It’s unusually good tea, this.
I’ve never understood that. I use the same tea supply, day in, day out. The same water, from the same tap. I’m reasonably ritualistic about the process, warming the pot (pottery, not metal), two bags, sloshing in water at a running boil, and all that. The milk is very carefully quality-controlled, doubtless. I aim for a regular shade of old-fashioned warehouse-worker’s coat beige. Same small set of mugs from which I make a daily selection (current favourites: SF:MOMA and Bernard Shaw Penguin)
Yet, some days my tea is subtly more pleasing than others.
It’s hard to define. It’s the difference between ‘Mmm, tea’ and ‘Ooh, tea’. I’ve never managed to work out the details.
More experimentation required.
I like piping hot tea in a pre-chilled mug. Made in one, poured into another. Froths it up a bit and prevents it from burning my lip :)
Each to their own, but for reference: you’re entirely wrong. Obviously.
Cold mug. Pfah! As if…
You too JJ?
I wonder if it’s something to do with steeping (‘mashing’) time, or getting the volume of water just right?
Oh, and bags are a necessary weevil, but leaves are far superior for the pot.
You too JJ?
I wonder if it’s something to do with steeping (‘mashing’) time, or getting the volume of water just right?
Oh, and bags are a necessary weevil, but leaves are far superior for the pot.
depends whether the teabag filling people filled the teabag on a Wednesday or on a Friday, just after brushing down the machines and sweeping up the floor.
[This is the reason, by the way, that you should never eat a purple Swizzles lolly]