My Cup of Tea
Rarely do I get “my cup of tea” at a restaurant.
A big glass, not a tiny cup, a little bucket of honey, good friend from long ago, atmosphere, location, weather, and conversation. Does it get any better? Uh, no.
I know coffee people don’t get this, but I love my good cup of tea as much if not more than they love their cup of coffee. After a second carafe of wine it was time for tea. They had rooibos (or rooibosch here) and it was perfect, even with a hint of vanilla. I’m a little bit convinced that anything can be improved with a hint of vanilla. A large glass of hot water, a good serving of honey, a large bag of rooibos that soaked up my water and turned it the red of African backroads and my day–and my week–were complete.
Presentation is important (if not everything). Seeing the warm reds of the tea through the glass adds to the experience. It’s not just the reddish tint in the white porcelain cup, but the clear view through the glass lets you in, makes you a part of the color that you’re going to taste.
I was most surprised to have such a large glass. Usually it’s a minuscule cup. Yes, yes, sorry Mr. Extra Size That American, but it’s tea, it’s OK to have lots. I just like drinking it. Lots of it. Especially in a glass, a large glass, with a bit of honey, maybe some milk, a touch of rain and maybe a little thunder, a good friend across the table, dinner finished and relished, and ready for my cup of tea.