I have a foodie confession to make; I am a tea junkie and a china cup and saucer lover.
On any given day you can find at least seventeen different kinds of tea tucked away in my tea pantry. My taste ranges from everyday orange pekoe to more exotic blends from tea houses all around the world; black, green, smoky, sweet, herbal, rooibos, and flavoured. Depending on my mood I’ve got a tea to go with it.
Tea makes me happy. It soothes my soul when I’m crabby, helps me to solve a problem when I’m searching for an answer, and is one of the ties that binds me to my heritage.
My Gran and her sister Great Aunt Nellie were alchemists with a tea pot. They professed that a great cup of tea could melt a spoon with its shear strength of tannins. You wanted weak tea? The door was over there. Strong black tea with whole milk solved life’s dilemmas, was an afternoon pick me up and a nightly respite. Tea was it. Tea was the answer. Tea was perfection.
I never had a chance at any other hot beverage; it was tea or nothing, so I signed the dotted line and became a full-fledged card carrying member of the Tea Granny Club.
All great things usually need a collaborator, an accomplice, or a partner in crime. Tea needs a china tea cup and saucer to fully reach its nadir.
Is it the light clinking sound of the china cup as it finds its home on its matching saucer? Is it the pretty patterns? A throw back to my dear old Granny? Or a Pavlovian-reflex (as in the dogs not as in the dessert) to my love of Downton Abbey? Insert – all of the above.
My collection is more of an archeological foodie heritage dig than a mere compendium of functional china. Each and every one of my one hundred and sixty-one cups and saucers means something to me. A breakfast cup and saucer I bought with my very first paycheque from the Second City Comedy Troupe, several antique pairings from my Fairy Godmother Nina, and many more from my dear mother in law. Add in too many to count from my mom, who I inherited the cup and saucer gene from, and a variety of singletons I lovingly received from friends gave them to me for safe keeping; each and every cup and saucer has a story to tell.
My mom kept her tea cups in her china cabinet and only brought them out on special occasions, but I believe every day is special. Life is too short to leave your good stuff in a cabinet.
To encourage you to use your good stuff I designated June 2015 as Use Your Good Stuff month and I posted my morning cup of tea every day on Instagram. Follow #ThirtyCupsofTea or #UseYourGoodStuff and find my morning cup and the story that goes along with it.
Here’s to you. Use your good stuff because you’re worth it.
Peace, love and fibre,
Mairlyn
Ah Mairlyn… a kindred spirit. I too LOVE my tea, a love passed along from my Mom. But I confess that I do not experiment very often – – it’s dark strong ‘orange pekoe’ with just the right amount of light cream that is my go-to. When I am relaxing. When dinner is finished and dishes are done. Before bed while watching a favourite TV show. Nothing beats my cuppa. I also have a penchant for teacups and saucers, and the few sets I have (perhaps eight or so) are in the dining room hutch. Now and again I reach for one to enjoy my tea, but mostly I use my mug. I love your idea of “using the good stuff”, and may have to reconsider my teacups for my everything-beverage. Thanks for your story!
Thank you Donna, that is such a lovely comment. I hope that you do use your good stuff, especially because you are a tea lover. It starts my day off perfectly every morning. Bless your tea loving heart!
Peace, love and fibre,
Mairlyn