mint leaves, decaf black tea, a touch of cinnamon and lemon peel makes for a zesty, mouthwatering cup.

Spinach Chive
Layers of steamed spinach greens give way to the mouthwatering fullness of this savory brew. The citrus notes of Numi’s Dry Desert Lime tickle the roof of your mouth as coriander teases your taste buds. Dill, chive and decaf green tea are the perfect finish to this well-rounded, yet complex, blend.

Fennel Spice
Coaxed by the soothing scents of freshly cut fennel, this crisp concoction will transport you to the enchanting European countryside. The soaring flavors of sweet licorice envelop the earthy fullness of celery root while slivers of orange peel and decaf green tea delight the palate.

Carrot Curry
Be transported to the heart of India with the rich exotic flavors of curry, turmeric and ginger. Kissed by sweet carrots and bright cilantro, the earthy, vegetal and piquant notes are marvelously woven together into this full-bodied blend.

Broccoli Cilantro
As pungent aromas lure you into this abundant garden, the hearty flavors of broccoli, celery leaves and cilantro capture your palate. Turmeric and decaf green tea deliver a peppery roundness. Come home and relax to a cup of Broccoli Cilantro’s sweet lingering taste.

Beet Cabbage
A bright crimson hue welcomes you into delightful scents of clove. This smooth buttery blend is rooted with beets and cabbage and delicately spiced with mustard seed and coriander. The finish is accented by sweet notes of apple and decaf black tea.

Garden Sampler
A cornucopia of vegetables herbs and spices await you, ready to nourish and warm you from the inside. This Garden Sampler holds a variety of our delicious and satisfying Savory Teas. The box contains two bags of each of the new flavors: Tomato Mint, Carrot Curry, Fennel Spice, Spinach Chive, Beet Cabbage and Broccoli Cilantro.

Whaddya think?

Yes, let's

Just sharing this photo, which was Facebooked by a couple of friends who've just relocated to Leeds, UK. I couldn't help giggle more than I probably should have at the box of Yorkshire Tea in the background.

I came for the "160 bags for the price of 80"; I stayed for the fabulous slogan: "Let's have a proper brew." Henceforth, I shall begin each teatime with that gentle but insistent prelude.

Teas I've been tasting

I don't do a lot of reviewing on this site, but here are some splendid teas I've been drinking recently ...

Stash Tea's organic Lu'an Gua Pian green tea has been a delight, a summery green throughout this thus-far mild winter. It's an open, flat leaf, like a Japanese green, but with a sweet taste — more floral than vegetal, especially on the finish — and a bright yellow liquor. Great on its own.

A colleague from China passed along a packet of wonderful green tea from the Enshi Huazhi organic tea company. I'd relay more details if I could read the package. Bright green in the cup, good grassy flavor, great for gongfu.

A new location for Adagio Teas has opened in downtown Chicago, and on a rainy afternoon I finally stopped in for some sampling. I made two discoveries. First, I'm not much of an herbal drinker, but I'd just had a massage and was looking for something without caffeine — and I had a pronounced craving for hibiscus. I was guided to the Wild Strawberry, full of fruit (pieces of apple and berries), hibiscus and rose hips. Totally not my thing, but I really enjoyed it and bought some; not a bad dessert tea. The star in Adagio's lineup, though, is the Fujian Rain, a fired oolong with an eye-opening balance of flavors: woody, barely smoky, and every cup tastes like you steeped it with mineral water.

'Modern Marvels' episode about tea

Last week I watched an episode of "Modern Marvels," a series on the History channel that promotes industrial boosterism by examining the various whizz-bang technical creations behind modern manufacturing and consumption.

The episode on tea is interesting — and eye-opening — for its footage of several tea factories, from Bigelow's U.S. factory to the Celestial Seasonings sinus-clearing mint room. The clip below (the full episode used to be on Hulu but has now expired) shows the Charleston facility — its conveyor belts, its shredders, all kinds of whirring blades and spiraling screws that'll make you appreciate the hand-rolled stuff. Interesting, though, to peer behind the curtain a bit ...

Marketing 101, with Prof. Earl Grey

You can create all the funky new flavors you want, but don't mess with the original.

Twinings found that out recently when the venerated British tea company decided to "refresh" its Earl Grey recipe, adding "a dash of lemon and a touch more bergamot," and relaunching it under the company's Aromatics line of flavored teas. "The Earl himself couldn’t have imagined how wonderful his favourite tea could taste," Twinings claimed.

The reviews (many via a Facebook protest page) came in quickly, and they were not "wonderful":

• "I took a big gulp expecting it to taste lovely and bergamotty but to my utter dismay (and horror as I nearly spat it out) it tasted like lemon cleaning product - vile."
• "I have to say it is utterly gross. We wont be buying it in the office again."
• "It stinks, rather like lemon Fairy Up Liquid and is unpleasant to taste. I threw the contents of my box out into the compost."
• "I can't drink the new blend. The false lemon flavour is just horrid.
• "I cannot describe how awful this new tea tastes. The old award-winning tea was in a completely different league to this foul-tasting dish water."

A Twinings spokesman reported that, of course, the company had conducted "rigorous consumer tasting" before unleashing the new product and received a "strong preference feedback over the previous blend."

In a move that brings back memories of the New Coke scheme, Twinings announced last week on its website that they were giving in to popular demand — "Whilst many love the new Earl Grey, a group of Earl Grey fans have asked us to make the previous blend available. Not wishing to disappoint, we have introduced Earl Grey The Classic Edition," the statement reads — thereby shrewdly and cheaply reminding the British public of its national treasure.

The origins of Earl Grey tea and its bergamot-tinged recipe have been debated for ages, but Twinings made it the household name it still is today. The company first sold the blend in 1831, naming it after then-Prime Minister Charles Grey.

The return of the East India Company (yes, that one)

The East India Company lives again — and, get this, it's now Indian-owned.

The ultimate symbol of British imperialism and capitalist extremes, with an impressive history, the East India Co. was dissolved more than a century ago. But Mumbai-born Sanjiv Mehta opened a fine-foods shop last summer in London using the famous name, to which he'd acquired the official rights and trademarks (even the coat of arms). While the new East India Co. has no plans to dominate global trade again, it is offering — how could it not? — a sizable array of teas.

I've tasted one, and it's pretty extraordinary. Though I enjoy a quality Earl Grey on rare occasions, I've never found citrus flavors very complementary to black tea. (If you do, check out this run-down of citrus and tea.) East India offers a really pleasant alternative: a mango tea. Many brands offer mango teas (Adagio's is good), and East India's ranks high among them. To a surprisingly strong black tea is added dried mango fruit and mango oil, rounding out a remarkably full-bodied tropical flavor without becoming cloying or gimmicky. It doesn't strut through the door as a boorish Flavored Tea, you know? I've really enjoyed this, and I can't wait to ice it this summer.

Pictures of the shop and information about some of their other teas — from a Jane Pettigrew tea tasting there — can be found here.

Tasting my way into the Rishi Tea line

Rishi Tea was recently in Chicago, offering a tea tasting at the Metropolis Roasting Garage (an airy warehouse space in Andersonville where they roast the coffee beans). Metropolis, often cited as the city's best coffee house — and thankfully in my 'hood — started selling and steeping Rishi's teas a while back. Hallelujah.



Already a big fan of their China Breakfast — a superb, all-Yunnan black beauty — I was happy to have some one-stop shopping of their other flavors. The organic and fair-trade green jasmine raised my eyebrows, and I'm not always a jasmine kind of guy. Two flavored oolongs are worth noting, too, for different reasons. The plum oolong is surprisingly awesome — a sure-footed oolong with mild oxidation and a tangy but light fruit flavor and a crisp finish. I'm going to try this after a meal, either with dessert or in place of it (or between courses? it's kind of a great palate cleanser). Rishi's new coconut oolong, however — ick. Tastes exactly like licking a freshly oiled sunbather, and not in a good way.

Starbucks new Trenta size makes for big gulp

I drink a lot of tea throughout the day, so perhaps I shouldn't snicker at this. But Starbucks is rolling out its new beverage size, and it gives new meaning to the concept of a big gulp. Previously, Starbucks has offered coffee and tea in cups designated, in order from smallest to largest, Tall, Grande, Venti. They've now added Trenta, a whopping 31-oz. cup. How big is that? Bigger than the capacity of the human stomach, for one, and big enough to contain an entire bottle of wine, with room for cream ...



Hot beverages are not offered in this size, but a lemon-flavored iced tea is included among the selections. As a Southern native, I can tell you: It's a legal requirement below the Mason-Dixon to serve iced tea in cups at least this big.

Will the next mayor of Chicago drink tea?

Launching and running a tea business seems like a benevolent action that could only generate positive press — unless (a) you're running for mayor of Chicago and (b) your business tanks.

Former senator and U.S. ambassador Carol Moseley Braun is one of the hopefuls seeking to replace retiring Richard M. Daley as Chicago's mayor next month. I've considered her as a candidate not only based on her record but, admittedly, also because she's a tea lover. She likes to take afternoon tea at the Four Seasons here, and in 2005 she launched her own tea and spice company, Ambassador Organics.

Braun was an ambassador in New Zealand from 1999 to 2001. Perhaps she experienced the country's fledgling tea industry — now producing some tasty oolongs — and got inspired. But, alas, Ambassador apparently has not fared well. When you're up for public office, you release your tax returns. Braun's show the company has lost at least $365,000. Not great news for someone seeking to manage a city with a $6 billion annual budget, though navigating the emerging markets for tea might not be directly comparable to making sense of Chicago's fiscal labyrinth.

It's a shame, because Ambassador sources only organic, biodynamic and fair-trade teas. "I founded my small business not in a downtown office, but in a South Side neighborhood, guided by the same principles and values that I fought for in government," Braun said recently. I've only tasted a hibiscus herbal blend, but I remember it was as snappy as Braun's personality.