Postcard teas
Monday, May 31, 2010 at 12:26AM Tea for two, two for tea
I hope you liked that jaunty, candy-coloured beginning to this post. An "eye-filling, heart-thrilling" blast from the past, buoyantly refreshing and brimful of bygone elegance, charm and decorum, it shares more than a little with the wonderful teas from Postcard Teas.
Like many of the best discoveries, I found out about Timothy d'Offay's tea shop by happy accident, browsing one day in Moon, a local clothing boutique owned and run by the monochromatically chic Annie Good; I only ever saw her wear black and white, with perhaps an occasional concession to shades of grey.
On this particular day, Annie was suffering from a cold and remained behind the counter, warming her hands around a pretty burgundy tea bowl from which she took the odd restorative sip. Her shop was so small that it was impossible not to take in the pleasing perfume. Commenting on it, she told me that the tea was from a great little store in London. Not having any immediate London plans, she explained that they sold online and retrieved their details from her typically elegant leather-bound address book. No prizes for guessing its colour (yes, black).
That was almost two years ago and I've been ordering online ever since. I've wanted to go to the shop for almost as long. From the arrival of my very first order at least. But my plans have always been thwarted by short business trips without enough 'me' time. Until a fortnight ago when I visited London specifically to take in a growing list of foodie and cultural destinations that I haven't managed to squeeze in for, well, too long.
Located just off New Bond Street, the postcard-sized space is light and bright, its large windows adorned with handcrafted ceramic tea cups and pots. It's always quite special to meet someone whose work you hold in high regard. After introducing myself to Timothy and his assistant Lu, I wandered around looking for a tea bowl.
After selecting a stunning tea glass and two matching sake glasses (see below), Timothy asked me if I would like to share some tea with them, one of his favourites, Darjeeling First Flush from the Glenburn Tea Estate. As the name suggests, first flush Darjeeling teas are made from the first picking. Harvested in mid-March following spring rains, they have a very light colour, gentle aroma and mild astringency. Glenburn Estate's is ethereally delicate and refreshing with marked notes of honeysuckle. A morning walk through an early summer garden just after a burst of rain.
I particularly like Postcard's chai, Garam Assam Chai, the only well-balanced pre-blended chai I've encountered. Mixed with cinnamon, cloves, ginger, cardamom and bay leaves, both the tea and spices are evident, melding into aromatic harmony. I find most shop-bought blends are either not spicy enough or so strongly spiced that drinking them is like washing your mouth out with soap. I don't swear enough to go through that!
Stocking up my supply, Lu asked me how I usually make chai. Describing the standard Indian method - add tea and spices to milk, bring to boil and simmer for several minutes, finish with sugar - she suggested I try a method described by Timothy in his first tea book How to brew the perfect cup of tea, published in Japan last year. The technique involves a relatively long infusion at a low temperature, so preserving the natural sweetness in the milk and removing the need for additional sweetener.
Timothy's method for brewing the best cup of sweet chai
Place the milk in a saucepan and bring up to 50°C . Add your spices and black tea or a pre-prepared blend. Infuse for 5-7 minutes at about the same temperature, making sure it doesn't exceed 70°C or you will lose the natural sweetness in the milk. You can use a thermometer or your finger. I've no idea what 70°C feels like to hand touch - incredibly, Google has failed to return an answer - but do know that it should steam slightly without producing any bubbles. As they say in the film, "It's hot, it's sweet..."
Here are pictures of the lovely Japanese glasses that I bought, the larger one for tea and the smaller for sake. Commissioned by Hakuza, one of the country's oldest manufacturers of gold and platinum leaf, each one is hand blown by a local glassmaker giving it a unique shape. The fine ridging, reminiscent of spun sugar, gives good grip while the quirkily dimpled sides create a perfect fit to the hand. Both sizes are available in either a gold or platinum leaf finish.
I don't often drink sake, but thought the little ones would work well for serving amber-hued after dinner liqueurs. Spying the tubes of gold leaf, I quickly changed my mind to chocolate pots topped with a sprinkle of precious metal. Pure decadence with a fin de siècle flourish. I recently tried them with an orange blossom scented version, and they did look an absolute treat. Too good to last long enough for a photo. Next time, I promise.
Incidentally, the shop's name is inspired not by its diminutive dimensions, but a collection of original, hand-pressed postcards dating from 1900-1910. It is these soft and evocative images, faded and delicate as old silks, that are used to create the stunning artwork on the teas' packaging. All done in-house, the original images are modified slightly in Photoshop to suit the individual tea they have been selected to package.
Once you've purchased some of the finest teas you'll ever encounter, you'll want to ensure you enjoy them at their very best. With a selection of brass, copper and tin tea caddies from Kaikado of Kyoto, the oldest makers of handmade tin tea caddies in the world, Postcard Teas can help out with that too.
And check out their own blog, Single Estate Tea, started just a couple of months ago. Fellow green tea aficionados will find their most recent post of particular interest, an interview with Chinese Master Luo, one of the world's best green tea producers.
Drinking good tea in peaceful surroundings is an introspective and sometimes transporting experience. Everything about shopping at Postcard Teas facilitates that. An all round sublime experience that will captivate and titillate each of your senses. From the simply arranged store, stunningly packaged teas, handcrafted tea accessories made with love and care, the tranquil, Zen-like atmosphere and quietly mannered staff to the wondrous, tastebud-trilling teas themselves. Take some time out for a visit on your next trip to London, and if that's not going to happen any time soon, bring time out to you by placing an order online or over the phone.
9 Dering Street
London W1S 1AG
Tel: 020 7629 3654
Email: info@postcardteas.com
Opening times: Mon-Sat 1030-1830
Reader Comments (4)
Sonnda, thanks for the email, I'm so bad about keeping up with my favorite blogs. Loved this post, as always, and particularly enjoyed reading about tea. I am more of a coffee drinker, but of course living in "tea central" here in Japan, am fascinated by the culture of tea (and the accoutrements). Your shop's Japan ware are quite dear, but what else can one expect. You can still find beautiful antique tea caddies for unbelievable prices at flea markets. The problem is they are too wonderful to give away, so I keep them for myself. Selfish.
Hi Nancy. Hope you have managed to subscribe by now - I had a look at the widget after your last try and it was working so put it down to a temporary provider glitch. Please let me know if you still haven't had success. Next time I'm in Japan, will make sure to bring a case large enough to fit spoils from flea market raids. Meantime, I'm dying to hear more about your cookbook deal!
ps have you ever done a blog guest spot? I was thinking our interests are similar enough for a reciprocal one to work quite well... Please have a think on it and let me know.
LIKED THE FLOWERS MORE THAN THE SALTED CAPERS. HAD THESE LITTLE SALTED (TINGS BEFORE) AND NO MATTER HOW LONG I SOAKED THEM --THEY WERE STILL AS BRINY. LOVED THE STORY.
Many, many thanks for your kind words on Strathdon Blue. It's nothing but a complete pain in the arse to make with our greatest consistency being its inconsistency. There are so many components to the ripening stage that no matter how well the initial make has gone you can end up with all sorts after a couple of months. We refer to seasonality as a major component which infers that it's all about the milk. But in truth it's more of a reference to the ambient temperature of the dairy which doesn't see the sun from Nov to March (and little else in between) how it effects the cultures, blue mould and subsequent ripening. One day, if I keep at it, I might just make a consistenly average cheese. Very Heaven. Kind regards Rory Stone