Time for tea
"You can never get a cup of tea large enough or a book long enough to suit me."
-C.S. Lewis
When he wasn’t reflecting on Christianity or taking us to far off Narnia in his works, Lewis was pretty well correct with his assertions. Previous posts have led you to understand how I feel about the written word. For me, tea pretty well ranks pretty high up there. Tea. It can be enjoyed in a variety of ways. Steeped, bag in, bag out, black, with cream, milk, with or without sugar. It can be served in dainty china cups, mugs in an array of designs, or in an insulated cup from McDonald’s or Tim Hortons. Whether the boiling water come straight from the kettle to meet the tea bag or poured from a pot, there is something comforting about a good cup of tea. George Orwell understood. He composed an essay in January of 1946 titled “A Nice Cup of Tea” in which he reflected on his so called “golden rules” for the consumption of tea. The delicious hot beverage has been a part of British Royal tradition and has been, according to a temporal reference I had to double-check, since the 1660s. Tea time, anyone?
Tea is a link to my past. It transcends time and distance and allows me to feel rooted and connected. The greatest lover of a good cup of tea I have ever had the pleasure of knowing is my Mother. I swear, tea was had with every meal she consumed from dawn ‘til dusk. I recall when friends of hers would drop over and they would commiserate over a pot of tea. I fondly remember how special I felt when little sups of tea were presented to me in a little cup and saucer I still have to this day. My Dad went back and forth between coffee and tea. Tea, for him, was almost always served with Grand Pré 2% milk or Carnation milk straight from the tin. From my Nanny Oliver’s table to my childhood and summer homes as well as to the dwellings of Aunts, Uncles, other relations, and friends, tea was always brewed in great quantities and shared.
From a very early age, tea could be akin to an elixir of sorts. It could cure all ills, ease heartbreaks, calm and soothe the soul, or keep one awake when late night study sessions were warranted. I still recall the acrid taste of the tea served at the funeral home when Mom was resting there. To this day, I cannot stomach tea very well with coffee whitener. I remember the tea I consumed when I studied in Old Harlow all those years ago. Stereotypes aside, some of the best tea I’d ever had was when I lived in England. I recall cups of tea shared with my siblings at varying stages of my development. I also remember how life’s crises in University could be solved by a delicious serving of cheesecake and tea at the Pasta Plus Café in Churchill Square. Three teabags steeped at once in my much loved Tasmanian Devil mug could keep me awake as I attempted to study that last set of notes or finish writing an essay or report. (Tea steeped in that manner was only ever meant to be slammed back! There was certainly no mulling over it.) To this day, tea remains a much loved drink of mine and continues to be poured in healthy servings in my classroom whether I consume it myself or offer it to a child in need of a cup of comfort. It also enables me to continue to connect and touch base with family and friends. Tea is shared with friends I don’t see as often as I’d like when we gather to commiserate over recent happenings, parenting, work, and life in general.
The ancient Chinese were on to something with the cultivation and trade of tea leaves. The Indians and the Portuguese were in on the action too. Little did they all know that centuries later so many would be steeped in a tradition – one delightful cup at a time.
-C.S. Lewis
When he wasn’t reflecting on Christianity or taking us to far off Narnia in his works, Lewis was pretty well correct with his assertions. Previous posts have led you to understand how I feel about the written word. For me, tea pretty well ranks pretty high up there. Tea. It can be enjoyed in a variety of ways. Steeped, bag in, bag out, black, with cream, milk, with or without sugar. It can be served in dainty china cups, mugs in an array of designs, or in an insulated cup from McDonald’s or Tim Hortons. Whether the boiling water come straight from the kettle to meet the tea bag or poured from a pot, there is something comforting about a good cup of tea. George Orwell understood. He composed an essay in January of 1946 titled “A Nice Cup of Tea” in which he reflected on his so called “golden rules” for the consumption of tea. The delicious hot beverage has been a part of British Royal tradition and has been, according to a temporal reference I had to double-check, since the 1660s. Tea time, anyone?
Tea is a link to my past. It transcends time and distance and allows me to feel rooted and connected. The greatest lover of a good cup of tea I have ever had the pleasure of knowing is my Mother. I swear, tea was had with every meal she consumed from dawn ‘til dusk. I recall when friends of hers would drop over and they would commiserate over a pot of tea. I fondly remember how special I felt when little sups of tea were presented to me in a little cup and saucer I still have to this day. My Dad went back and forth between coffee and tea. Tea, for him, was almost always served with Grand Pré 2% milk or Carnation milk straight from the tin. From my Nanny Oliver’s table to my childhood and summer homes as well as to the dwellings of Aunts, Uncles, other relations, and friends, tea was always brewed in great quantities and shared.
From a very early age, tea could be akin to an elixir of sorts. It could cure all ills, ease heartbreaks, calm and soothe the soul, or keep one awake when late night study sessions were warranted. I still recall the acrid taste of the tea served at the funeral home when Mom was resting there. To this day, I cannot stomach tea very well with coffee whitener. I remember the tea I consumed when I studied in Old Harlow all those years ago. Stereotypes aside, some of the best tea I’d ever had was when I lived in England. I recall cups of tea shared with my siblings at varying stages of my development. I also remember how life’s crises in University could be solved by a delicious serving of cheesecake and tea at the Pasta Plus Café in Churchill Square. Three teabags steeped at once in my much loved Tasmanian Devil mug could keep me awake as I attempted to study that last set of notes or finish writing an essay or report. (Tea steeped in that manner was only ever meant to be slammed back! There was certainly no mulling over it.) To this day, tea remains a much loved drink of mine and continues to be poured in healthy servings in my classroom whether I consume it myself or offer it to a child in need of a cup of comfort. It also enables me to continue to connect and touch base with family and friends. Tea is shared with friends I don’t see as often as I’d like when we gather to commiserate over recent happenings, parenting, work, and life in general.
The ancient Chinese were on to something with the cultivation and trade of tea leaves. The Indians and the Portuguese were in on the action too. Little did they all know that centuries later so many would be steeped in a tradition – one delightful cup at a time.
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