I have long enjoyed Earl Grey tea but only recently have begun to notice some of the nuances of different brands. Some like Bigelow are, for lack of a better descriptor, almost musky and strong. I have been enjoying some delightfully light and refreshing varieties recently, though. Ahmed Earl Grey is one of these, and can be bought relatively cheaply at my international food store. I found one bag of Earl Grey by St. Dalfour the other day (sorry housemate to whom it belonged) and this tea was amazing, light and fresh and zesty. And I do love the way these utilitarian, though nicely shaped glass mugs display the color of tea, particularly in the autumn light.
When growing up in Pakistan, my mother and a dear Scottish “Auntie” would make a huge pot of tea and drink it between the two of them. They were rather addicts, and I am afraid so am I. It is not that I particularly dislike teapots (I am drinking a cup of tea poured out of one at this very moment) it is just that not having a nice snug tea cozy for my rather large teapot the tea tends to get cold. And perhaps more to the point, I really do associate drinking tea from a teapot with having another person or several other persons with whom to share it. And, so, I generally only pull it out when company is over or to make a thermos of tea for work. Oh, and they are a rather a bother to clean, are they not?
This rainy morning I came home after church and a big stein of tea seemed in order. Plus, I feel more manly drinking Constant Comment from it a tea which I have always somehow associated with the fairer sex. The stein, or giant glass mug, was a very kind gift from two dear friends in replacement of its predecessor, as was the red electric kettle that boiled the water!
Photographically speaking, I took a number of shots to try to capture a nice whorl of steam. I took so long in fact that some very aesthetically pleasing condensation appeared at the top as well.
Oh, and the tea was brilliant!
If you happen to go near Wilton, Maine. I highly recommend the Wilson Lake Inn. It is located on beautiful Wilson Pond (which would be a lake in any other state). They also provide paddles for canoeing or kayaking in the the lake and a dock from which to swim. Most important of all for this tea lover, though, is that they have a little lobby with a hot water tap (super hot!) and a selection of teas and coffees and cocoas available 24 hours, which reminded me fondly of Cedar Campus, which had the same setup (including a killer spice tea). If I ever own/run a communal house or some sort of center, it will be so as well.
No guarantees that the Wilson Lake Inn will provide a luna moth on your visit, though.
My, I do love the North!
tea on a rainy
night, milky sweet; i smell wet
tea in my thermos
stopping on the snowy bridge
first kiss of winter
“Dud pati” (which is not pronounced “dud” as in “milk dud” and “patty” as in “cow patty,” but rather with soft “d’s” and a “th” sound in “pati”) is a Punjabi phrase which is literally translated “milk leaf.” I like that, but then again the word “leaf” in just about any phrase makes it pleasing to me. At any rate, dud pati is a form of what we now in America know as chai. [On a sidenote, saying "chai tea" is actually rather redundant as "chai" simply means tea, so "chai tea" is just "tea tea," but I get why people do it]. To make dud pati one literally takes straight milk and adds tea leaves and sugar and boils it into a froth and then pours it into a strainer to serve in cups or glasses. I generally do add a little water, to cut the richness. Even so, dud pati, even when hot can get a skin like in the picture above. One can add cardamom, but it tastes pretty fantastic straight too.
Across from my boarding school for missionary children in Pakistan, was a dinghy little tea shop in which they made sweet, sweet dud pati, where they kept the tea boiling, straining it with a massive strainer for the mounds of soggy tea leaves. A successful day in school was when our class could convince one or more teachers to buy the entire class tea. Real success was when we could first convince them to go sit outside and sit in the Himalayan sun, trying to attend, waiting for the tea shop boy to bring his tray balanced with a kettle and cups.
powdered milk in tea
conjures the monsoon in this
while at the bread co
i smooth my brother’s eyebrow
touch simple as tea