Tag: tea

Putting the Kettle On

Kacey Musgraves is a blossoming country music artist whose recent album “Golden Hour” will compete with heavy-hitters at this year’s Grammy Awards for Album of the Year. She’s released only four albums (through major labels), so the nomination is remarkable. And yet – despite the acclaim heaped on “Golden Hour” – my favorite Kacey song remains a track from her second album, “Pageant Material”. In her words, it’s “a little, tiny, music-box-of-a-song” called “Cup of Tea”.

The message in “Cup of Tea” (have a listen here) – is simple: no matter who you are or what you stand for, you’re never going to appeal to everybody.  There will always be haters out there no matter how you present yourself.  My favorite lyrics in “Cup of Tea” are the refrain itself:

You can’t be, everybody’s cup of tea
Some like it bitter, some like it sweet
Nobody’s everybody’s favorite
So you might as well just make it how you please

Kacey wouldn’t mind if I told her “Cup of Tea” gets me thinking just as much about tea as about how well I mesh with other people.  Not that I’ll be steeping anytime soon, mind you.  I can’t seem to acquire tea-taste, no matter how many times I put the kettle on.  Go figure – half my DNA originates from England, so you’d think my instincts would have me setting out the fine china and doilies every afternoon.  I’d nibble on the cakes or scones or whatever comes with, but no tea, please.  I much prefer my morning coffee.

Ironically, tea brews with some of my earliest childhood memories.  My parents used to take my brothers and I downtown in Los Angeles, to restaurants on the streets of Chinatown – probably as much for the cultural experience as for the food. I can still picture those dark, quiet dining rooms, with the strange music and gaudy decor.  The meal always began with a pot of tea, including the little round cups that seemed to have misplaced their handles.  Tea was a cool experience back then. Listen, when all you drank was milk or water (or the occasional soda), tea was pretty sweet no matter how it tasted.  It was like having a “grown-up” drink before being grown up.

Forty-odd years later, I notched another tea-riffic memory.  My wife and I took a cruise on the Baltic Sea a few summers ago (“six countries in eight days”), and chose Oceania, one of the nicer cruise lines.  Good decision.  As much as we enjoyed the excursions off the ship, we enjoyed the return even more, because every day we were treated to “afternoon tea”.  Oceania’s tea was the perfect respite between the early morning touring and the evening dinners/dancing.  “Tea” included tableside service from tuxedoed waitstaff, countless cakes and petit fours, and those little triangle sandwiches with the crusts removed.  “Tea” even included a string quartet; their soft music adding to the ambiance.  I suppose I could’ve asked for coffee instead, but that would’ve tainted the experience.  Not to say I enjoyed the tea itself.  Just “afternoon tea”.

The culture, history, and preparations of tea could generate a week’s worth of posts.  (See the Wikipedia article here).  What I find more interesting is how tea has become the daily routine of several global cultures.  The Chinese and Japanese consume tea in the morning “to heighten calm alertness”.  The Brits serve tea to guests upon arrival (or in the mid-afternoon), for “enjoyment in a refined setting”.  The Russians consider a social gathering “incomplete” without tea.  Not sure about all that, but I can at least agree with the moment of pause tea provides; the respite from the faster pace.  It’s just… my “cup of tea” is coffee.

Can We Talk?

We lost a good friend last month.  Wisdom Tea House, one of our local cafes, closed its doors for good after eight years of business (and a little snow).  And that’s just sad.

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Why am I sad?  Let’s start with a quick tour of the house itself.  You walk in the front door to the roomy foyer, commanded by a large hutch with dozens of tea cups – choose your own – and a welcoming kitchen where you place your order. If the scrumptious lunch items don’t tempt you, the fresh-baked goods on display certainly will.  Then choose from any room in the house and pull up a chair. Perhaps the living room with the small fireplace. Or one of the upstairs sitting rooms with their small couches and comfy chairs. Your tea and cakes will be delivered no matter where you sit.  This could just as easily be your grandmother’s house.

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Here’s what I’ll really miss about Wisdom.  You won’t see people talking on their cell phones or working away on their laptops.  You won’t plop down next to a large, loud group of people gathering after work for a drink.  Wisdom’s music is quiet and instrumental.  The tea and coffee are served in their simplest forms (no Oprah Cinnamon Chai Tea Latte here).  In sum, they created a gathering place for requiescence – a bit of rest to escape the bustle of the world beyond the windows.

As I reminisce on Wisdom, I’m sitting at Starbucks.  I typically appreciate the convenience of the drive-thru, but today I’m on the inside, observing Starbuck’s brand of “gathering place”.  Open floor plan.  Hard surfaces.  Rock music.  A few high tables for two and one large low table for many.  Stools at a counter facing the windows with no view to speak of.  The handful of patrons I observe are to themselves, engrossed in all forms of personal electronics.  The few engaged in conversation raise their voices above the music and the baristas just to be heard.  It’s all just so “un-Wisdom”.  But that’s Starbucks – and it works.  It’s grab-n-go coffee, especially with that drive-thru lane (churning out cars so much faster than people passing through the front door).  Having your coffee inside a Starbucks almost feels wrong.

A few years ago my wife and I visited Ireland for the first time..  If you’re ever in Dublin, find your way along the cobblestones to Wicklow Street (just off the wonderful Grafton Street shops), and stop into a little cafe called Gibson’s.  Gibson’s is akin to Wisdom Tea House.  Order at the counter (the pear tarts are a must) and choose from one of the dozen small tables just beyond.  Take in the gentle ambiance and soft decor, and breathe deep.  The Irish come to Gibson’s to meet and to chat; to catch a break from the fervor that is downtown Dublin.  We stopped in several times during our trip and it was always the same: happy patrons engaged in quiet conversation with – at least for the moment – no cares in the world.  I can still picture one particularly well-dressed gentleman a few tables over from ours, sitting alone with his coffee and reading a book.  The very picture of requiescence.

Perhaps you have a Wisdom Tea House in your town.  A place the locals seek out to unplug, and to spend a quiet moment or two with each other.  If you are so fortunate, be regular patrons and keep your little gathering place in business.  Without Wisdom, our little town has precious few places to rest.  We might as well just head home instead.