A Nice Cup of Tea by George Orwell
Taken from Soc.culture.british 5/28/94
If you look up 'tea' in the first cookery book that comes to hand you will
probably find that it is unmentioned; or at most you will find a few lines of
sketchy instructions which give no ruling on several of the most important
points.
This is curious, not only because tea is one of the mainstays of civilization
in this country, as well as in Eire, Australia and New Zealand, but because
the best manner of making it is the subject of violent disputes.
When I look through my own recipe for the perfect cup of tea, I find no fewer
than eleven outstanding points. On perhaps two of them there would be pretty
general agreement, but at least four others are acutely controversial. Here
are my own eleven rules, every one of which I regard as golden:
First of all, one should use Indian or Ceylonese tea. China tea has virtues
which are not to be despised nowadays - it is economical, and one can drink
it without milk - but there is not much stimulation in it. One does not feel
wiser, braver or more optimistic after drinking it. Anyone who has used that
comforting phrase 'a nice cup of tea' invariably means Indian tea. Secondly,
tea should be made in small quantities - that is, in a teapot. Tea out of an
urn is always tasteless, while army tea, made in a cauldron, tastes of grease
and whitewash. The teapot should be made of china or earthenware. Silver or
Britanniaware teapots produce inferior tea and enamel pots are worse; though
curiously enough a pewter teapot (a rarity nowadays) is not so bad. Thirdly,
the pot should be warmed beforehand. This is better done by placing it on the
hob than by the usual method of swilling it out with hot water. Fourthly, the
tea should be strong. For a pot holding a quart, if you are going to fill it
nearly to the brim, six heaped teaspoons would be about right. In a time of
rationing, this is not an idea that can be realized on every day of the week,
but I maintain that one strong cup of tea is better than twenty weak ones.
All true tea lovers not only like their tea strong, but like it a little
stronger with each year that passes - a fact which is recognized in the extra
ration issued to old-age pensioners. Fifthly, the tea should be put straight
into the pot. No strainers, muslin bags or other devices to imprison the tea.
In some countries teapots are fitted with little dangling baskets under the
spout to catch the stray leaves, which are supposed to be harmful. Actually
one can swallow tea-leaves in considerable quantities without ill effect, and
if the tea is not loose in the pot it never infuses properly. Sixthly, one
should take the teapot to the kettle and not the other way about. The water
should be actually boiling at the moment of impact, which means that one
should keep it on the flame while one pours. Some people add that one should
only use water that has been freshly brought to the boil, but I have never
noticed that it makes any difference. Seventhly, after making the tea, one
should stir it, or better, give the pot a good shake, afterwards allowing the
leaves to settle. Eighthly, one should drink out of a good breakfast cup -
that is, the cylindrical type of cup, not the flat, shallow type. The
breakfast cup holds more, and with the other kind one's tea is always half
cold before one has well started on it. Ninthly, one should pour the cream
off the milk before using it for tea. Milk that is too creamy always gives
tea a sickly taste. Tenthly, one should pour tea into the cup first. This is
one of the most controversial points of all; indeed in every family in
Britain there are probably two schools of thought on the subject. The
milk-first school can bring forward some fairly strong arguments, but I
maintain that my own argument is unanswerable. This is that, by putting the
tea in first and stirring as one pours, one can exactly regulate the amount
of milk whereas one is liable to put in too much milk if one does it the
other way round.
Lastly, tea - unless one is drinking it in the Russian style - should be
drunk _without sugar_. I know very well that I am in a minority here. But
still, how can you call yourself a true tealover if you destroy the flavour
of your tea by putting sugar in it? It would be equally reasonable to put in
pepper or salt. Tea is meant to be bitter, just as beer is meant to be
bitter. If you sweeten it, you are no longer tasting the tea, you are merely
tasting the sugar; you could make a very similar drink by dissolving sugar in
plain hot water.
Some people would answer that they don't like tea in itself, that they only
drink it in order to be warmed and stimulated, and they need sugar to take
the taste away. To those misguided people I would say: Try drinking tea
without sugar for, say, a fortnight and it is very unlikely that you will
ever want to ruin your tea by sweetening it again.
These are not the only controversial points to arise in connexion with tea
drinking, but they are sufficient to show how subtilized the whole business
has become. There is also the mysterious social etiquette surrounding the
teapot (why is it considered vulgar to drink out of your saucer, for
instance?) and much might be written about the subsidiary uses of tealeaves,
such as telling fortunes, predicting the arrival of visitors, feeding
rabbits, healing burns and sweeping the carpet. It is worth paying attention
to such details as warming the pot and using water that is really boiling, so
as to make quite sure of wringing out of one's ration the twenty good, strong
cups of that two ounces, properly handled, ought to represent.
Evening Standard, 12 January 1946.
------------------------------------------------------------------------------
--
November 18, 1999. Birger Nielsen, bnielsen@daimi.au.dk, drinker of tea.
This document: http://hjem.get2net.dk/bnielsen/teaorwell.html
That's my last word on Tea.
Léon
|