Matcha Latte

The only thing better than a delicious cup of tea, of course, is if someone else makes it for you.

Since most people are borderline blockheads, however, this can pose a problem if you feel like being served. So you need to choose wisely.

And if it's green tea you seek, then you should go to the experts: the Japanese. An outpost of green-tea purveyor Tafu opened in Manhattan last fall, tucked into the bottom of the Double Tree Hotel on 51st St. It's a bit of an odd location for possibly the best cup of matcha you can find in the city.

Matcha, or powdered green tea, is tricky to prepare correctly- it must be carefully sifted and beaten with a bamboo whisk to produce the slightly foamy brew. Tafu has Starbucked the process for us lazy Americans, though, and offers delightful sweet lattes (plain, caramel, chocolate or of course, a la mode) in addition to the traditional, soothing bowl of matcha. Yes, tea lattes. Why should only coffee drinkers get to claim such hipness?

Yes, a small costs $5. But when you're wandering through the crowds of disgruntled midtown office workers with your minty-green matcha in hand and you're the only one in a good mood, you'll realize it was worth it.

Spring Can Really Hang You Up the Most

End of the day, and 20 degrees hotter. My faithful thermos proved sadly unnecessary at the flea market. I ended up pouring my tea out from it, and letting it cool off completely before drinking. Who would have guessed it ended up an iced tea afternoon?

It did get me thinking about tea in the summer, though. I remember the first time I heard a tea sommelier (after I stopped snorting because he actually referred to himself that way) speak: He was Australian, and said that he drank hot tea every single day of the year. And it gets hot down there (just ask Paul Hogan re: Linda Kozlowski's knickers). He claimed that drinking hot tea didn't make him feel hotter, even in 100 degree weather. This could have been typical Aussie bravado, but I didn't cut back on hot tea consumption that summer, and somehow, I survived.

However, in the midst of a terribly sticky week last summer when it was too hot to even conceptualize boiling water, I started experimenting with cold-brew iced tea. Basically, you step the tea in cold water and leave it in the refrigerator for several hours, or overnight. I can't remember what the exact formula was, so this week, I will brave the cold waters and sort it all out. I need to stock up on some Japanese green tea tomorrow at Ito En anyway, so I will get a few other teas to experiment with. Any ones you're particularly curious about turning into iced tea with barely a lift of the finger, just let me know.

Saved by the Thermos

It's Sunday, and that means flea market here in Brooklyn. I've been helping out with my friend's booth there for a few weeks now, and this one is dawning to be as gray (but still enjoyable) as the rest- all thanks to one of the best inventions ever, the thermos. According to thermos.com, the venerable vessel been around since 1904.

This one isn't quite as attractive as the bright yellow Bee Gees one I had in my lunchbox growing up, but at least it's a little cleaner and doesn't smell like stale Saltines. It's now full of Assam (an Indian black tea), and along with a nice chunky bar of chocolate from Barcelona, ready to keep me defrosted throughout the day.

Weekend Reading

To start the weekend off right, a little amuse bouche. Initially I thought it had something to do with teapots, but no.

Remember, we're laughing with Steve and his trusty sidecar, not at him. Does the first word of his first post signify a clever greeting, or simply a confirmation of his mind state?

Function

We all have them; tea and its implements are no different.

A Japanese tea master wishing to teach his student the importance of perception dashes a cup of tea to the ground, breaking the cup and spilling the tea. The tea master wished to illustrate the point that the broken cup was no longer a cup but just a pile of shards, while the tea was still tea, immutable and unchanged. But as the tea could no longer be consumed without the cup to hold it, the true importance of the cup becomes clear. It is the empty space of a teacup that performs the most essential duty, one with greater importance than merely the fleeting beauty of a pleasing shape, fetching design, or lustrous glaze.

from The Story of Tea, Mary Lou Heiss and Robert J. Heiss

There's a lot going on in that quote, but one substantial point comes through clearly, at least to me. Tea is always tea, setting aside the relatively minor fluctuations of brewing time, water temperature, vessel- much like people are who they are. Moods, locations, appearances, these all can shift, but think about it: do the people you know ever really alter their essence?

I think it's very rare. But that's not necessarily a bad thing, as long as you accept this and can uncover the distinct flavor in each different one.

I'm back to green this morning, one of my absolute favorites from Japan: Yame Gyokuro Gentei. More on gyokuro green teas next week.

More Yellow

OK, so they're not tea, but they are yellow, have leaves, and struck me as beautiful.

Yellow Tea

No, it's not a joke.

There really is a rare, Chinese tea called "yellow tea," and it's absolutely delicious. It's between a green and white tea, in terms of processing, and the taste is smooth, clean with a slight hint of smoke and mystery, like the first European you met when you were a little kid.

The leaves are harvested in the early spring and undergo a gentle steaming, which differentiates yellow tea from the typical green-tea process and produces a sweeter, lusher brew (just imagine what you'd be like after a day in a sauna- no doubt, glowing and far more pleasant to be around). I'd definitely recommend it for green-tea avoiders, or anyone looking for a smooth but full flavor.

The type I found at Ito En is called Hou Shan Yellow Buds, and at $15 an ounce, it's not for every day. Once you taste it, however, you'll see it's well worth the price.


The pale golden color you see in the photo belies its rich taste and sweet fragrance. And yes, you can get right back in bed after you make yourself a cup.

Finally, yellow does happen to be my favorite color, and statisically, it's the rarest one for people to pick as theirs. (I'm not a mathematician, but I do play one on TV.) Whenever I come across a fellow yellow, they're in my life for good. Luckily for my misanthropic nature, however, that doesn't happen often.