There are probably or potentially as many kinds of tea across this globe as there are kinds of people. If we thought there were many coffee shops, wow, have you ever noticed the tea shops? The ones that sell teas from around the world? Isn’t it wonderful?
I’m not a tea person, though I will accept one if it’s the going beverage. I’m all about the caffeine. Unless it’s for being social, there’s no point in my drinking a cup of anything unless it’s going to pep me up (or make my ears and lips go a little numb –merlot– for the little kids’ return some Sunday eves after a non-swum weekend).
And it’s plain coffee I like — a regular brew adorned to perfection with the worst possible dairy and sugar. I’ll risk the cream and the cane sugar, thanks. This is my coffee — my doesn’t play around fudging anything! I’d possibly throw live bats in there, were they declared bad for me according to some authority, and declared a delicious additive by some coffee aficionado. (Er, may no authority even whisper what I must defy and prove wrong!)
Oddly, there are life-saving and life-enhancing teas. For me, anyway, and only one each. There was one sick night back in my 20s when I couldn’t breathe and was mighty tired of not breathing. It was 2 a.m. and easy breath had been missing for days or more. I had two kids sleeping upstairs and no one to bring them to, nor any way to get them there, so I sat at the table and cried.
It was as good a time as any to try the Celestial Something-or-other, and as I breathed in the tea’s steeping vapor, I calmed a bit. It seemed to help. Probably just a desperation placebo, but I took a few sips, and those seemed to help, too. Since then, chamomile tea has become my real-sick’s new ginger ale.
And, oh my.. bergamot? Who knew?? The first time I sat down to an Earl Grey, I had to think it was like sitting down to a box of Good’n’Plenty candy, only without all the chewing (which seems too much like work when no longer a spring chicken) insofar as the taste being extraordinarily unique. It was so astonishingly good, I’ve had a box of it (in teabag form) in my cabinet for decades. The same box, yes — in case I ever need that thrill again more than I need a coffee jolt.