Tea

 

Weak black, no sugar. When asked, that’s what I order, though weak does not mean cat piss but properly drawn tea that is not too strong. Too strong means it veers towards stewed. That’s the distinction. Even though this has been the way I have taken tea since about 19, my mother still asks how do I take tea; perhaps she asks because that’s just what you do, whether you know the answer or not. When George Orwell says “one should use Indian or Ceylonese tea” in his essay ‘A Nice Cup of Tea’ (1946) he unwittingly shows that he still lives in the capital of the then British Empire, where nice tea is Indian by definition; it must be brewed in a china teapot, not an urn, nor something silver or enamel. I began drinking tea black no milk when someone explained that the Chinese never take milk because how else can you appreciate the leaf. Orwell’s Anglocentrism would say that “China tea has virtues … but there is not much stimulation in it.” A visit to T2 and other outlets wall-to-wall with every tea in creation, including every kind of China tea, would possibly have changed Orwell’s mind. My biggest impression of Orwell’s essay, which is more like a recipe, is that it spells out how nearly everyone in my childhood followed this ritual practice, with only very minor variations of taste, making me wonder if Orwell was the populariser of this standard English procedure, or was simply the first person to articulate its finer points. Warm the pot first, spoon the tea straight into the pot, take the teapot to the kettle, and pour the boiling water directly onto the leaves. He may be the author of ‘1984’ while having his own assumptions that ‘rules are rules’. Critically, for those who take milk, Orwell has the tea going in first, then the milk; he’s not a miffy. He calls this step controversial amongst tea drinkers, therefore an argument I can happily avoid, though I agree on principle about skimming off the cream. He then throws fuel on the fire by insisting that tea “should be drunk without sugar.” It’s a Cecily-Gwendolen thing, indubitably. I agree with Orwell, millions wouldn’t, though with chai I have both milk and honey. Such is his insistence on what is nice, he would presumably decry the French and their wedge of lemon, or the Australians with their Antipodean affectation, the gumleaf. Orwell might be the fusspot of the teapot, but he speaks from limited choice. Indian tea must have given a necessary lift to those enduring rations and austerity measures. Little England was kept mildly sedated by tea for generations, especially through the golden age of the tea-chest and tea clipper. Still is. I think, in passing, what would he make of bubble tea, those tall cylinders crowded with tapioca pearls, sucked through a glass straw? It would possibly be all science fiction for Orwell.  

Photograph: detail of one of our many teacups, this one Royal Devonshire. Here is George Orwell’s essay, which can be enjoyed and comparative notes made:

https://www.orwellfoundation.com/the-orwell-foundation/orwell/essays-and-other-works/a-nice-cup-of-tea/