The Story of Tea

by Mary Lou Heiss

Samovars are elaborately designed vessels that boil water and keep it heated to the proper tea-brewing temperature. Water is filled from the top and heated and stored in the middle section. Today most samovars are electric, but in the past a center tube running up the middle of the samovar held charcoal or hot coals necessary for heating the water. The town of Tula, which is located south of Moscow, is the center of samovar production in Russia, and production here dates from the late 1700s.

  SAMOVAR STYLES

  No matter which style of samovar one has, hot water, not tea, is dispensed from an ornate spigot located at the bottom of the urn. The samovar’s size gives it an impressive stature; most are tall and come in several different shapes—spherical, cylindrical, barrel-shaped, or urn-shaped. Samovars are made of brass, silver, or stainless steel, and range from plain and utilitarian to excessively ornate and garish versions painted with pink flowers on a black background. Many beautiful old samovars once brought to America by Russian immigrants can be found for sale in specialty antique shops in the Lower East Side of New York and in Brooklyn, but be ready to pay steep prices for spectacular examples or samovars that have been restored to near perfect condition.

  At the top of the samovar a crownlike top (komforka) is made to hold a small metal or porcelain teapot (chainik) and keep the contents warm. In folk tradition the chainik is sometimes covered with a tea cozy doll made in the folk-art likeness of an old woman; her abundant skirt billows out and covers the teapot, keeping the heat in. The chainik contains strong concentrated tea known as zavarka. When it is time for a cup of tea, the user pours a small amount of zavarka into a teacup or a straight-sided tea glass that sits in a fanciful filigree silver or enamel holder with an attached handle (podstakannik). Hot boiled water (kipyatok) is released from the spigot, and the tea is diluted to taste. The usual ratio is ten parts kipyatok to one part zavarka, but adjustments are always made for individual taste.

  THE RUSSIAN PORCELAIN TRADITION OF EMPRESS ELIZABETH

  Russia is known for exquisite decorative porcelain teawares, with designs that are uniquely Russian in style. As tea drinking filtered its way through all levels of society, Russia developed unique customs. Under the rule of Tsar Peter the Great (r. 1687–1725), Russia was brought out from under the dark mantle of medieval times and fashioned into a Western-style European power. Backed with a strong heritage and a unique, vibrant culture, Tsar Peter hired artisans and craftsmen from the European continent to create a luxurious Russian lifestyle for his imperial court that would reflect the worldliness and good taste of Russia. In keeping with his desire to establish credibility with the rest of Europe, he moved the capital from Moscow to the new city of St. Petersburg, a city that he created to reflect his sophisticated ideals for Russia.

  Peter’s daughter Empress Elizabeth continued to blend refinement and art with Russian culture when she ascended the throne in 1741. Instead of commissioning objects from Europe for the court, however, she established the Imperial Porcelain Factory in St. Petersburg in 1744, something that Peter desired but never accomplished. Although the overall direction of production in the Imperial Porcelain Factory remained truly Russian, the influences of German and French artisans combined to produce stunning porcelain tablewares and decorative accessories that featured opulent uses of gold and highly decorative, elaborate hand-painted scenes. In Elizabeth’s day Russian state banquets were complicated and structured affairs, lasting many hours and requiring abundant and sophisticated sets of dishes, serving pieces, and grand decorative objects to grace the banquet tables. The Imperial Porcelain Factory served all of Elizabeth’s needs, an accomplishment equaled only by the courts of Germany and France and an achievement that was a matter of great pride to Elizabeth.

  Under the rule of Catherine the Great (r. 1793–1796) European customs became even more firmly entrenched at court, and tea drinking, which had become fashionable among the nobility and the upper classes in Europe, became a daily habit of the Russian court. Catherine reorganized the Imperial Porcelain Factory and called for the creation of specialized tea sets and dishes that mirrored the elegance of Continental wares but reflected a bolder, more expressive Russian style. Among the elite porcelain factories were Gardner and Kuznetsov, A. Popov, and the Kornilov Brothers.

  By the nineteenth century tea drinking had spread throughout all of the Russian provinces and all classes of society. But expensive leaf tea could only be afforded by the elite, while coarse, brick tea was consumed by the general population. As in China and Europe, tea drinking found its greatest audience when it became available to working-class people. For the average Russian citizen a cup of tea would bolster sagging spirits and supply a quick jolt of energy to housewives and workers. Today Russians drink tea throughout the day: as a pick-me-up during the day, with dessert, at an afternoon zakuska buffet, and in the evening, but never with a meal.

  A Soviet-era tea brick, with a hammer-and-sickle design embossed in the center of the brick.

  In 1925, a few years into the post-revolutionary Soviet era, the Imperial Porcelain Factory underwent a name change to the Lomonosov Porcelain Factory, in tribute to the celebrated eighteenth-century Russian chemist Mikhail V. Lomonosov. Today, fine, artistically designed porcelain teawares are still being produced in this factory and many pieces are available in the United States. The distinctive combination of bold cobalt blue and gold set against a white background maintains a strong visual presence that reflects the daring artistic influence heralded by Catherine the Great.

  Contemporary blue-and-white Lomonosov porcelain teawares are joined by decorative Russian silver tea glass holders (podstakanniks) outfitted with handle-less tea glasses.

  No matter the style of teacup or samovar in use, Russian hospitality and goodwill is legendary. Russian tea is consumed strong and black. It is sometimes accompanied by lemon or orange slices and pots of honey or jam to spread on rolls and bread. Russians never use milk with their tea, but their sweet tooth welcomes sugary accompaniments. In the past Russians often held a sugar cube in their mouth while sucking in the tea, a practice that is not commonly carried out today.

  Tea Culture in Tibet

  Tea was first introduced to Tibet in the early days of the Tang dynasty (618–907), when a marriage occurred between the Chinese princess Wen Cheng and the king of Tibet, Songtsan Gambo. Introduction of this invigorating and hot beverage to Tibetans provided them with warmth and supplemented their meager diet. Rather than follow the lead of the Chinese tea-drinking habit, however, Tibetans concocted their own ways of enriching and preparing the brew. By adding yak butter, yak milk, and salt to the brewed tea, Tibetans bolstered an energizing cup of tea into an enriching “soup.”

  A young woman operates an old wooden butter churn (dogmo) in a family-run teahouse in eastern Tibet. Photo courtesy of Sonam Zoskang.

  The Tibetans desire for tea began an interesting episode in China’s tea history. Tibet and Mongolia each has a long history of horsemanship and husbandry skills in breeding strong, healthy horses. During the Tang dynasty the Chinese emperor needed horses to supply his army with quick, reliable transportation, so the Chinese began to barter tea supplies with these border populations in exchange for a supply of powerful horses. Tea came to be valued as a food supplement and as a form of currency by the Tibetans and other border groups. This trading practice established the historic Tea for Horse Caravan Route, which extended from Sichuan to Lhasa, Tibet. This dangerous route followed treacherously narrow paths that skirted the sides of mountains and scaled stretches of barren, windswept plains. Turbulent river crossings were particularly dangerous, and trips took months to complete at the cost of many human and animal lives. Tea caravan routes continued to be the sole means of tea transport from China to Tibet until the advent of paved roads in the twentieth century replaced these routes with safer and quicker transport.

  YAK TEA CARAVANS

  During the height of trading, two hundred to three hundred yak caravans left Sichuan for Tibet and Mongolia e
ach day in addition to horse caravans. Also, there was a need to hire local tea porters to strap bundles of yak hide and bamboo-wrapped tea bricks to their backs and carry them across areas that were too narrow for the animals to traverse. The tea sent to Tibet and Mongolia was not of the same quality as that consumed in China. Border tea, as it was called, was for the most part a mixture of the coarsest leaf and twigs, compressed into bricks for easy transport on the arduous and treacherous journey across rugged terrain and inhospitable weather. Several grades of tea did exist—pure-leaf tea for wealthy merchants in Lhasa and members of the royal family—but it was brick twig tea for the poorest nomads.

  On the last day of the Tibetan New Year, a family makes its way up to Yumbu Lagang, a Buddhist chapel and the former palace of the first king of Tibet. Decked out in finery for the occasion, the yak carries temple offerings (Yarlung valley, Tibet).

  Tibetan tea drinking is associated with butter tea, although simple everyday “quick tea” to which salt and milk is added is also consumed. Making authentic butter tea is a lengthy process, and it begins by pounding bits of tea brick into a powder and adding the tea to a pan of cold water. The tea is boiled in the water until the water turns dark in color and the brew becomes strong. The tea is strained into a tall and narrow wooden tea churn, which is followed by the addition of yak milk, salt, and yak butter. The mixture must be churned vigorously with the long plunger until it is well blended and emulsified. We were told that today many shortcuts are taken when making Tibetan tea, and that most families do not use the butter churn except on special occasions.

  YAK BUTTER TEA WITH THE NUNS

  For us, no trip to Tibet would have been complete without a taste of Tibetan tea. Our friend Tashi knew where to take us to find a real cup of yak butter tea, something that he said is becoming a rarity these days in Tibet. Outside the city we climbed up a hill to a cave hidden away in the mountains in the vicinity of the Drephung Monastery. Once inside the cave, we were in the home of two Buddhist nuns who have lived there for sixteen and twenty-five years, respectively. Tashi made the introductions and the nuns showed us their butter urn and other tea utensils. They were beaming when they handed us little tin cups of yak butter tea that they poured steaming hot from a ubiquitous Chinese red thermos.

  A cave dwelling provides cozy shelter from the elements for two Buddhist nuns living a simple life in solitude and prayer (Llasa, Tibet).

  At first we were hesitant to take a sip, but politeness always overrules qualms when hospitality is involved. To be honest, the tea was not to our liking, but it was not as off-putting as we expected. The yak milk gave it an oily and very fatty texture, which coated our mouths and in comparison made our familiar cow’s milk seem quite bland and unassuming. It was easy to understand why this rich beverage is consumed in such quantities all day long by Tibetans trying to stave off their harsh weather conditions.

  TIBETAN TEA BOWLS

  When the tea is ready to drink, it is poured into traditional, plain Tibetan earthenware teapots. Many families own fanciful brass and silver gilt metal teapots, but these are rarely used except for special occasions such as weddings. Most Tibetans use tea bowls that are crafted from various Asian burlwoods. Elaborate and expensive tea bowls are fit with a silver lining that covers the inside of the bowl as well as the lip. A small band of wood is allowed to show around the middle of the bowl; otherwise, the bottom of the bowl is also encased in silver to create a protective base for the bottom of the bowl. Very fancy bowls feature repoussé silver embossed with the Eight Auspicious Symbols of Tibetan Buddhism. Small pieces of coral and turquoise are often used to stud the bands of the silver in simple patterns. Tibetan tea bowls are also used as food bowls for tsampa, a mixture of ground, roasted barley flour that is mixed with tea or water to form a soft paste. Tibetan nomads carry their tea bowls with them wherever they go; this is how great their reliance is on a hot cup of tea. Most wooden tea bowls build up a patina of fat from the yak butter in the tea; bowls are rinsed and dried but never thoroughly washed.

  Stacks of Tibetan tea bowls. Old, well-worn, and well-used traditional wooden bowls and more recent porcelain bowls decorated with Tibetan Buddhist symbols.

  It is a custom in Tibet when drinking butter tea to dip the third finger from your thumb into the cup and flick drops of tea three times to pay respect to the gods. Guests are always served tea, and it is not unusual for Tibetans to drink close to forty cups of tea a day. Yak butter tea is believed to aid in the digestion of the vegetable-less Tibetan diet of barley flour and meat, and it is also necessary to boost stamina against the harsh weather environment.

  Today Chinese glass and metal tea thermoses are widely used throughout Tibet, and teacups are as apt to be porcelain or enameled tin as wood and silver. In the monasteries tea is still consumed in vast quantities. When we visited the Jokhang Temple in Lhasa, we arrived early in the morning, just in time to observe young monks preparing the morning tea by heating water on a solar heater in one of the side courtyards of the temple. A fleet of insulated thermos jugs were lined up waiting to be filled with the hot tea. Sheets of metal had been cut and fashioned onto metal legs to create solar-powered heat reflectors, an effective way to heat oversized kettles of water in the thin air of this extremely high altitude. Inside of the temple we spied a stack of crude, unwrapped tea on a table near a doorway. The monk in charge of that room was kind enough to let us take a picture of the tea bricks in exhange for a few coins.

  A cache of crude tea bricks in the Jokhang Temple, the holiest temple in Tibet (Llasa, Tibet).

  Tea Culture in Morocco

  In Morocco exotic silver teapots fashioned with long spouts dispense streams of hot mint tea into short, colorful, gilded tea glasses at all times of day and night. These teapots are fashioned by artisans who hand-hammer festive geometric or arabesque designs into tin, brass, aluminum, or silver alloys. For wealthy clients teapots may bear motifs in gold plate, but all Moroccans use essentially the same tea equipment at home and in restaurants.

  Fancy silver teapots and colorful glasses add panache to tea drinking in Morocco.

  Morocco’s hot, dry climate is conducive to cooling off in a restful, shady place with a hot cup of sweet mint tea. To make this national beverage, a fistful of fresh mint is stuffed into the teapot along with a few tablespoons of sugar. Chinese Gunpowder green tea is the favorite tea, and the ratio of mint to tea used allows the tea to dominate the flavor. It is important to the Moroccan sense of hospitality that a welcome cup of tea be extended to all guests and visitors. Experienced tea servers like to engage in a bit of flair and gracefully dispense the tea into the cups from a foot or so in the air—hence the necessity for the long and arched pouring spout. Optional sprigs of fresh mint can be added to the glass.

  Moroccan tea glasses come in a rainbow of colors—blues, purples, greens, reds, gold, rose, and amber—and are usually purchased in sets of six glasses in the same color. Some patterns use an abundance of gold trim; others are more modest in their decoration. Handle-less silver holders with plain tea glasses are fashionable now, as well as frosted glasses decorated with modern designs. Some glasses have a little handle and a curvaceous shape and are accompanied by a flat little saucer. Moroccan tea trays are round or oval and are made in silver or brass. They are hand-hammered with similar designs to those used on the teapots. Silver receptacles for sugar and tea are used, and portable wooden tea stands hold the tray and accoutrements wherever needed. Platters of fragrant, honeyed, and spiced pastries featuring nut and fruit fillings and fresh fruit usually accompany Moroccan tea.

  Tea has gone from the drink of the emperor to the beverage of everyman, consumed daily by people of all ages in all walks of life. Despite the colorful differences in tea culture around the world, tea’s role and purpose is viewed in much the same way: with the power to rejuvenate and energize or provide a moment of calm and tranquility, tea reaches out to all of us and lifts the spirit.

  WESTERN RESEARCHERS ARE BEGINN
ING TO DISCOVER what tea drinkers in the East have believed for centuries—that tea is beneficial for maintaining health and vigor. Chinese anecdotal attitudes about the healthful benefits of tea have been shaped and groomed since tea’s first mention in early Chinese scripts from the Shang (1766–1050 BC) and Zhou (1122–256 BC) dynasties. Early chronicles associated tea with monks and learned holy men, important for establishing the loftier philosophical and religious merits of tea drinking and for keeping awake during long meditations.

  Asian cultures believe strongly in the beneficial cause and effect of food on human health; in effect, what we eat is reflected in how we feel. In her book Watching the Tree author Adeline Yen Mah recalls her Aunt Baba telling her as a child that “tea sharpens the mind, soothes the stomach, and nourishes your qi.” Chinese health focuses on qi (or chi) as the vital energy within one’s body, an internal life force. A qi out of balance therefore results in sickness or disease. A familiar Chinese proverb is “Let food be medicine” (Yi shi wei liao).

  Because of their long history of practice and discourse with tea, Asians are said to be born with “tea in their veins”; their psyches are thus hardwired to the subtle nuances that permeate their tea cultures in ways that Westerners, despite our nearly three hundred years of tea drinking, are not connected to. But as Westerners begin to tune in to more healthy eating habits and look to beneficial foods for proper nutrition, tea has risen to the top of the charts, joining the list of such power foods as soy, fish, green leafy vegetables, and most fruits. Researchers are studying both green and black tea to understand the potential healthful benefits of their naturally occurring antioxidants. Although each class of tea offers different antioxidants, the reports coming in for both types of tea are positive.