This man dressed in red with a basket on his back, do you recognise him? He is filling his basket with the greatest care, delicately picking the best tea shoots, for you. A few fir trees can be seen through the mist. I hope that, at the bottom of your tree, in a few days’ time, he will place the finest teas in the world.
Looking at the liquor is one of the first steps in tea tasting. While the temperature of the cup slowly falls, we pay attention to the colour of the liquid. Green tea produces something pale, while black tea gives a more coppery tone. This does not mean darker tea has been infused for longer, or has a more pronounced fragrance than its neighbour. In fact there are green teas that have a remarkably powerful aroma, even after quite a short infusion. So we cannot conclude from this photo that the most aromatic tea will be the more coloured of the two.
At a time when we are seeing our French flag flying everywhere, I have rediscovered this wonderful photo. Last May, when their country had just been hit by a serious earthquake, these children proudly showed off their “I love Nepal” slogans, with big heart-warming smiles on their faces. These children have every reason to love their beautiful country.
A few days ago I was lucky enough to meet the monk, Matthieu Ricard. It was a joy to listen to him speak. When you hear him, you feel light. You tell yourself that happiness is our responsibility. The happiness of others, first (ours comes indirectly, like the cherry on the cake). A few days later, I was in Nepal. I was helping a planter friend who is starting a great project, taking over an abandoned tea plantation between Kathmandu and Tibet. After walking for several hours between tea plants that were often taller than us, we sat down to catch our breath. We turned around to admire the view, and luckily just at that moment the sunlight pierced through. A light unlike any other. Something very beautiful, a halo of light that caressed the tea plants.
I thought about that fine English word, “enlightened”, I thought again of Matthieu Ricard, and I thought about the beauty of our planet, of course. As we sat there, my friend and I marvelled at it. It illuminated us. But why is it so difficult for so many people to feel this beauty? Why don’t they see it? Why do men keep trying to destroy our poor planet, day after day, throughout our lives? Why do they bring in their tarmac, plastic and bulldozers, their manic industrialisation and advertising hoardings, their deforestation and frenzied consumption, to lay waste to this Earth? For whose selfish happiness? And where is the Other? Who is thinking of our future generations?
The advantage of photographing a window is that you can layer two images: here, the tasting set being prepared, and the landscape reflected in the glass. It’s fun to combine and merge the two views. The meaning of the tasting becomes clearer: we drink the tea, which comes from nature, surrounded by the land from which it originated.
During a heatwave you must remember to stay hydrated. You need to drink frequently. You can also cool your face, with a wet cloth or a facial mist. As for me, I like the original version of mist – it’s called the Himalayas. It is cool there, especially at this time of year, when clouds full of monsoon rain gather above your head.
Calling all fans of “grand cru” teas! You now have access to the best selection of teas in the world. This is the optimum time of year to try the finest teas in existence. All are extremely fresh, newly delivered by air. There are first-flush and second-flush Darjeelings, new-season Chinese teas, and Japanese Ichibanchas harvested in May, alongside teas from Nepal, Taiwan and South Korea.
For tea-lovers, the start of the summer is a pure pleasure!
This woman is 95. She lives on an isolated farm, with her husband. They live alone, on the mountainside, far from any other houses, with just a few chickens and a little land to cultivate. A tiny path leads to their house. It is so narrow you must place one foot in front of the other. I visited them last week, while walking in the mountains in eastern Nepal. I was with Andrew, the planter from Guranse who shares my love of long walks. She made us tea while we talked with her husband. She brought us the tea in a metal goblet and threw a handful of cereal into a small, separate bowl. We poured the milky tea, which was quite peppery, over the cereal, and ate. We drank the remaining tea. We talked for a long time with her and her husband, on their doorstep, beneath a beehive. They talked non-stop. She understood my mediocre Hindi but spoke only in Nepali. Andrew translated for me. When I managed to get a word in, I asked her questions. What was her secret for a long life? Eating healthy food; fresh, home-grown produce. And was not love also the secret of their longevity? She laughed and exchanged a tender, incredibly touching, look with her husband. They married when she was 11. He was 15. They love each other. They have been together more than 80 years. When it was time for us to leave, they took our hands, and they blessed us by placing their hands on our foreheads. And they asked us if, later, when they are no longer there, we could once, just once, think of them.
