A Spot of Tea

If I'm not careful, I suppose this blog will become known as the tea blog. However,  the original intention for this blog was for an esoteric/philosophical/spiritual purpose but, the introductory post set a personal tone that I did not expect which was the dilemma that held me on a state of pause yesterday. So with much deliberation with myself in the art of pacing I have decided that this blog will be approached by me at a more personal level. The "me" shining through. Ofcourse the arcane, I imagine, will bleed through still seeing as how that is part of who I am.

Yesterday I found myself in a tea crisis, while an impending storm loomed all about my windows,  I had one tea bag left and it was going to be six hours till my wife returned with a new box.

When the storm finally came it was one of those slow cold drizzles like the touch of death that works it's way into your skin before settling into your bones. A fall storm I guess by text book definition where the earth moves away from the sun to honor its pact with the coming season.

Normally, on a day like this I would keep a cup of hot tea ever at reach to feel that warmth rush through my veins as my stomach quickly processed it's hot contents but, instead, I showed restraint for use of the last tea bag and waited till I was about two hours out from new tea bags before I split it with my daughter. 

I don't consider this an act of selflessness really. What father who is an avid tea drinker would pass up a tea party, with real tea, with his daughter. 

The formula for me and her is simple really. She likes her tea light yet, super sweet. I refer to it as tea stained sugar water. So I simply fill two cups with water, then dip the bag into her cup until the water is thoroughly stained before dropping it into my cup till it's a brownish black.

As far as "a spot of tea" goes, I do not know the measure per volume as to what constitutes a spot( maybe it means tea stained) but, I know what a spot looks like and if the best I could get was a spot,  then I would probably be upset. 

When I was fourteen I went on a visit to my great grandmother's little one bedroom apartment in the housing project for the elderly where she offered me a glass of tea( not a spot, she was irish). So she poured it for me out of a pitcher. I watched it fill up the glass so black and thick like watered down syrup. I hadn't ever seen tea like that. It just so happened that I was dry anyway so I started to guzzle it down and was immediately sent into shock by how stout it was. I never knew that tea could be that strong. That tea could have rivaled two pots of coffee. My mouth went instantly dry, I got dizzy and thought I was going to throw up. To top it off it had no sugar in it which made it that much more tart like it was crystallizing my tongue. She simply smiled at my reaction. 

I guess tea has been in my life as long as journals. Over the years my tastes for it have changed which lead me to a living tea recipe unwritten in my head that grows as my taste requirements change. These days I like it strong but, not quite as strong as what my great grandmother poured from that pitcher, but still, the darker the better. As far as the sugar goes, I like my cold tea medium sweet but, my hot tea, well, it only requires a spot of sugar, a bitter taste, and heat, to dispel that cold touch of a fall storm from the skin and bones.