Tea and Culture

Proust

Tea is civilization.

Have you noticed? Wherever it goes, it is far more than a drink.

A, English friend notes that tea must be drunk with milk, never cream. The milk must be put in the cup first, then the tea.

I, on the other hand, drink my tea with evaporated milk. Comparing notes with my brother recently, he insisted on the same. It was how our grandparents always served it—our grandparents, who ran a dairy farm, for whom either fresh milk or cream was freely available.

My friend notes you must always “scald the pot.” We do that too, but we say “warm the pot.” An Irish friend uses the same term, and also insists it must be done.

Americans, on the other hand, if you order “tea,” will bring you something with ice and lemon in a tall glass. An American YouTuber visiting London is not sure what to do with a strainer.

I confess that it deeply troubles me when people speak of “brewing” instead of “steeping” tea. For me, hearing that “wrong” term is like wet chalk making a false move on a greenboard. It is simply barbaric.

George Orwell’s essay “A Nice Cup of Tea” is a classic. He spends some time on the eternal debate over whether the tea or milk should be poured first. So is Charles Lamb’s “Old China,” on proper teapots. There are all these important rituals around tea, and all must be just so.

They probably have nothing to do with the taste of the tea. Because other countries have entirely different rituals, and they are just as insistent on them.

In Canada, we insist on a rolling boil. In China, it is essential that the water not be too hot.

In Canada, we insist that tea must not be steeped for more than five minutes; otherwise it becomes bitter. In China, the tea is left in the pot, more water is poured on, and the second steep is considered better. In Russia, you steep it all day, until it is concentrated, then add more water.

In North India, the tea must be poured from a great height, to be properly aerated. In Morocco, it must be served sweet and green, with mint. In Tibet, it is served salted.

The thing is not the flavour of the tea; it is the pleasure of the ritual. Of doing it just so.

In Korea, tea does not involve tea. It is a selection of tisanes. Odd, that, eh? Tea in China, tea in
Japan, no tea in Korea.

Tea was actually illegal in Korea for several centuries. They had prohibition, just like alcohol in North America. Tea was socially dangerous. But they never thought to ban mere alcohol.

They were on to something. Anybody who’s paying attention should realize that stopping for a cup of tea has major psychological effects. It makes one want to create culture.

The Brits managed to addict most of South China to opium. But do you know why they did it? In order to have something to trade for their own drug of choice. Tea. China did not want to part with any.

The rituals of preparation are the least of it. There is tea literature and tea philosophy; the Chinese Classic of Tea, or Okakura’s Book of Tea in Japan. Proust’s magnum opus is provoked by a sip of tea. Both Zen Buddhism and Taoism are intimately associated with the drink. There is tea art and tea aesthetics. There is a teapot museum in Hong Kong, and no doubt many tea sets in the Victoria and Albert Museum; a large percentage of all Japanese art was created for admiration during the tea ceremony. There is tea cuisine; the English make a meal of their afternoon tea. There are, always, tea gardens; in England as much as in China or Japan.

But the peak of tea culture, of course, is in Canada. In Canada, we have little porcelain figurines, bird lithographs, and jazz-playing chimpanzees.