The Art of Tea

There’s an art to tea making. It’s really involved, you know. And if I’d been paying proper attention, I’d probably be able to talk you through it all. But to be honest, both times I’ve encountered it I’ve been so mesmerised by the beauty of the various receptacles, tools and gestures, so captivated and transported by the aromas and subtle flavours, that I can’t remember a thing about what order things happened in or why.

If you’re interested to find out, I daresay there are plentiful resources online and in dusty bookshops that will explain it all in authoritative tones that completely contradict one another.

But if, like me, you’d first like to experience the pleasure of the receiving end of it, courtesy of an expert’s hands, then hie thee hence to that paragon of gustatory ambience the London Review of Books Cakeshop. I took these photos there whilst imbibing.

I could probably write a whole piece just on the choice of teas (don’t think I won’t!) without the elaborate process itself, but first I just wanted to draw you in with the sense of it. Details later. Besides, I think I’ll need to get one of the masters to talk me through it all again while I take notes lest I get it all wrong.

But look at it! How beautiful. Hand bound by virgins in spicily fragrant exotic lands, I’m sure. Well, that’s what I’m allowing to infuse me while I breathe those heady vapours. Wouldn’t you?

There are other sacred spaces for tea, of course. I found one just up the road from my place in Prague while living there, and more recently was introduced to the most extraordinary place of all, in the high street of Falmouth. I know! Who’d have thought it?

It’s a beautiful space, though. Entirely devoted to rare teas, and with a long table taking up half the space where the teas are served all day from antique pots. Even the teas are antique; or perhaps vintage is the word. I bought some 1996 vintage Mughai 8582 Puerh from a centuries old tree, to enjoy back here in London, but the truth is, without the pots and a clear recollection of how to make it correctly I’m loathe to spoil it. Besides, the packaging is chic on its own.

I’ll go back and take a camera next time, and interview the owners. Theirs is a fascinating tale of obsession and personal renaissance. In the meantime my own personal obsessions will be limited to warming the pot and sourcing unbleached teabags.

But seriously, take some time one afternoon soon, and enjoy the leisurely tea ritual at the LRB Cakeshop in Bury Place, just opposite the British Museum, where I pressed my nose to a window to observe my first genuine tea ceremony almost a quarter century ago. I’ll be searching out a wider variety of tea possibilities and hideaways over the next couple of months, and I’ll share the wider wares of said cakeshop, too. It’s all happening in Bloomsbury, I tell you. At a dignified pace, of course…

 

    London Review Cake Shop, 14 Bury Place, London, WC1A 2JL     020 7269 9030

 

Comments

[Floyd]

Ruddy flipping heck this is good, I can almost taste the tea!

[Jem]

Lovely. I'm chucking out the PG and heading down to the LRB straight away!

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