The essence of art is confession; its devotion, obsessive. The essence of craft is gratitude; its sacrifice, persevering. Art both deepens the mystery and transcends it. In craft, design liberates function, function fulfils design. Art is magic delivered from the lie of being fact. Craft, fact unveiled defying identicality.
How dare I compare tea with art, with craft?
As both art and craft are essential to my dedication as a writer, so tea is fundamental to my physical, psychological, sensual, spiritual, even intellectual well-being as a writer.
I prefer the strongest of black Indian teas, Assam, freshly steeped, with heated raw milk, and freshly crushed green cardamon pods, from Kerala, also Indian. Loose leaf tea – crushed, torn, curled – transforms the often reluctant, even recalcitrant, whole tea leaf from the equivalent of raw to cut diamond, releasing, when steeped and sipped, its intrinsic realisation in fragrance, in hue, in taste.
Tea India’s CTC Assam Loose Black Tea, without the slightest pretence or ostentation, renders a tea experience so transcendentally sublime, words but confound.
Interest, fascination, infatuation, obsession, all lie in mystery rather than identity. Within the realm of mystery, love exists at that moment, that place, where truth and magic collide. It is here wherein abides my profound fondness for tea, for Tea India’s CTC Assam.