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Happy Friday. This absolutely cracked me up.

Tuesday tea tunes: Tea means peace

I love this weary little tune about a romantic quarrel — "Harvard Hands" by the Foxymorons — simply because the singer knows how to make things all better, announcing mid-song, "Baby I can end this fight / A cup of tea will make it right."

All in all, it's just another (teacup) in the wall

More cool tea design — Teacup Tiles. Nice purely as accents but also functional. Store teaware in the cup, hang keys or freshly cut herbs off the hook.

[ via Teaspoons and Petals ]

Today's pu-erh moment, aerial view

Just a photo of today's pu-erh moment, with my yixing pot in its silk cozy.

Tuesday tea tunes: The sounds of Ceylon

A tea pal once joked that the lyrics to Simon & Garfunkel's classic "Bridge Over Troubled Water" should have been: "Ceylon, silver girl ..." With that idea planted, enjoy the tune anew, and may the water in your kettle never be troubled ...

Tea = mc2

Yesterday, as I gazed out the sunroom window, I finished the last of some Grey Dragon oolong. I'm not one to filter my cups, so mine had developed some lovely leafy sediment. As I set the cup on the table and watched the leaves stir, then sink, then settle neatly in the bottom of the cup, I remembered Einstein's tea leaf paradox. Why do they always settle in the center? Einstein figured it out.

For kicks, I grabbed my copy of Tea Leaf Reading and had a go. Oolong's not the best tea to read, especially with leaves this large. I thought mine looked like letters, actually: a T and an I. Letters, so says the highland seer, signify news. Well, T.I. did just get sent back to jail ...

Nifty tea mug for tea bag users

I love good tea design, and the folks at Yanko rarely disappoint. Dig this handy mug — with a notch for the tea bag string (keeps the tag from slipping into the tea) plus a hollow, shallow bottom under the mug and over the saucer (thus the name, the Tea Coffin) for stashing the bag once the tea has brewed ...



Check out the whole page of photos, which includes a few shots of a nifty kettle/carafe. Available in December.

When it comes to kettles, I've gone electric

I have retired my tea kettle.

My acoustic one, anyway. I've gone electric.

I'd grown weary of the stove top, particularly since I recently packed my tea cabinet with some good oolongs. The gas fire boils the water just fine, but how to reach 190 degrees? I tried it from both sides. I stuck a thermometer in the kettle's whistle-hole, and watched and watched and ... doh! I always got distracted and missed the 190 mark. Or I'd bring it to full boil, then use an iPhone app to time the cool-down. But those are always estimates, never precise.

So after reading this story in Wired a couple of months ago, I went fishing for electric kettles. Wired tested four and picked the Cuisinart PerfecTemp Cordless Programmable Kettle. After my own research, their decision sounded great. I pounced. And it's awesome.




The Cuisinart kettle is magnificent for all these reasons:

• It's blazing fast. I've had to alter my whole teatime prep schedule around it, since I'm used to waiting and waiting for the stove.
• It brings water to six preset temperatures: 160 (delicate), 175 (green), 185 (white), 190 (oolong), 200 (french press) and boiling (black). It seems to be remarkably accurate.
• It holds the selected temperature for 30 minutes. This is a dream. It keeps the water hot while you do other things. Also, if you're hosting a tasting, you can move quickly from tea to tea without waiting so long for the kettle.
• Super simple to use, with illuminated buttons and an illuminated window for measuring water amount.
• And it's not bad looking on the countertop. Nicely designed.

Wired noted one drawback: "Tough to get your hand inside for a good scrubbing." The lid is prohibitive. But, using filtered water, I haven't had much to worry about yet.

And, of course, I do miss the music. But I can whistle my own tune.

Tuesday tea tunes: 3 little maids from the tea field

Just as great song emerged from the cotton field workers of the southern United States, songs were created in the old tea fields, too. Here's a Japanese one called "Cha-Tsumi" (Tea Picking) that finds the singer imploring fellow pickers: "Pick all you can, young maids, for if you / do not, we Japanese will have no tea!"

The Hottle is nottle a good idea

Gaze upon this instrument of torture, fellow tea lovers, and band together with me to eradicate this scourge from our dining and tea-sipping experience!

Tell me I'm not alone. Tell me you hate these things, too — the small, bulbous glass carafes used in restaurants and particularly hotels to deliver refills and (shudder) tea and coffee. Do you know what's called? Restaurant supply stores label it a Hottle, a mutant combo bottle that allegedly keeps liquids hot. The ribbed, black plastic neck allows you to pour hot liquids without scalding. No doubt it's easier to wash than a teapot.

I'm just on a tear because a lovely new restaurant has opened in our 'hood, and they use Hottles to serve tea. They might be convenient in the kitchen, but they're pretty horrible for tea service. You have to cram a bag down that plastic gullet, and stir it in. The glass doesn't keep the water hot at all. Pouring from that wide mouth results in dribbling every single time, poured slowly or quickly. I'm going to have to speak to the owners, give them some better suggestions. I'm just going to have to be that guy.

But, as a recent T Ching post says, I'm willing to demand better tea service! Who's with me?

Tuesday tea tunes: Tea with a supergroup

Like Pioneers is a good new band built from several old ones. The Bound Stems, Chin Up Chin Up, the Narrator and others — these were acclaimed Chicago bands. Now members from each of them have come together as Like Pioneers. The debut album, "Piecemeal," is a rewarding batch of thoughtful pop-rock.

For today's track, "Teakettles, No. 1," click here to listen and/or download. It's a moody tune driven by a plucky pump organ.

CSI: Darjeeling

We love Laura Childs' teashop murder mysteries here at t2. While those stories are bloody good fun, it seems a cup of tea sometimes is found at real-life crime scenes. Here's a round-up of recent incidents where things boiled over ...

A British woman becomes annoyed with her companion, so she puts bleach in his tea. She was jailed on a charge of "maliciously administering a poison or noxious thing with intent to injure, aggrieve or annoy." The man is standing by her.

This man was arrested for chucking his cup of tea at his wife.

British prisoners may have poisoned the tea of two guards.

Enjoying your tea at a shop near a busy street? Maybe don't sit next to the window.

Two women stole several cases of bottled iced tea from a convenience store, then (oops) hit an elderly man with their car while trying to make their getaway.

I know you have to get all that food to the wedding, but why don't you stop for some tea first. Atta boy. ... Uh oh, someone stole your catering van!

We hear about people being scalded by to-go coffee all the time. This to-go tea sent a toddler to the burn center.

This is an oldie, but I'll link it again: A woman shot in the head makes tea for the police when they arrive.

Tuesday tea tunes: Sweet baby jelly

"Jenny put the kettle on ..." Never a big fan of James Taylor, this is a pretty priceless performance of "Jellyman Kelly" from an old "Sesame Street," complete with spirited children more than making up for JT's lack of energy. And at least we don't have to censor any cleavage here ...

Some fresh Holyfield ear with your scone, Mr. Tyson?

Why? This video doesn't answer that question, but it is an amusing moment with someone I wouldn't expect to enjoy tea time with: boxer Mike Tyson. "Earl Grey sucks," he declares ...

Over the moon for equinox and Chinese festival

Last night, I stepped outside late for a breath of air. Great night for it: room temperature, a friendly breeze, the city seemed loose-limbed and comfy. I'd been sipping pu-erh while working. I was in tea mind.

The moon is something I try not to take for granted, and last night it wouldn't let me. The air must have been unusually clear, because even through the heart of Chicago's light pollution I've never seen such a crisp, bright round glow. With my naked eyes, I could make out more features than I'm used to. It hung proudly in the sky, just to the southeast, and shone forth the very definition of radiance. Arresting, tracks-halting, gasp-worthy. And directly below it, like a diamond pendant, hung Jupiter. Crown jewels laid out on indigo velvet.

I didn't know till this morning that what I was looking at had a slight astronomical significance. It was a "super harvest moon." Summer ended and autumn began shortly after I stepped outside, at 10:09 p.m. Central. A full moon, particularly a harvest moon, rarely occurs on the equinox — thus the "super" additive. The position helps make the moon brighter, bolder. (Some photos here.)

I was, however, aware that yesterday was the Mid-Autumn Festival on the Chinese lunar calendar — also called the Moon Festival. The central sweet treat offered in China and Vietnam for this festival is the mooncake, a round, fluted pastry filled with a lotus-seed paste (easy recipe here). I was served these once with gongfu, but at a much different time of year. Next year, I'll plan ahead, "super" or not.

Watch the 'Tea Mavericks' panel discussion

I finally caught up with this interesting tea event, a discussion with five "tea mavericks," held last week at Samovar in San Francisco. The folks are Rishi Tea CEO Joshua Kaiser, noted tea writer James Norwood Pratt, Numi Tea CEO Ahmed Rahim, the leader of info-sharing website Digg, Kevin Rose, and tea source expert David Lee Hoffman, with Samovar founder Jesse Jacobs. It's about an hour, and you can watch here ...

Tea Mavericks of America from jesse jacobs on Vimeo.

Tuesday tea tunes: Return of the lung ching

OK, let's return to our Tuesday tunes, via YouTube until something better and embeddable comes along.



Erykah Badu's "On and On" — in which she sings: "I'm feelin' kind of hungry ’cause my high is comin' down / Don't feed me yours ’cause your food does not endure / I think I need a cup of tea ..."

Tea smokin' in Carolina, and Lady Grey's drunk

Catching up on some magazines — found a couple of interesting features:

Food & Wine's Sept. issue has a profile of North Carolina chef Andrea Reusing. The writer launches the piece mentioning that he first heard of her when a restaurant co-worker asked him, "Have you heard about the woman in Chapel Hill smoking chicken over tea?" Loved by celebrities and rock stars as well as lucky locals, her restaurant, Lantern, is revered worldwide despite its relatively remote location. For her "legendary tea-smoked chicken," Reusing brines the birds in a spicy mixture, then uses a combo of rice, tea, spices and chile to smoke with. The full recipe is here. (The magazine previously interviewed her here. My Earl Grey-smoked pork roast meal, plus other tea foods, is here.)

Martha Stewart's Everyday Food mag (I'm not always crazy about her, but this is a nifty little monthly book full of some great simple recipes) this month had a recipe for a sweet tea cocktail — a mini-infusion, of sorts. The Spiked Berry is simply: Combine a cup of sliced strawberries, a cup of vodka and a bag of Lady Grey tea. Steep it an hour. In a pitcher, stir together a quarter cup of powdered sugar with a cup of fresh lemon juice. Toss the tea bag and pour the vodka mix into the pitcher. Yum.

Faithful tea folks, life-changing tea moments

Just want to share a couple of beautiful posts from fellow tea bloggers for your hump day morning.

In the first, Diane at T Ching recalls a faithful tea customer in "George Wednesdays." It's a touching tale of personal connection and those meaningful relationships that sneak up on us, which we then ruminate over during meditative steeps.

In the other, the blogger at New York's Mandarin Tea Room shares a beautiful tale of a tea epiphany, titled "Why Do I Use Tea to Meditate?" The answer to that question is a bit of a stretch, but the tea moment described is poignant and moving — simple and natural, as a tea moment should be. "Try to remember this feeling," says the muse in this tale. "This tea moment, you will never forget it."

Teapots hanging in the family tree

My mother recently moved and, as aging mothers do, pared down her belongings. My father, before he died, lived in constant preparation for this event. Closets were always being cleaned (and then refilled), piles always being made. Every visit home would end with, "Do you want to take that ____?" or "Come on out in the garage, there's some stuff you should go through before it gets hauled off." He'd be impressed by Mom's relatively Buddhist trimming down of material possessions.

Part of that process, you may have experienced, involves making sure the stuff with family history — and stories attached — is passed out among the children. I'm eager to share my wares: She handed off two beautiful tea sets from her side of the clan. There's this set, from which I'm drinking keemun right now as I write ...



I know nothing about china, patterns or the intricate histories thereof. Nor does my mother, who remembers very little about the set, which belonged to my great-grandmother. "I don't even remember anyone using it," she says. Always a sucker for early 20th-century design, I love the modern lines and adult baby-blue of this china. I have been able to confirm that it's made by the Noritake company in Japan, manufactured between 1914 and 1921. The cup (there's just the one) is so light and thin I feared it would crumble in my hand as I cleaned it. Great to drink from, though. Here's to you, great-granmamma, wherever you are.

The other treasure is this silver service ...



This was grandmother's. By contrast, this was "used all the time." Mom says: "Mother always was having her little lady friends over. She entertained a lot, and poured tea with this." It's a splendid silver pot — I'm beginning to understand why wealthy Brits insist silver is the best vessel for tea — with a sugar bowl and creamer. Very well-to-do, ahem.

Another random bit of family history came to me this week from my dad's sister: "You may not know this bit of family trivia, but your great grandmother, when she came to America as John's wife, was unable to bring much with her. She did however bring a tea pot and teaspoons and some linen napkins. I'm sure she was horrified when she saw the Nebraska home where she was supposed to live and raise a family. Probably having things from England helped her to adjust."

Hey, I'm just glad to know I'm descended from people who, when evaluating which material goods really matter, include the teapot.