For twenty years, I’ve dreamed of adding the subject of tea to Plon’s “Dictionnaire Amoureux” collection – and now I’ve done it! (Translator’s note: this French series of essay-style “lover’s dictionaries” covers a variety of topics from the perspective of passionate specialists.) The publisher wanted a pair of authors to offer two different viewpoints, so I suggested my friend Ingrid, who agreed to write the book with me.
Tea is a journey, a horizon, a form of literature. It is the perfect partner for the silence of writing, the colour of ink and dreams, the inner world of the imagination. Tea takes us by the hand, touches our hearts and elevates our lives. It sets the pace yet stretches out the moment. Tea and writing dance together throughout life in a series of shifting embraces. In this Dictionnaire Amoureux du Thé, the word amoureux is key, as it evokes the passionate impulses in us all. Ingrid and I write about tea’s important role in our lives, while Ingrid’s beautiful illustrations perfectly complement the text.
© Guillaume Czerw
Tea in Bhutan
People in Bhutan have always drunk tea brought in from Tibet and China by yak. However, just under twenty years ago, following a visit from a young South Korean agronomist, two large tea plantations were established in the village of Samcholing in central Bhutan. Thanks to this expert’s advice, green tea is now cultivated at altitudes of over 1,800 metres, producing teas that resemble those from South Korea in their smooth, vegetal intensity. A few years later, a Thai enthusiast introduced the production of black and semi-oxidised teas to the region. In Samcholing, all the tea plants are grown from seed, and around forty farmers now belong to the cooperative. Rinchen and her husband Kinzang, who lead the group, dream that the region’s teas will one day rival the finest in the world and that tea plants will gradually cover the surrounding mountain slopes. Not far away, a young woman named Denchen, helped by her mother, sells teas of various colours with the support of rural development charities. The overall volumes are modest: the annual production of these two entities amounts to barely two tonnes. Palais des Thés is proud to be the leading foreign importer and is on a mission to promote Bhutanese tea in France and around the world – a challenge it relishes.
Wonderful encounters
In Bhutan, most tea comes in the form of dreadful tea bags filled with broken tea leaves. Another option is butter tea, which has an unappetising name but is an interesting drink. It dates back to the time of the caravans, when tea was transported from Tibet on the backs of yaks. It reveals animal notes when brewed. At least this tea tells a story.
In Bhutan, almost nobody knows that tea doesn’t always come from elsewhere and that it is also grown in the Trongsa district in the centre of the country. To reach it, you cross a mountain pass at over 3,000 metres, traverse rice fields and stop for a break outside stunning monasteries. If the opportunity arises, you can have tea with the monks.
Sometimes, you get your hopes up for nothing. You hear about a famous tea and, after driving for hours to meet the producer, discover that she makes a concoction from rowan leaves and other plants with no trace of Camellia sinensis. Had I forgotten to tell my contacts that I meant tea in the strict sense of the word? Sometimes we get carried away and overlook the essentials. Still, when travelling, detours are as important as the destination… They lead to wonderful encounters.
(To be continued.)
In search of remarkable teas
Throughout my travels as a tea researcher, I have often set out on a trip not knowing if I would discover an exceptional tea or if my efforts would be rewarded. Bhutan is one such place. I also look for people who are committed to responsible agricultural practices.
After arriving in Paro, we travelled to the capital, Thimphu. From there, we embarked on a long journey through a country the size of Switzerland with a tenth of its population. Bhutan saw its first cars and roads in the 1960s; tourists arrived twenty years later. The rugged landscape is mainly covered by impenetrable forests, which remain unexplored due to the local belief in demons. The Himalayan peaks have also never been conquered, out of respect for the deities that inhabit them.
To be continued.
The land of dragons
Bhutan. The name inspires dreams in a tea researcher like me. How many years have I spent wondering whether any tea gardens are to be found in this mysterious kingdom… Twenty, thirty? To its west lie the Dooars plains, while the immense Assam Plain stretches southwards, bathed by the turbulent waters of the mighty Brahmaputra river. During my frequent travels through these two regions blanketed with tea fields, I have often gazed at those distant mountains where dragons live. A land of clouds and legends, where success is measured in terms of gross national happiness.
Matcha mania
Matcha has taken social media influencers by storm. Until now, its following was limited to tea enthusiasts and connoisseurs of Japanese tea ceremonies, as well as a few pastry chefs who like to use this green powder in their recipes.
But matcha has suddenly shifted centre stage – or rather, centre screen. It may sometimes look strangely fluorescent, but in a world where the real and virtual are merging, does anyone care? Meanwhile, in Japan, the stones that grind the shade-grown tea leaves into a fine powder turn slowly. There is no guarantee that they will be able to meet this unexpected surge in demand.
Tea and ginger

It is common for tea to be grown alongside other crops. This can be seen in various countries, where tea bushes are cultivated among peanuts, coffee plants and tall palm trees. Here, in the Taiwanese hills, young camellias have just been planted between rows of ginger. It will be a while before their leaves can be harvested. This combination requires careful management, as ginger is vulnerable to attack by various pests. These must be controlled to avoid losing the crop, preferably using products that comply with organic standards. As a precaution, it is therefore essential to get the tea plants analysed by a laboratory.
Withering in the open air
In Alishan, a region of Taiwan known for its high-mountain teas, the leaves are spread out in the open air as soon as they are harvested, to wither in the sun. An electric shade can be rolled out at any time to protect them from the elements. Withering is the first stage in producing these famous semi-oxidised teas. The leaves then undergo various processes including oxidation, this time inside the building.
Serenity
Tea doesn’t have to be grown on vast plantations that cover hundreds of acres. Tea is also grown on a more human scale. Take this house surrounded by Camellia sinensis plants, for example. In many countries, tea cultivation has led to intensive farming practices, typically in lowland areas. However, if you climb a little higher, travel further and finish your journey on foot, you will find villagers who grow tea alongside other crops. These farmers use traditional methods to produce remarkable teas. Sometimes they sell the fresh leaves to a neighbour with better equipment or to the local cooperative. Here, I feel a deep sense of serenity. By eight o’clock in the morning, the sun has been up for a while and the household is bustling. The crowing of the rooster mingles with the chanting of a mantra, and a sun salutation greets the new day.
Sérénité
Nul besoin de plantations immenses, de domaines qui s’étendent sur des centaines d’hectares. Le thé c’est aussi cela, une maison entourée de camellia sinensis. Une production à échelle humaine. Dans de nombreux pays, la culture du thé a donné lieu à des pratiques intensives, en général en zone de plaine. Mais dès que l’on grimpe un peu, que l’on accepte de faire de la route, de finir à pied, on trouve des villageois qui cultivent le thé parmi d’autres matières agricoles et ces fermiers-là, de la façon la plus artisanale qui soit, manufacturent des thés remarquables. Il leur arrive aussi de vendre les feuilles fraîches à un voisin mieux équipé ou encore à la coopérative locale. Ce que je ressens ici c’est une atmosphère de sérénité. À huit heures du matin, le soleil était levé depuis longtemps et la maisonnée s’activait. Au chant du coq se mêlait celui d’un mantra, une salutation au soleil et à la vie.