I have a sort of sub-class of the “Daily Drinker” genre, a niche for “good but not great” shou pu-erh, usually loose leaf but occasionally beeng cha, that gets to strut its stuff after meals, acting as a combined palate scourer and digestif.
Just when I thought I was over the worst of it, the cold that refuses to die fought yet another rearguard action, a sneezing, coughing Battle of the Bulge, a temperature soaring, death-warmed-up counter-offensive.
When I was at a local food emporium recently, stocking up on Emona Brand Ceylon tea for Chai Masala, I made a discovery.
Mrs. Teaist came across this tea in a branch of Danish supermarket Irma, and given their reputation as purveyors of good quality foodstuffs thought it worth a punt.
Last weekend Teaist Junior was having a birthday party to celebrate her putting her teenage years behind her.
Necessity is the mother of invention, or so they say, and who am I to argue with that?
