IF YOU ARE ONE of those people who read Sojourners the day it comes in the mail (usually several weeks before the date on the cover), then this column is for you. On these blustery, dregs-of-winter days in March, you should have a cup of tea.
"Tea" in my book means stopping the action a few minutes to eat a treat, think faraway thoughts, or have a brief but energizing conversation with someone (or several someones) who also want to have a cup of tea.
It is a catchy habit. The New York Times has reported that for more than a year now, afternoon tea has rivaled the power-breakfast as the latest setting for wheeling and dealing. Alcohol's fall from favor has increased the popularity of other beverages, and the food served with tea is light, a benefit for people watching their weight.
The idea of taking tea used to seem too exotic for my ordinary day -- Arab, Japanese, and European cultures have very colorful traditions and protocol for tea drinking. And, to be honest, I don't particularly adore teas, herb or otherwise. But I have discovered that I really do like the three Cs that come with a ritual cup of tea: company (either that of my friends or of my own thoughts), cookies, and the cup that it is served in.
The Company. I still remember the flowered pot and the type of tea my mother would fix when she got home from work. She would sit down to drink a cup with our grandmotherly baby-sitter and discuss their days. I was thrilled to be invited to join them once in a while. Later, as an adult myself, I and several friends fell into the habit of weekly tea parties to talk about our lives. One friend, now geographically distant, still sends me tea bags through the mail to mark special occasions, reviving memories of laughter and tears at those gatherings.
In the Sojourners office, I could always count on Scot DeGraf to share an Earl Grey tea bag with me and then spend a few minutes talking about mountains, good books, or the latest hilarious thing his kids said. Now that I'm in Texas, a tea break usually means iced tea, but the talk and the laughter remain the same.
The Cookies. If you've eaten oatmeal for breakfast and there's a salad or vegetable soup waiting for you at lunch, a cookie, muffin, or cinnamon roll seems like a deliciously sinful hiatus from healthy food. My view on this use of sugar and fat is that it is a justifiable pleasure and can be considered a fuel stop.
Tea break should be strategically timed so that it does not take the place of breakfast, but rather gives you a little shot of comfort and calories to make it to lunch (or from lunch to dinner). With this approach I never feel ravenous, so I'm more likely to fix and eat a healthy main meal. If I'm trying to reduce sugar intake, I'll eat fruit or a bran muffin, but my favorite treat is still one or two cookies with Jasmine or Earl Grey tea.
The Cup. The thinner the better. For some reason liquid -- tea, coffee, water, wine -- tastes better to me over the top of a thin rim. More oxygen mixing in or some such scientific reason? Probably it has more to do with memories of birthdays and special meals being served on mom's "good dishes," which were delicate, beautiful, and thin. I want my mini-celebrations, even daily tea, to be special, too.
This means pretty cups, maybe a real flower, and colorful canisters or boxes of tea. (Last summer I met the man who chose sayings for Celestial Seasonings tea boxes back when the company was at the kitchen table stage. I felt like I'd met a celebrity.) Just one extra touch is enough to signal that this is more than just grabbing a hot drink in passing.
Paradoxically, such a mindful break can inspire your day rather than interrupt it. Tea anyone?
Carey Burkett was an organic vegetable farmer in Hallettsville, Texas when this article appeared.
Got something to say about what you're reading? We value your feedback!