One of my earliest memories is of visiting a charming but ancient family friend, known to my sister and I as Aunty Ruth.Not only did she introduce to me to the dark and twisty world of 'Struwwelpeter'* (a German Book of cautionary tales for children written in the 1800's) which I loved, she was also the first person who introduced me to the art of tea. Aged 4, I was taught to drink tea from beautiful china cups and that my pertly cocked pinky finger was a sign that I must be descended from Royalty.
Unfortunately Aunty R's lessons in ladylike were thwarted by my mum's decision to send me to an all boys school at the same time (story for another day) and so not only did I fail to master the skill of brewing beautiful, rich tea, I never developed a palate for drinking it either. Instead, on a regular basis, insulting Ruth with my requests for weak 'fishy washy tea' as taught me by my new boy mates at school.
Now at this point, if I haven't lost you, you might be wondering what the hell all of this has to do with breakfast. I'll admit it, I am taking a few liberties here, but this blog is about celebrating breakfast with special people all over the world and tea is definitely a part of that.
And on another technicality, this blog is also about my love of collecting unusual beverages and culturally quirky culinary rituals when I travel. So imagine my delight when on a recent trip to Germany, I not only discovered it has spectacular Islands, but that in the very Northern part tickled by the North Sea, there exists a delightful ritual for celebrating tea.
Growing up colonial style in Zimbabwe and having lived on Her Majesty's Island for the past 9 years, I have hereto taken it as read that the English had the monopoly on stiff upper lips and tea drinking.
I'm treading carefully here in the interests of not disturbing that fragile relationship between Cameron Island and Merkel Land, but if there was a World Cup for tea art, then the Germans might just be as successful as they are at football...
This is a big claim, I know. So let me do my best to share with you this tea magic that I discovered on a little sandy Island in the North Sea and you can decide for yourself.
In East Frisia (think the North Western Coastal part of Lower Saxony) the locals have been celebrating tea for 400 years. And I don't use the word 'celebrating' loosely. We are talking relish in every sense of the word. Make that all five senses of the word. If Google is to be believed then at some points in their history, East Frisians even chose tea over beer with the influx of tea dramatically dropping beer production!
What follows is my best attempt to introduce you to this beguiling tradition as taught to me by a very special friend (with a few additional facts from my ubiquitous friends Google and Wiki).
The first point is that 'dunk, drink and disappear' is not an option. Tea must never be rushed, but savoured. Whilst the East Frisians initially saw this herby beverage from the East as medication, they soon realised that it is the perfect centre piece for entertaining, enjoying family and relaxation. Everything about their very specific way of preparing and serving it reflects this.It starts with the tea selection. You will find unique tea blends for the region as readily available as we find PG Tips. Everyone has a favourite and the chosen blend is often sold loose to be spooned into the pot at home. Of course modern life has shaped things now and you do find 'ready made' bags too, but these are unique too in their design - the sole focus being on releasing maximum flavour. My extremely scientific research tells me that a traditional East Frisian blend is often Assam and Ceylon teas.
Equally important is the tea pot. The tea pot is the centrepiece of the table served on a 'Stövchen' (literally translated means Little Stove - a glass or ceramic warming based powered by a tea light candle). As my first experience of drinking tea the East Frisian way was in a restaurant on the Island, mine was served in an individual pot and stövchen. Tea Teacher friend was very quick to tell me that what he considered 'little pots' were not strictly correct - the pot should be large enough for lots of people to enjoy lots of cups of the tea, but in the interests of my education he would let the individual pot slide. This time.
He was equally as specific about the cup design. If one of Marie Antoinette's lady bags was allegedly used to model the Coupe champagne glass, I wonder if she didn't lend her other one to the Germans to model their tea cups on? I am hopeless with ceramic describery but the cup should be wide and shallow much like a Coupe.
What I will try to explain a bit better, is the reason that the shape of the cup is so important. If you think that selecting and brewing the tea is already intricate then, friends, we are only just beginning because it is in the serving and drinking that the true art lies.
Most importantly, the art is designed around the fact that you never ever drink only one cup. My online digging tells me that three cups is the accepted number. There is even an expression for it "dree is ostfreesenrecht" - so be warned woe betide anyone who tries to remove the pot after only one cup!
Honestly, this actually makes absolute sense because drinking Frisian Tea is an taste journey where every one of the three cups taste different. To achieve the perfect taste journey, the aforementioned pot should be served with also aforementioned special tea cups and saucers plus three new additions.
The first of these is a pot of crystallised sugar chunks. Not lumps. Or the fancy pants crystal sugar stick things you get in tea shops. These mysterious beauties look like they are chipped from white and black sugar volcanos. They even have a name 'kluntjes'. And, just like the tea, pot and cup they are chosen for a reason - their leisurely dissolving properties. I have no idea if there is a possibility not to have sugar with your tea in East Frisia. I suspect not, and in my case I was ordered to place at least one at the bottom of my cup. As I am a sweet tooth I took thee.
The second tea tray accompaniment is the most surprising for those of us weaned on English traditions. East Frisians take their tea with cream. And I don't mean American cream aka Milk to the rest of the World. I mean Strawberries and Cream, cream. Tea Teacher knows me well and quickly noticed my wrinkled nose and arched eyebrow. Unfazed, he knew that all he needed to do to defuse my cynicism was to sprinkle a little fairy dust in my cup and tell me that the cream was necessary to create clouds. Well who wouldn't be fascinated by the offer to have clouds in their tea cup?
He needed the third special item to demonstrate. A tea spoon. He showed me that the viscous cream, when carefully poured in a very little amount using the spoon and side of the cup creates an amazing effect as the heavy cream sinks to the bottom and then shoots the surface in tiny cloud like fireworks. I am not going to lie. I clapped like four year old me when I saw them.
From that point onwards, the spoon is redundant. For friends, you never, never stir your tea. Each sip changes in flavour. Your first sip is almost unsweetened, pure black tea with a teeny hint of cream. The second sip brings you a hint of sugar starting to blend with a soupçon of cream. About one sip from hitting sugar, you add more tea. And so it continues taking your taste buds on an adventure through every cup.
If you had told me two months ago I would spend two hours immersed in drinking tea and write 2000 words in homage, I would have laughed at you. I am not sure if it was the magical little tea clouds, the azure Frisian Sky above or the very yummy cake that is also a highly accepted accompaniment to tea, but somewhere on that island I got hooked. Luckily Herr Google is now helping me find my own East Frisian Tea tools online so I can continue the tradition on Her Majesty's Island.
Maybe one day, I will be some little girl's ancient Aunty Beedub and I will show her with great joy the REALart of tea. And of course my old friend StruwwelPeter...
