Art of Brewing
Some drinks reach you before the cup does. At a drinks stall or coffee shops across Southeast Asia, the scent of brewed loose leaf tea or tea bags and sweetened condensed milk is usually in the air. But every so often, something sharper cuts through it, warm and a little peppery, freshly grated young fresh…
The order is often over before you notice it began. A few syllables are spoken across the counter. There is no menu consulted, no pause, no follow-up question. The drinks uncle nods, reaches for a tin, and a few moments later a glass of tea arrives: milky, sweet, and exactly what was asked for. To…
Anyone who has waited at a bus stop at midday in Singapore knows how much shade matters. You step under the roof, the glare softens, and everything slows down a little. Tea plants respond to shade too, though in their own way. In parts of Japan, farmers deliberately cover their tea bushes in the weeks…
There is a habit I have noticed among tea drinkers. Sugar goes in before the first sip. Perhaps it is only a small spoonful. Perhaps two. But the tea is sweetened before it has been given a chance to introduce itself. I used to do this too. It seemed harmless. Tea was bitter, sugar made…
Picture a sticky afternoon in Singapore. The kind where the air sits heavy on your shoulders and the walk from the MRT feels longer than it should. You reach for something cold. Maybe a teh peng from the drinks stall, ice clinking in a plastic cup. Maybe a bottle of green tea from the convenience…
There are drinks that catch your eye before you even take a sip. A tall cup, fruit pressed gently against the plastic, tea glowing amber underneath. Something about it feels right for a warm afternoon. Light. A little cheerful. Easy to carry. But if you slow down for a moment, some of those cups have…
There is a particular disappointment that comes from making a cup of tea that tastes bitter. You choose the leaves carefully. You heat the water. You wait. Then the first sip arrives, and something feels wrong. For a long time, I assumed bitterness meant the tea itself was not very good. Perhaps the leaves were…
There is a stall near where I grew up that has changed hands twice, but the tea has stayed the same. I still remember the first time I ordered teh o on my own, sometime in my early teens, mumbling the words at the counter and half-expecting to get them wrong. The uncle didn’t blink.…
There is a jar on the top shelf of my refrigerator that I did not need this morning. I filled it last night, before the kitchen went dark. Loose tea leaves, cool water, a lid resting loosely on top. Then I closed the door and left it alone, the way you leave bread to rise…
The first time I held a Chinese Yixing teapot, I wasn’t ready for how warm it would feel. Small, reddish-brown, sitting in my palm like a river stone that had been kept somewhere warm. I’d just rinsed it with hot water, the way you’re supposed to before the first brew, and the clay drank up…