The Tea That Can Be Bought Is Not the Tea

On the shores of a mythic past in a forest in southwestern China, sat emperor and herbalist extraordinaire Shennong. To bring his people medicine, the semi-divine monarch had resolved to test every plant in the land, on himself. Practicing the public health policy he preached, Shennong boiled water to make it safe for consumption. As the fish eyes came to a rolling boil, a gust of wind came up and blew some leaves from a nearby tree into his vessel: a serendipitous occasion for the experimental herbalist. He drank the infusion and felt revitalized, and Chinese culture was revolutionized. This myth begins to impart the importance of the tea plant in human history.

It is with the spirit of Shennong I offer some ideas, inspiration, and encouragement to explore with curiosity.

So, what is this mythical, magical mystery? Thinking of tea as a hot drink resulting from an infusion is a little reductive. This broad category can be cleanly bifurcated into “true” teas and herbal teas. “True” teas come from a single species, Camellia sinensis (with a couple of close relatives). Leaves and occasionally smaller stems are used. Herbal teas, sometimes called tisanes, come from a multitude of plants and plant parts.

It's incredible how many ways one plant’s leaves can be prepared. For the first 4000 years or so of its 5000-year history of cultivation, Camellia was mainly a bitter medicinal supplement. Innovations in growing, processing, and preparation methods transformed it into something pleasurable. By about 1300 CE, the six primary categories of tea we have today had been established: white, yellow, green, oolong, black and pu'erh. I entered this rabbit hole, looking for health benefits, by picking up a tea from the bulk department, looking it up, and drinking just that for a week.

David’s tea time.

The part of the plant used dictates the preparation method. For tough bits such as seeds and roots, a decoction is the way. Simply bring 32 oz of filtered water and 28 grams of plant matter to a low boil in a saucepan. Let it simmer for 10-15 minutes, then take it off the heat and let it stand for ten minutes. Now you’re ready to strain it. (Wait, this sounds familiar, is vegetable stock mirepoix tea?)

Softer bits such as leaves and flowers need the gentler touch of an infusion. Achieving a desirable result from infusions requires attention to a few key details: tools, ingredients, and parameters. Suboptimal infusion vessels are common. The most relevant features are the shape and straining method. Tea needs room to expand as it rehydrates, so it can have maximum surface area interacting with the hot water; you need something wide that allows the plant matter to free float. A French press is a great option, there are also mugs that come with quite wide strainer baskets. A general rule of thumb for herbal tea is 1 cup of boiled water to 1 tablespoon of tea for 5 minutes. Be sure to preheat the vessel with some hot water, then discard it before infusing.

While any tea drinking is great, some teas are better than others. Loose-leaf tea is the highest quality and allows the most control of brewing parameters. Tea in bags is a lower grade, made from the dust and fannings, and the bag can limit proper expansion. Tea in sachets is in the middle. It can be decent quality full leaves and allows more room for expansion.

There is a vast world of herbs and herb blends available, with or without Camellia. Making your own blends is also a fun way to play! The herbs and your body will give you direction. One of my favorites is 1 tablespoon chamomile, 1 tablespoon crumbled rose buds, and 1 teaspoon lavender to one cup of boiled water for 5 minutes, yielding a soothing and fragrant nighttime flower stock. Hibiscus is another good choice: it has a tart cranberry-like flavor and a deep red color. It goes well with lots of herbs and spices and has a colossal antioxidant content. It can be its own thing or sweetened and added to cocktails. (I think hibiscus chai licorice is next on my list, oooh!)

A good rule of thumb for black tea is 1.5 teaspoons of tea to 1 cup 190°F water for 4 minutes. Greens do well with 3 grams of tea to 1 cup 170°F water for 2 minutes. While black tea can be forgiving, greens need a little care. A thermometer or temperature-controlled kettle are useful for getting the temperature right, as well as a scale to dial in the leaf to water ratio. These are generalities, but looking up the specific tea you have can really help get your leaf stock to sing. From there you can adjust to your taste preferences. Hotter temperatures and longer times extract more caffeine and bitter compounds while the reverse gives a gentler brew. These are westernized quick infusing techniques, useful sometimes, but they don’t bring the most out of tea. For that, more traditional eastern methods are called for. Multiple infusions of the same leaf for a shorter time gracefully unfurl layers of different flavors therein. This sort of technique is what would be most useful for artisanally-grown teas. Japanese green teas are my go-to. They have wonderful umami and vegetal flavor and high concentrations of a calming compound called l-theanine (also available as an extract in gummies and capsules). They give you a sort of peaceful calm energy, and it’s easy to see why zen monks use it for meditation.

Whatever tea or technique you prefer, the most important aspect that encompasses them all is the attention you apply. Slowing down and taking time to pay attention to the process and sensations, the color, the fragrance, the taste, the feeling is what really makes tea. It can’t be bought or sold and no one can do it for you. That’s all the tea I’m spilling today.