Bear with me, but this is going to be one of those ‘when I was in England recently’ kind of a column. So, when I was in London recently on holiday, I drank a lot of tea.
Because it was my birthday, the hubby decided to gift me a Tea Master Class. So I found myself outside Twinings 216, Strand. Bought by Mr. Thomas Twinings in 1706, this place has been in the business of tea since then. Just going in gave me the goosebumps. The doorway is the same as it was all those years ago, and inside there are rows upon rows of tea packets, canisters and tea paraphernalia. There is a counter with tall bar stools where we perched for the class. Porcelain petri dishes with various kinds of tea leaves were put in before us and we were urged to take it in our hands, sniff at it before it was brewed. We then wrote down what we tasted. Was it bitter? Spicy? Grassy? Toasty? Honestly speaking, the first couple of brews just tasted of hot water and I held my counsel till I gradually got a taste of some of the subtle nuances. Oh yes, I raised my hands and clapped when Darjeeling and Nilgiris tea came up in the conversation. And I told them about a wonderful place called Tranquilitea in Coonoor, where a Sandeep Subramani holds tea classes of his own.
I was swishing around with Japanese tea, Darjeeling tea, green tea, white tea and plenty of hot water and it was great. But even better was the gripping history of how the tea leaf came to England. I believe, even today, the Queen has a blend made specially for her by two master blenders and what goes into it is top secret. Since a Royal Warrant by Queen Victoria in 1837, Twinings has been providing the Royal household its cuppa. You can have a blend made up exclusively for you too, if you want. Twinings will help you put it together. At a cost of course. The shop has old parchments concerning tea transactions and tea chests, which the lady of the house guarded even more jealously than her jewels. The chest was locked up and, whenever she had to make tea, she would unlock it, take out the tea and then lock it up again! Tea was so precious that there were tea smugglers, tea mafia and horrific tales of tea robbery.
I bought a whole bunch of tea, a stainless steel tea scoop and came out feeling invigorated. The tea adventure did not end there, as a few days later, I had Afternoon Tea at (ahem!) Fortnum & Mason’s on Piccadilly. This will definitely go into my curriculum vitae. We strolled up to the hallowed institution (that has also been selling tea for 300 years), ogled at the exquisite picnic baskets, tea sets, cutlery, Chinaware etc. and made our way to the open restaurant, where surrounded by sounds of clinking china and murmured conversations, I had Earl Grey tea with scones, fabulous strawberry preserve and clotted cream. Then, borrowing many pounds from my friend who was with me, I bought her and myself a handcrafted honey pot with a wooden drizzler.
There’s something about tea that makes one feel fuzzy and warm. I remember Smita, Chandu and I sharing a barsati in Delhi, which we did up with our limited resources. My cousin had gifted me a bright red kettle with a wooden handle and we had pretty mugs. On the first morning in our new home, we realised we had no strainer. Chandu calmly spooned in a teaspoon of tea into her cup, poured hot water into it and, after the leaves settled down, sipped it happily. Smita and I followed suit. While the English experience is one I shall never forget, this one is priceless too.
