Lahikmajoe Drinks Tea

Shanghai tea house in Hamburg

While planning my trip to the US, I considered bringing enough tea from home. I have enough, and really don’t need any new tea. But such is the quandary of a tea obsessive. I don’t need any, but…I desperately want to try new tea. Although I write about tea shops in Germany and around Europe, I have several American tea sources I like. I use these trips while visiting family to take advantage of the places I like the most.

Here I was going through Upton Tea‘s website ordering one from Java and another tea from India…(a black one I’d never even heard of) and I’m sure I’ll get around to talking about here. At some point, I intend to incorporate all the tea I’m drinking on my trip, but as you know I like to write about non tea-related things here, as well.

While I was wrapping up my order, Upton Tea suggested a sample of a tea that they were nearly out of. As I read about it, I thought, ‘Oh, my. This is eerily appropriate for the purpose of my visit.‘ My maternal grandmother passed away recently, and the family is scattered all over. We arranged to meet this weekend. Despite what sounds like it could be a sad and depressing situation, we really had a good time celebrating her life rather then mourning anything.

‘What does any of this have to do with tea?’ you’re wondering. I’m glad you asked. So the tea I read about was called China Pre-Chingming Golden Pekoe. But that’d mean nothing without what I’m going to tell you next. Here’s the direct link to the description of the tea that was provided.

As it says:

The festival of Chingming (Qingming) is a 2500 year-old tradition in which people visit the burial sites of their ancestors to pay respect. It is significant in Chinese tea culture because it serves as a demarcation between a distinct pre-Chingming plucking period and the subsequent plucking period occurring after the festival date (usually around April 5). Pre-Chingming teas are prized for their delicacy and subtle, fresh nuances.

So, it’s a tea for the ancestors. Honouring one’s ancestors specifically. How ideal is this? Like I was almost led to it just in time for my trip. Then I read more about the holiday Ching Ming, which actually takes place every year on 5 April (Here’s more about that in Ching Ming). We’re weren’t willing to wait till next year for 5 April to come rolling round again. We had ancestor-honouring to take care of.

I mentioned my Aunt Elise when I wrote getting into tea in Tucson, and I knew she and her daughter (my cousin Alyssa) enjoyed drinking tea and would appreciate the symbolism of doing so in my grandmother’s honour. My mother really likes tea, so it was a foregone conclusion that she’d be game for just such an endeavour.

If there was ever a perfect scenario for throwing out the first infusion, this was it. I’d read years ago that many Taiwanese, as well as Mainland Chinese I assume, discard the first infusion as some sort of symbol to the ancestors. Something like you’re giving tea to the spirit of those that came before you. Yet, I had no intention of doing it. I don’t like throwing tea away.

But the funny/spooky thing that happened? I unwittingly spilled the first infusion. All of it. If that’s how the ancestors want to get their first infusion from us, that’s the least we could do for them. Then the actual next infusion was poured and enjoyed by me and these ladies (my mom and aunt) who’ve meant so much in my life.

The tea was a tad bitter the fist few sips, but that settled down quite nicely. A nice caramel taste in the cup, I definitely drank this in my grandmother’s honour. She might not have understood what on earth we were doing with a Gaiwan and those little cups, but I’m hopeful my Nana could feel us down here thinking of her.

I’d done a very brief internet search for tea in Seville and found nothing so interesting. Oh well. ‘It wasn’t to be,’ I told myself. Only a few hours before boarding the train out of town, I turned to my friend Marla who drinks tea and lives in Seville and asked, ‘Is there a teashop here?‘

She chuckled at me and answered, ‘Of course there is. Follow me.‘ A few twists and turns through streets I’d have never found myself wandering down, and there it was.

It turns out té & té has two locations, but this one was at Calle Castelar 2 (phone: 954 222 452). There’s another teashop nearby at Pasaje de los Azahares 44 (phone: 954 220 755). You know how you can tell immediately if a shop is serious about tea? This place is one of those. In what I thought was coffee-drinking Spain. This trip has been much better for teablogging than I ever expected.

gorgeous tea gear

Beautiful canisters and tea cups and teapots, as well as a really nice selection of tea. The guy behind the counter introduced himself as Alfonso, and I’m almost certain he’s the one responsible for all of this tea drinking goodness.

He offered a cup of what was a delicious black tea grown in South Africa (now I wish I’d asked him more about this tea – it was curiously tasty). Oh, and on the topic of teablogging, I just found that té & té has a Spanish teablog called pasión por el té. Take a look – you’ll recognise the layout.

Marla mentioned that many establishments here offer something called ‘Pakistani’ tea, which Alfonso quickly showed us examples of this: what you’d think of as chai (black tea with clove and other musky spices). Although I was intrigued, I was much more curious about his single estate tea. He had plenty of that on offer, as well.

While standing there chatting about tea in both English and Spanish, another passionate tea drinker overheard us, and introduced herself as a Californian who’d lived in Seville on and off for decades. How I could think there was no decent teashop in Seville is now beyond me. té & té was a pleasant surprise.

a very contented teablogger

pull up a chair

You’ve been in Málaga’s cathedral, as well as several other churches, and not only the Museo Picasso Málaga but the Casa Natal de Pablo Picasso, too. Up on the hill is the Alcazaba (castle) and below it the Puerto (port). If only there was a decent tea salon mixed in with all these tapas bars.

Well, I’m here to tell you there is. It’s called La Tetería and it’s a dream. Some tea shops make a half-hearted attempt at proper tea, but this place is definitely not one of them.

Chairs and tables are set outside in the shadow of both the Iglesia San Agustín and the above-mentioned Picasso museum, and everything about the place draws you inside. The decor, the music, the friendliness of the staff – all of it indicates that good things are going on here.

‘What about the tea?’ you ask. As good as the rest of it is, it’s the tea that really matters. For a tea salon in a very busy tourist-saturated area, their selection is extraordinary.

such a selection

Plenty of flavoured green tea:

One called a ‘moroccan‘ (green tea, mint and sugar), one with the name ‘viento sur‘ (hibiscus, orange, mint, and 10 vitamins), and another called curiously ‘fata morgana‘ (rose petals, cornflowers, and sunflowers). Yet I was most interested in the ‘buen día‘ (Darjeeling, Japanese green, Ceylon with fresh strawberries and vanilla). I got a small canister of that last one and can tell you about it later.

Many flavoured black blends:

A ‘suenos de buda‘ (black and green tea, ginger, and clove), and a concoction called ‘canemón‘ (Earl Grey cinnamon and lemon). The creatively named ‘crema irlandesa‘ (whiskey cream and cacao) in addition to their ‘jengibre melange‘ (ginger, mint, and guava).

For white tea, there was a Pai Mu Tan and then several flavoured blends. A stawberry/vanilla, a cherry/jasmine, and a mango/lime.

I rarely get excited about flavoured tea, though. ‘Do they offer any  single estate tea?‘ I hear you asking. Actually, yes. As if you had to ask.

There were two sorts of Assam: a Bazaloni G.F.B.O.P and a Rembeg T.G.F.O.P. (I had the former and it was delicious), at least three sort of Darjeeling: a Tukdah F.T.G.F.O.P. first flush, a Darjeeling de Otono F.T.G.F.O.P.1 (Margaret’s Hope), even a green Darjeeling from Selim Hill F.T.G.F.O.P.1 and finally a Sikkim ‘Temi’ F.T.G.F.O.P.1.

I’m not going to list all their tea here. You can find quite a lot on the website La Tetería. There’s also plenty of Rooibus and tisanes. There was also a section called ‘Preventative and Curative Infusions’ that I really hope I don’t need for a long, long while. My plan is to stay as healthy as possible in the meantime.

La Tetería was much more than I expected. My assumption was that there wouldn’t be much in the way of tea drinking in southern Spain. Gladly, I was mistaken. I can definitely recommend this place. If you find yourself in Málaga, you should definitely let yourself be drawn in.

grouchy as I want to be

It all started with this innocuous query on twitter:

@lahikmajoe maybe u can blog about acceptable prices? I’m a loose leaf newbie. My 1st purchase, I paid a lot! I realize I need to research
— Brian F(@BRFoo) April 30, 2012

Sounds like a simple enough request, right? ‘Why does tea cost so much?’ Why, indeed. ‘What’re acceptable prices?’

I’m afraid I can only give a small sliver of the answer. My knowledge of the tea industry is only from the perspective of the end user. The customer.

someone better qualified

When I have questions like this, I often turn to Xavier (@teaconomics). He studied economics, and has a mind for such things. When he and I visited tea shops in Nice earlier this year, he had a very logical and well thought out response to ‘Why does tea cost so much?‘

If you don’t know his blog, you really should take a gander here: Teaconomics.

He writes about where tea and economics meet (hence the blog’s inventive name). Although I couldn’t begin to create the in depth analysis he does, I find his writing compelling and tend to celebrate whenever I see a new blogpost over there.

Having dealt with the reality that there are economic factors that make tea expensive, now I can get on to my more emotional response. And the way I’ll begin my answer to whatever financial rationalisation you throw my way is with one simple declarative word: Bollocks!

Yes, it’s a commodity. I understand that this is a product that comes from a plant, and that growing conditions can make for a myriad of hassles and unforeseen circumstances. There are tea auctions and logistics to bring the sacks of tea to your country. If you’ve got a stand alone shop, there’s rent and overhead and I could go on and on about that part of the argument.

but wait just a minute

However, I continue to disagree. I believe tea doesn’t have to be so dear. It really doesn’t.

The impression I get is that tea is marketed and sold as a luxury item. That means it’s purposely priced highly and intended to be viewed as something to be valued. I understand that and if I thought it was the actual tea growers who were getting the inflated profits, I might be more sympathetic.

From what I’ve heard and read, that’s rarely the case. The sometimes obscene prices go primarily to those who have marketed it. I’m not against marketing at all.

I’ll be in the United States again later this May, and I danced around this topic when I was there last year. It’s something I’m sure I’ll write about more extensively. The good news for Brian and others tea newcomers is that many of us are constantly on the lookout for reasonably-priced tea.

Is that really too much to ask?

(photo source: Source of Inspiration)

I assure you that I’m getting no financial compensation from Bigelow Tea for including that (this’d be a terrible ad anyway – I’m only using the clip as an example of how some teabags really are better than others).

Back to my original question: How long should you leave a teabag in?


Some really love to know exact timings for such things, but my friend Joe told me the way he knows his teabag’s ready. He leaves it in for a while and then pulls the teabag out and looks to see if the water dripping off the bag is still brown. If it is, there’s more tea goodness in there.

If there are drops of clear water dropping off the teabag, that teabag’s tapped. Time to throw it out. No timer. No bother with water temperature and the like. Boiling hot water and leave the teabag in there till the water’s clear.

Sounds simple enough. It really is.

I’m not sure if this has anything to do with sorrow, but I’ve had a bit of frustration regarding tea this week and what better place to share it than on my teablog. It all started with this question posed to me by Brian, who I know in *real* life:

@lahikmajoe I need good, decaffeinated tea. Preferably black tea. Any ideas?
— Brian Caudill (@briancaudill) April 12, 2012

That’s an easy enough question, right? Well, I don’t drink decaffeinated tea. I’ve been asked about this before, and politely pointed the person towards Rooibus or some sort of tisane, but the question here was specifically about tea. Black tea to be precise.

The easy answer is that there are tea companies that offer decaffeinated black tea. Normally, I try to actually try the stuff before talking about it here, but I just can’t see myself purposely buying tea without all that wonderful caffeine.

Firstly, I found, with Jo’s help, The Republic of Tea has a selection of decaffeinated options and some loose-leaf options that are flavoured, but the best option for me would be their Decaf British Breakfast Black Full-Leaf tea. The description’s as such:

‘The Perfect Cuppa – A robust blend of quality black leaves, hearty enough to make any Brit smile. A savory mixture of India, Ceylon and Kenya leaves is great with a splash of milk.’ 

Yes, this tea might make a Brit smile. Until he realises you’ve taken away his caffeine.

But this whole search has actually led me down the rabbit hole. I’m really curious how they decaffeinate tea to begin with. The little I’ve heard about it until now is that there are still trace amounts of caffeine in tea even after the caffeine’s been removed. The question remains: how do they do it?

What process takes away the caffeine without upsetting tea’s delicious goodness? I’m on a sort of quest with this one, and welcome your support.

(thanks to June Stoyer over on google+ for introducing me to the photo above)