Here’s something perhaps a little less personal and gentler on the mind: how do you take your tea, and what is your favorite tea?
Ah, Anonymous,
A question about tea—now that is a matter I can approach without fear of unraveling my entire sense of self. Thank you for such a simple, yet thoughtful inquiry.
You see, when it comes to tea, I am a creature of delicate habits.
My tea must be brewed with the utmost care, with precise timing—too long, and it becomes bitter, too short, and it remains weak. I often find myself debating with the tea leaves themselves about how much steeping time they truly deserve. They always seem to have their own opinions, I assure you.
Now, as for my preferences—ah, let me tell you, I do love a good red fruit tea. It is a flavor that sings to my soul in a way no other can. The tang of berries—cranberry, raspberry, blackcurrant—dancing upon the tongue, their sweetness balancing the natural tartness. A sip of such a tea, with a dash of honey (for I believe in the gentle caress of sweetness), and a delicate swirl of lemon... it is pure bliss, I tell you.
I also find solace in a cup of chamomile from time to time. There is something about its soothing nature that calms the very storm in my mind. After a long day of scrolls and reports, I find that chamomile can quiet the world around me and allow me to breathe deeply, even if only for a few moments. Its warmth wraps around me like a gentle embrace, as though it’s telling me that perhaps I do not need to solve everything in one sitting.
For the more energizing days, I do enjoy a strong black tea. Assam, to be precise. The richness of its flavor fills me with a sudden burst of energy—perfect for moments when my work piles higher than the tallest towers of Rivendell and I must meet the demands of both my station and my own spiraling thoughts. But of course, not too much, lest it upset the balance of my ever-frenetic mind.
As for my method of preparation—well, it is quite a process. I must, of course, ensure the water is at the correct temperature—boiling for black teas, but only just under boiling for my red fruit blends and chamomile. I steep my tea in porcelain cups, for I do find that the delicate nature of porcelain enhances the flavor, and the very feel of it in my hands is like holding a tiny piece of art. It is an experience, not merely a drink. One must savor the ritual, for the ritual is where the magic lies.
And before you ask, I do not—I repeat, I do not—believe in sugar in my tea. It is an affront to the delicate balance of the flavors. Honey, yes, but sugar, no. Never. If one wishes for sweetness, one should seek it in life and not in one’s tea.
Tips for tea making? Of course:
Water temperature: This is crucial. Too hot, and it burns the leaves; too cold, and it will not bring out the best of the flavors.
Steeping time: Do not rush it. Give the tea time to unfurl and release its full flavor—two to three minutes for red fruit teas, three to four for black tea, and four to five for chamomile.
Cup: Always, always, always use a porcelain cup. It is not merely a vessel, it is a part of the experience.
Enjoy it in peace: The best cup of tea is the one shared with the quiet moments, away from the clamor of daily life.
But, I suppose, if you were asking more personally, then, indeed, I like my tea in the most subtle way possible: with care, with time, and with a perfect sense of balance.
