Drink your chai. Break your cup.

A worker takes a chai break in India (Photo Credit: Judy Swallow. Photo found here)

 

 

 

 

 

 

Indians have been making biodegradable chai cups for generations, I learned this afternoon, as I was listening to the radio. The show I was listening to (which you can listen to here) was about the custom in Kolkata, India, of drinking chai out of tiny, unglazed, terracotta cups. The BBC's Judy Swallow told the fascinating story of how, after a customer finished his or her chai, they would simply smash the cup on the ground. Because the shards were unglazed, the cup would simply dissolve over time in the rain and sun, and from the friction of peoples feet walking over it. Drinking chai this way was apparently a custom followed all over India. On India's trains, people would sip tea out of the tiny cups, tossing them out the windows once they were empty, leaving behind trails of red shards that snaked along India's railway tracks, all over the country. A gritty layer of dry clay would settle to the bottom of the cup of chai, giving every cup a subtle earthy flavour.

With the introduction of plastic, today it is almost impossible to find chai sellers serving their chai in the terracotta cups anymore. In fact, Judy Swallow explained on her show that the only place that still serves chai in the traditional cups is Kolkata. Interestingly, although the cups are no longer made of clay, the pattern of dropping them on the ground after enjoying a cup of chai has persisted all over India, which means that plastic cups litter the ground everywhere, replacing the parallel red ribbons along railway tracks with trails of plastic.

The story made me think about how important having an understanding of cultural practices is to solving our global environmental problems. As westerners, we are quick to judge large quantities of non-biodegradable garbage dumped in the street. We are inclined to make assumptions about how people must feel about their environment, based on what we see, without digging deeper to really understand the cultural traditions behind what we are seeing. The story also made me think about how much more green Kolkatan chai cups are, when compared to what most coffee and tea houses in North America serve their drinks in, and how much we have to learn from them about using green packaging.

It made me slightly sad to think that the tradition of drinking out of these traditional terracotta cups is dying out, and that Indians have, for the most part, already adopted the far less sustainable method of drinking tea out of plastic cups. I have had many conversations with people from non-western countries over the years, and have naively expressed my hope that they learn from, and avoid the mistakes that western countries have made that have negatively impacted our natural environment. The response I usually get is "it is easy for you to tell us not to pursue avenues of development that are economically profitable...you have already profited from these so called mistakes"; and "it is only fair that we also be allowed to pursue practices that will increase our economic prosperity. We have the right to be economically successful too." They are right. What right do I have to tell them not to make the same mistakes? What right do I have to point out that in the long term, continuing to make chai cups out of clay will probably be far more profitable than serving their chai in the same cups that can be found anywhere and everywhere else in the world? What right do I have to tell them that using clay cups is so much better for the environment?

I wonder how countries can best learn from each others' mistakes and successes, without anyone feeling patronized. How to best support the unique regional cultural practices that make our world so amazingly diverse, and so much more economically and environmentally sustainable. The world is a fascinating place, and part of what makes it so beautiful is the diversity of cultural practices that persist around the world. I hope that the people of Kolkata continue making their own cups. I hope to travel to India some day, and when I do, I plan on making a trip to Kolkata for a cup of chai. I can hear the cup shattering on the dusty road, even now. 

Why no two cups of tea will ever be the same

Photo credit: Leila Aghdassi, 2009

Drink your tea slowly and reverently, as if it is the axis on which the world earth revolves - slowly, evenly, without rushing toward the future.  ~Thich Nat Hahn

Each cup of tea represents an imaginary voyage.  ~Catherine Douzel

You have probably been wondering where I have been. Two words: Drinking. Tea.

I have started writing some articles about tea for a friend who owns a tea company back on PEI. I have been a big tea drinker my whole life. Growing up in Cyprus, there is a tradition of sitting around the kitchen table catching up with friends while sipping endless cups of hot tea (or coffee, but I am not a coffee fan). As a child, we used to pick fresh mint in the mountains, brew it up, and sweeten it with honey. It was the perfect pick-me-up on a grey day!
 
Bread and water can so easily be toast and tea.  ~Author Unknown 

Living on PEI, tea became a much larger part of my life. Winters on PEI were very long, and very cold. Especially for a Mediterranean girl like myself. I soon discovered that Prince Edward Islanders have discovered that the best way to get through tough winters is to come together regularly to enjoy each others company -- usually over a hot cup of tea. On PEI this was usually Red Rose tea, which has a robust flavour and a deep reddish hue when held up to the light. The company's mantra is: "Here's one more reason to stay indoors this winter!" The tea definitely does not keep Canadians indoors, however it was a great way to warm up before heading back out into the cold. Over the six years that I lived on the island, I spent many an afternoon or evening sitting around a table with groups of women of all ages, listening to, and telling stories, laughing, and sipping hot sweet tea. Tea brought people together and lifted spirits.

Enjoying tea with some of my favourite tea-drinking companions on PEI

 Working on a farm, it was also an opportunity to bustle into the farmhouse at Springwillow Farms and warm my hands up after harvesting vegetables in the fall. One of my best memories of working on the farm was the time I spent in the farmhouse kitchen sipping tea with Joyce Loo (the owner of the farm), and listening to her tell stories about life on the farm. It is something I miss now that I am in California, and I often find myself thinking of her when I sit at my kitchen table sipping tea.

Joyce Loo and I in her farmhouse kitchen at Springwillow Farms

Another tradition that I built for myself while living on PEI was going to the farmer's market every Saturday morning to buy my food directly from local farmers. Charlottetown has a great farmer's market, if you ever find yourself in Charlottetown and are looking for something fun to do. It is open year-round on Saturdays, and during the summer months it is open on Wednesdays also. It has lots of organic fruits and vegetables, superb baked goods, fresh meat and fish, locally made arts and crafts, a coffee bar, a tea bar, and a number of food stalls selling everything from traditional Canadian dishes to Indian, Lebanese and African food. After I had all of my groceries, I would get myself a cup of tea from Lady Baker's Tea Trolley, and migrate into the adjoining community room -- a room filled with picnic-style tables that all sorts of people would share, everyone hunkered down next to everyone else. That room was a great way to meet people as well as a place to catch up with old friends. I would take my tea with me, and settle down at a random table. Sometimes I would take my journal and write. Sometimes I would take a novel. But often the book or journal would stay in my bag because I would sit down next to someone who would strike up a conversation, and would forget I even brought something else to do. I loved sitting in this room sipping my tea. I loved the bustle and laughter and the sound of people selling their products. In the summer months the market expands outside, and there is often live music. It is a great place for community gathering and connecting.

Over the six years that I visited the farmer's market pretty much every Saturday, I developed a great love for quite a number of Katherine's teas, and so when I left to move to California, I bought quite a bit of it to bring along with me. I still have a considerable amount left, and I enjoy sipping it while I write, because is tastes divine, and because it connects me back to PEI the minute I inhale the aroma from my cup. Right now I am writing about my favourite tea, which is called Lady's Slipper blend. Fingers crossed, she will love my description of it, and will add it to her web site. Keep checking here.

If man has no tea in him, he is incapable of understanding truth and beauty.  ~Japanese 

Proverb

Lately I have been spending a lot of time with a new friend who is Iranian. You may already know this, but Iranians are tea connoisseurs. From childhood they are steeped in the tradition of tea drinking. They drink mainly black tea, but they have a particular kind of black tea for first thing in the morning, another for the mid-afternoon, and yet another for the evening. And so whenever I visit the home of an Iranian, I always know I can expect an excellent glass of Persian tea. Notice I say glass and not cup or mug. One lesson that the Iranians have taught me is that tea should be drunk in a glass (and yes, I realize that the photographer of the first picture in this entry is Iranian, and yes, I realize that her tea is in a fine china cup, but she was drinking that cup of tea in a fine British hotel, so I am thinking we can let her off the hook just this once!). The reason for drinking tea out of a glass instead of a mug becomes immediately obvious the first time you drink tea (without milk) in a glass: you can appreciate the beautiful amber colour of the liquor. If you are sitting in a room bathed in sunlight, it is even more spectacular, in an "I need to write a poem about the colour of this tea" kind of way. I usually drink my tea with milk and honey, but over the past month, as I write about tea, and try to detect the subtle notes of various distant flowers and spices, I have also started drinking more of my tea clear to enjoy the warm rosy amber or coppery hues as I sip it. It does add a new dimension to drinking tea that I had never considered before. Give it a try and let me know what you think!

There is a great deal of poetry and fine sentiment in a chest of tea.  ~Ralph Waldo Emerson, Letters and Social Aims 

Tea intrigues me because when I drink it I feel as though I am experiencing another, very distant and often rather foreign (to me) part of the world for a brief period of time. I am fascinated by the idea that no two cups of tea are ever exactly the same, because the weather, the harvest time and method, and the processing and tea crafting techniques are always fluctuating and changing. The idea that the flavour, aroma, and yes, even the colour of my cup of tea is a reflection of the monsoon rains in India or the drought in China blows me away. These tiny furled leaves are unfolding themselves in my cup and telling me a story of the shift of seasons in the tea plantations in India; the story of the women in China or Sri Lanka whose hands picked the tea; the story of the new mechanized harvesting being used to increase profits; the story of the wildflowers that grew near the tea plantation in Sri Lanka, and whose perfume wafted over the tea while it was growing. Every little element of place is subtly infused into the tea leaves that are in my cup here on my kitchen table in California.

I have a passion for stories. The story of people, of plants, of the food on my plate. I love learning more about what went into something before it reached me. How place influences who we are. How climate and culture influence the flavour and aroma of our food. How knowing the story behind something or someone changes my experience of that thing or person.

So when I vanish for a few days, it is usually because I am tracing the path of some new story -- exploring its contours and textures, and how change has influenced its current state. I do return from my journey though, and when I do, I usually have something to share with you as well!

Do you have any interesting stories about tea, or any favourite teas that you think I should try? I would love to hear from you if you do. I am looking for some new teas to try and write about. Especially ones grown on islands. Any suggestions?

New year, new possibilities, new challenges

Happy new year! 

It is a rainy new years day here in northern California. I spent the first half of my day enjoying a breakfast banquet at the home of some very close friends. Great food. Excellent company. Persian tea.  The kind of meal that I grew up with in the Mediterranean, where people stay at the table for a few hours at a time, just enjoying the great company!

It is great to start the year surrounded by good friends. Good vibes. Laughter. Positive energy. And to think that I get to keep hanging out with these inspiring people for the whole year ahead! Yes, I like 2011 already!!

There is a lot to look forward to in the year ahead. New business ventures, new friendships with people I have yet to meet, new places to explore. One thing I am learning a lot about lately is tea. Yes, you read that right. You might notice how many times I mention the word in my blog entries. I am a big lover of tea. I love to drink it, to brew it, to inhale its smell...I even went to the library the other day and checked out The Tea Enthusiast's Handbook, by Mary Lou Heiss and Robert J. Heiss. Have only just started reading it, but I will let you know what I think once I am done.

An interesting issue, that brings together my passion for tea and global warming, is how climate change is affecting the flavour of Assam tea, grown in India's northeastern Assam state. Apparently, a steady increase in the region's temperature, has increased rainfall in the region, which results in damp growing conditions. Dampness is not good for productivity, and it creates ideal conditions for insects to attack the tea crop. As a result, the region's tea output is slowly dropping, which leads to higher prices for consumers, and the flavour of the tea that is coming out of Assam, which has traditionally been known to be strong, and full-bodied, is getting weaker. If you are interested, you can read the full Associated Press article that I read this morning, by Wasbir Hussain, here.

Wasbir Hussain also mentions that French vintners have been noticing the flavour and alcohol content of their wines changing as the temperature changes. It makes me wonder how climate change will alter the farming landscape around the world, and how changes in the agricultural landscape will, in turn, affect the our diet, and the types of wildlife living in our rural agricultural landscapes. 

Global climate change is already changing the lives of many of the world's population dramatically. A friend told me today that she was reading an article about an island in the Bay of Bengal that is claimed by both India and Bangladesh. The island, known as New Moore Island to the Indians, and South Talpatti to the Bangladeshis, has been disputed for decades. As a result of climate change and rising water levels, the island is now under water at high tide. As the author of the article points out, it is one of the few stories where climate change may actually be contributing to the easing of conflict! The full article, by Ben Arnoldy, can be read here. Unfortunately, most places being affected by climate change do not have positive stories. The Solomon Islands, The Maldives, Tuvalu, and the Marshall Islands are a few of the many places facing the very real reality of having to physically relocate their population in order to find solid ground.

As we enter a new year, there are a lot of exciting things to experience and learn more about. There are also many challenges that this world we live on is facing that need our immediate attention. The effect of global climate change is one of these. If we intend to continue inhabiting this planet responsibly, we need to find ways to change how we are living our lives and influencing the world around us. I have always thought that a precautionary approach to how we treat our world sounds like a smart way to go. There may be other habitable planets out there, but the one we are on is amazingly beautiful, and I would be sorry to have to abandon it because of my own lack of willingness to change. Having to find another planet to inhabit may sound far-fetched to some of us who live on enormous continents, but many of the world's island populations are already there.  

Reverb10, Day 26: What happens when three tea loving art enthusiasts descend upon San Francisco?

Prompt: Soul food. What did you eat this year that you will never forget? What went into your mouth & touched your soul?

The author of this prompt is Elise Marie Collins:
An A-Z Guide to Healing Foods: A Shopper's Reference
@mysticflavor

A few days ago I spent the day in San Francisco. For some reason, San Francisco does not feel quite real to me. Maybe it is how it is nestled into the lush, green, hills that slope sharply down to the Pacific Ocean. Maybe it is how all the houses look like rows of doll-houses or gingerbread houses, with their sloping gables, tall facades and ornate trim. Maybe it is how the city is frequently enveloped in a thick blanket of fog that visitors have to descend down through in order to enter the city, or that driving over the deep blue bay across one of the most well-known engineering icons of the west coast feels more like a rite of passage than the most direct route into the city. Whatever it is, San Francisco envelops me like a dream when ever I visit it, and I often find myself stumbling through my day like a wide-eyed child dropped suddenly into the swirling world of a surrealist painting.

 My parents and I wanted to see two art exhibits that were showing: An exhibit of post-impressionists that was showing at the De Young Museum, and a life retrospective of Henri Cartier Bresson's photography, which was showing at the MOMA (San Francisco Museum of Modern Art). We decided to make a day of it, and immerse ourselves in San Francisco for the day.

 

We started our day with lunch at De Young. The De Young is set in the middle of Golden Gate park, a lush green, intricately embroidered park that covers over 1,000 acres in north-western San Francisco. If you are in San Francisco, and happen to be in Golden Gate park, there are many sights worth seeing. I will not go into these in detail in this entry, but if you are interested in checking them out, a few of them worth checking out are: the Japanese Tea Garden, the San Francisco Botanical Garden, the Conservatory of Flowers, and the Academy of Sciences.

In order to get to the exhibit, we had to weave our way down paths that meandered beneath enormous redwoods, climb down steep stone staircases that were still damp from the recent rain storms that have descended upon northern California lately. We passed a large deep green pond alive with ducks, geese, and tourists in paddle boats, lazily gliding across the water's surface. Across the water, a Japanese gazebo rose gracefully out of the bulrushes growing at the water's edge. 

The exhibit we were interested in was an exhibit of post-impressionist paintings from the Musee d'Orsay. The paintings included work by Van Gogh, Gauguin, Cezanne, Bernard, Laval, Serusier, and Khnopff, among others. They were wide-ranging in their subject matter, from still lives to portraits to sweeping land and seascapes. The colours were rich, landscapes alive, fabrics luminous. Because there are no windows in the exhibit halls, I felt as though I was looking through the windows of time at the landscapes of the south of France, the ornate dance halls of Europe, the beaches and tropical jungles Tahiti, and the golden hay fields of Holland and France. My favourite paintings were Madeleine in the Bois D'amour, by Emile Bernard, The Harvest, by Emile Bernard, The Terrace, by Ker-Xavier Roussel, and Marie Monnom, or Miss M.M., by Fernand Khnopff.

The exhibit was far more extensive than I had imaged, and although I thoroughly enjoyed the exquisite art, I felt rather overwhelmed by the crowds that were packed into each room. If I were to do it again, I would go at a less busy time.

 

After leaving the museum, we headed out into an open piazza of sorts that separates the De Young from the Academy of Sciences, to enjoy the fountains, the grove of mossy trees, and the sea gulls that were playing in the pools of water. We filled our lungs with fresh air, and then got back into the car to make our way across the city to MOMA. By the time we arrived, the last light was fading. Carolers filled the streets with Christmas music, and shoppers were out doing last minute shopping. We were all getting hungry, so we decided to stop and have tea and a snack at Samovar, a tea lounge conveniently located in Yerba Buena, just across the street from MOMA.

Samovar, a tea lounge created by Jesse Jacobs in 2001, is, according to the company's website, "in the business of true, deep, positive human connection, aka Love." Samovar has three locations in San Francisco. The Yerba Buena location is, thus far, the only location that I have been fortunate enough to visit. The company's website describes itself as "a garden oasis, resting above an urban waterfall in the heart of the city...Nested beneath the city’s skyscrapers..." In order to reach Samovar Yerba Buena, we had to climb up a ramp that climbed upwards around a lit curtain of waterfalls behind which was a wall of illuminated quotes by Martin Luther King. Skyscrapers rose up all around us, an endless sea of towers glimmering with light. The entire front of Samovar is glass, which provided us with a fantastic view of the city while we enjoyed our tea. A warm light radiated out through the front windows, giving off a welcoming air that drew us inside. We were immediately welcomed and directed to a table near the front windows. Our waitress gave us menus and then proceeded to tell us the specials. We had not planned to eat a full meal there, but they did have a diverse and intriguing menu that I intend to explore further the next time I am in the city.

My parents both ordered Chai, and yes, I did taste it, and yes, it was delicious. Richly flavoured, with a creamy smooth consistency, with just enough sweetness to complement the spicy notes without undermining them. A rich, substantial drink. They ordered a plate of cookies, which Samovar calls "tea sweets." You can see an honest rendering of what their plate looked like here, but unfortunately they do not have a complete list of all of their sweets on their website.

I ordered one of their special teas of the day: Qingxing Oolong, which had notes of orchid, lily, apricot, wild rose, toasted grains and roasted sweet potato. It may be obvious, having read the previous sentence, why I ordered this tea, but let me tell you, just in case you did not fully appreciate the notes that play through this tea: I ordered it because it sounded like a poem, and being a poet, the idea that I could drink, as well as write poetry, was profoundly appealing!  I also love teas that have stories, and although I would have liked to have been told where this tea was grown, by whom, and what the precise landscapes in which it was grown, picked and processed look like, I nevertheless felt a story rising up out of this tea even before it was even delivered to our table by our obliging waitress (she hand-wrote the ingredients out for me before I left).

My tea came on a long, rectangular tray. The hot water was in the pot, the tea was in a small cup covered by a miniature ceramic saucer, and at the end closest to me sat the empty cup that I was to drink it from. Our waitress explained to me that I was to pour hot water into the "brewing cup," wait 30 seconds, and then pour the tea from the "brewing cup" into the cup I was to drink from, holding the miniature saucer over it to prevent the tea leaves from getting into my cup. I waited the advised 30 seconds and then attempted to pour my first cup of tea (never has 30 seconds felt so long!)...the result was not terribly successful. Holding to saucer over the "brewing cup" caused quite a lot of tea to spill on the table. I got better at maneuvering the cup and saucer, but I think they would do well to come up with a better setup at some point. Maybe they are already working on it. Once my cup was full, I re-filled the "brewing cup," and picked up my cup to inhale the aroma rising from the cup. The perfume was similar to what I might smell if I were to walk through a botanical garden on an early summer's day. It was lightly nutty and earthy, with a weightless sweetness to it that reminded me of nectar. The flavour of the notes in the tea were very subtle. I would not have been able to distinguish them if I had not been told beforehand what they were, but I did find that inhaling and sipping at the same time seemed to help integrate the sweetness with the more earthy taste of the tea. The first few cups tasted the best -- I was told that I could keep re-brewing the leaves, which I did, but I found that the later cups were rather bitter tasting. Would I recommend this tea? Absolutely. I would have liked it if the flavours that I could smell were slightly more evident in the flavour, but I felt pampered and well-loved by the time I had finished my cup of tea.

Although we had gone to Samovar for tea, my experience of the tea lounge was coloured by the "tea sweet" that I enjoyed with my luxurious tea. I ordered a plate of thick, creamy rose-water infused Greek yoghurt that was sprinkled with finely chopped fresh mint, dribbled with coconut syrup, and accompanied by toasted walnuts, fresh apple, and dates. Are you drooling yet? This "tea sweet" was one of the best desserts I have ever had, and that is no exaggeration. The flavours and textures complemented each other perfectly, and it felt as though someone was setting off fireworks in the vicinity of my taste buds (and in case you are wondering, this is a very good thing!)...If you ever happen to visit Samovar, order this dish! I promise that you will not regret it. The only drawback to eating something this good is that everything you taste for days afterward will seem bland and uninteresting.

The atmosphere in Samovar is laid back. Ethnic, rhythmic music played in the background: a combination of Mexican music and Middle Eastern tunes. I recognized a few of the songs on the soundtrack from the film Frida Kahlo, at one point. It seems like a great place to unwind after a long day of work or sightseeing in the city.

We left Samovar feeling pampered, happy, and, well...loved! I fully intend to visit one of their other locations the next time I am in San Francisco. The one drawback would have to be the price. You definitely pay for the experience. We did go all out, and my specialty tea was more than twice the price of the chai...my parents' teas were far more reasonably priced, but the total cost for the experience was approaching the cost of an average priced full meal for two people rather than just tea and snacks. Still, I have to say that for me the experience was worth it. I would definitely go back, and will be recommending the place to friends.

After our dreamy experience in Samovar, we felt completely refreshed, and were ready to tackle another gallery. We headed off to MOMA, and managed to skip the incredibly long line outside because my parents are, thankfully, members. Between the front door of the museum and the staircase leading up to the exhibits is a large atrium. I was standing, waiting for my parents, when a spotlight suddenly switched on right above me. Surprised, I stepped to the right to escape the attention and smiles that I was getting from the other museum visitors. The light followed me. I walked across the room, and again the light followed me. People were laughing now. Realizing that it was part of the experience, I finally stood still and fully embraced my moment in the spotlight! After a few minutes the light switched off, and went in search of another unsuspecting star.

The Henri Cartier-Bresson exhibit was truly spectacular, and there were far fewer people taking in the exhibit than had been at the De Young exhibit, so it was much easier to fully enjoy the experience. The images begin in the 1930s and continue throughout his career as a photographer and photojournalist. It is an impressive and diverse range of photographs taken in Mexico, the United States, France, Spain, China, Russia, among other places. His photographs capture the personal stories and human suffering behind the political and social upheavals that have shaped the life experiences of every human being on the planet to some degree. His images are simple, and in their simplicity, they reflect the essence of what it means to be human. I especially enjoyed his images of the Chinese building a new economy and social movement, the suffering of the Russians as they became increasingly impoverished, the hauntingly defiant, penetrating gaze of prostitutes in Mexico, and the precise and powerful portraits of some of the world's most famous artists and writers. We left this exhibit buzzing with thoughts and reflections about the images that were playing through our minds. I would love to see more of Henri Cartier-Bresson's photography in the future.

We left the lights of San Francisco behind us and headed into Berkeley for supper at my parents' favourite restaurant, Pomegranate, a Mediterranean fusion restaurant. Unfortunately, much to my parents' dismay, we arrived to find that the restaurant had closed down, and been replaced by an Indian restaurant. We did not feel like curry, so we drove around for a while, and ended up eating at Sweet Basil, a Thai restaurant. I love Thai food, and the atmosphere and staff were both pleasant, but the food was just mediocre. It was an enjoyable meal, but I do not think that I would eat there again.

We drove home feeling sleepy, but very happy. Our gallery experiences, and our refreshing and rejuvenating tea time at Samovar were well worth the drive down to San Francisco. We felt inspired and invigorated. Definitely a day filled with food for the soul -- creative and culinary!