Most cultures I think, were once tea drinking cultures, coffee being a newer trend.
But we don’t all make it the same.
There’s the rose-colored translucent persian and arabic teas, served in clear glasses with floating threads of saffron, or a solitary mint leaf.
And staring into their depths one could find their very soul.
There are the sweet teas of the american south, that taste like picnics, barbeque, and nan’s potato salad, but also of the old buildings which loom over the grounds on which those gatherings are held.
Then there is the Irish tea I was raised on – brewed black as night, then lightened to a softened caramel color with plenty of milk and sugar.
I sat in my grandparents’ living room as my grandfather brewed it – boiling water, exactly 5 minutes steeped in the teapot before serving.
Drinking it felt like a warm hug and a full belly.
I can see why we make it that way.
Laughs and Lobotomies 