Kenya’s famous purple tea, developed by the country’s largest tea research centre, is characterised by its contrasting foliage. While the older leaves retain the familiar green colour of camellias, the new shoots have a distinctive purple hue. This makes picking easier, as only the reddish tips, which are the most tender, should be harvested.
Au Kenya, le fameux cépage violet qui a été mis au point par le plus important centre de recherche du pays se caractérise par un feuillage contrasté. Si les feuilles plus anciennes conservent la couleur verte familière aux camélias, les pousses, en revanche, épousent une teinte pourpre facilement reconnaissable. Le travail de cueillette s’en trouve facilité et seules ces extrémités d’aspect rougeâtre, les plus tendres, doivent être récoltées.
Kenya is the world’s leading tea exporter. Although China and India produce more, both countries consume a significant proportion of their own tea, unlike Kenya. The East African country’s soil, climate and altitude are ideal for Camellia sinensis, which is why the British introduced the crop there in the early 20th century. Today, tea represents a significant portion of Kenya’s resources. But who knows about Kenya’s tea? Most of it is industrially produced CTC (crush, tear, curl) and is found in paper tea bags, usually in blends of different origins, which is why the production country is not mentioned on the packaging. However, Kenya has a bright future ahead of it, provided it focuses on the superb high-altitude teas, which are harvested by hand and processed using the orthodox method. These teas could generate much more income and pride for the people who make their living from this crop. We must rigorously select the finest batches, support the farmers, introduce them to new techniques, encourage their creativity, and do everything we can to make consumers aware of this unjustly overlooked tea-producing region.
Purple tea is part of Kenya’s identity. The colour refers to the tea variety rather than the way the leaves are processed. The cultivar is easy to spot while walking through the tea fields (seen here in the background). It is rich in anthocyanin, a natural pigment and an excellent source of antioxidants. Developed by Kenyan researchers, the cultivar is known as TRFK 306/1. After harvesting, the leaves can undergo the same processing as green, black, white or semi-oxidised tea, depending on the farmer’s preferences and expertise.
Tea is more than a drink; it’s a way of life, a journey and a path. There is no need to hurry. Take your time to look around you. The path we travel on our tea journey is part of the experience, as it leads us to the top of a mountain. It invites contemplation. To understand tea, you must understand the path that leads to it. You have to want to explore it and to get to know everything about it. The road to tea teaches us about tea itself: its inaccessibility, its climate and soil, even its flavours. As we observe the path and the landscape, tea reveals itself to us. En route to Trongsa in the Black Mountains of Bhutan, I pause to gaze in awe at the wetlands of Phobjikha Valley. If I wait a few days, the black-necked cranes will appear in the sky as they do every year, returning to settle here at the end of their long migration. They follow the same route every year, flying south from Tibet to escape the cold. Professional and amateur ornithologists await their arrival, counting them to ensure they are all present. My tea route crosses the path of those black-necked cranes. Tea shows us different landscapes and phenomena. It is the end of September, and the cranes will arrive in a few days. I wait, and watch for them.
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
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.
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.)
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.
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.
