The harvests will begin soon in Darjeeling. Happily, the tea is still picked by hand. The low-altitude plots are harvested first, for a simple reason: the tea plants have benefited from higher temperatures, meaning the terminal bud has grown faster. We can see that this photo was taken at the bottom of the valley, due to the gentleness of the slope and the density of the covering that protects the bushes from excess sunlight.
Those of you who have been reading my blog for a while will know that tea belongs to the camellia family. There are many varieties of camellia; the one that interests tea enthusiasts goes by the name of Camellia sinensis. The shrub is deliberately kept low to make it easier to pick the leaves – a height known as the “plucking table”. In winter, the tea plants enter a dormant period. Come the spring, they wake up again, then you must wait until the bud is a respectable size so that it can be picked, along with the next two leaves. This is known as a “fine plucking”. There is just one more month to go before the first harvests start.
This is what a Japanese tea garden looks like in winter. Against the backdrop of volcanoes, rows of freshly clipped plants wait for spring to release them from their dormant period. They slumber under the benevolent watch of the fans, ready to chase away any frosty mists.
If you’re someone who thinks about the health of our planet and you want to reduce your use of packaging, you might consider what benefit there is in using a tea bag instead of loose-leaf tea next time you’re brewing a cuppa. It’s true that when we’re on a flight or staying in a hotel it’s nice to have our favourite tea to hand, and it wouldn’t be convenient to carry around a canister.
But at home or at work, it’s so easy to use a teapot or a mug with an infuser. Tea bags are practical, of course. But it’s not difficult to measure out tea leaves: a pinch between three fingers is about right for a 10cl cup. Then pour over the hot water. So simple. And it does away with one, two or even three layers of packaging.
For years, I didn’t take any photos, misguidedly believing it wasn’t possible to look around me and photograph at the same time. Later, I changed my mind. Those landscapes and portraits taken around the world inspired me to share them, and so the blog was born.
Like the Tea School and the books I’ve written with Mathias Minet (The Tea Drinker’s Handbook, Tea Sommelier), the role of this blog is to impart both knowledge and passion.
This month, my blog celebrates its 691st article, or rather, its ten-year anniversary, so I’m inviting you to help me blow out the candles. I’d like to thank Mathias, Laurent, Philippe, Emilie, Marta, Bénédicte, Kevin and Hélène, who were there at the start or who’ve been part of the journey. And I’d like to thank you, my readers, for following me. Your support is precious, and it touches me.
There are artisan teas, and there are industrial teas. The same is true for many of the products we consume. If we had to pick something that symbolises the work of the artisan, we could talk about their craftsmanship, or we could talk quite simply of their hands. Artisanal work involves the hands. To produce a fine tea, to pick the best leaves or to take cuttings, hands play an essential role.
What about consuming better quality but less? It would mean that every time we bought an object or item of food, we would ask ourselves if hands played a part in making it.
In less than three months, the spring cycle will begin, and with it will come a deluge of new pluckings. As in every year, in addition to our regular selection, I will set off with my assistant tea researcher in search of rare teas. The work of a tea researcher involves constantly reviewing the teas we choose and tasting new teas from farmers we work with already (there’s no guarantee that someone who produced an exceptional tea the previous year will produce anything as good the year after). The work also consists of seeking out new farmers, both in well-established production regions as well as new areas where pioneers are starting to gain the necessary expertise. This photo was taken in Malawi, a country that just a few years ago, nobody would have suspected of being capable of producing good tea.
I wish all of you an excellent year. I hope you find time to be good to yourself, to be good to others, to meditate, be happy, enjoy nature, walk through beautiful landscapes, reflect, smile, rest, shut your eyes, breathe deeply, consume less and better, think of generations to come, of the planet, and to make every moment, every mouthful of tea, a moment of pure happiness.
The photo I’m sharing with you today may come as a surprise. After all, you’re used to seeing the faces of tea pluckers, planters, farmers, people from diverse ethnic backgrounds in colorful traditional garb, and passers-by encountered at the summits of various mountains.
But back in Paris, there are also teams working to bring the superb teas we discover safely to their destination—that is, to you! It wouldn’t be fair to talk only about faraway people without also showing you who’s hard at work in Paris. A few days ago, the team decided that we should wear costumes for Christmas. Surrounding me, from left to right and top to bottom, let me present Clément, Charlotte, Lucille, Laura, Anaïs, Chloé, Eléa, Céline, Juliette, Laurie, and Sonia. I wish each and every one of you a very happy holiday!
The winter in general and especially the festive season is an ideal opportunity to explore dark teas, which have been fermented. The best known come from Yunnan and are called Pu Erh. They are sold in loose-leaf form or compressed into cakes (see photo). Dark teas undergo a slow ageing process (sheng) or an accelerated one (shu). They are prepared in a teapot or a gaiwan (gong fu method). Pu Erhs give off powerful aromatic notes of wood, undergrowth, spices, damp earth and animal aromas. And if I add that these dark teas are popular in China to help ease the effects of overeating, you’ll understand why this is a good time of year to discover them!
