My cup of tea

On my first flight to the States, the hot beverage for coach class on Northwest fleet was a mixture of tea AND coffee. The taste of this “special” brew was hard to describe. I am glad that it is gradually fading away from my memory. In those days, tea making and drinking in America involved Lipton tea bags, hot water and a mug. Loose-leaf tea was not commonly available. Hardly would anyone ask: “What kind of tea would you like?” Most people’s knowledge of Chinese tea was limited to the low-grade jasmine tea at Chinese restaurants where chop-suey was the top seller.

One of the first thing my family did every morning was to make tea. Like many Chinese tea drinkers, dad preferred green tea to black tea (or 紅茶—red tea). He felt that the natural sweetness of tea was lost during the oxidation process. Even the popular, semi-oxidized 烏龍 Oolong (literally black dragon) did not garner his approval.

Mom has a different kind of appreciation for tea. She used to accompany her grandma to pick tea leaves during summer months. She recalls often the labor-intensive work and all the details that involved.[1] She recalls the simple meals and lodging offered to the workers. Occasionally, for fun, mom would point out how some leaves/stems floated on top—like a fortuneteller reading leaves. We never took it seriously.

I brought some tea with me to the States, but the supply didn’t last long. Soon I found myself searching for something that didn’t need the help of lemon, milk or sugar; something that still had some taste after the first brew. I kept an open mind and started trying everything that I could find at grocery stores. It didn’t take long for me to find Earl Grey. Growing up with green tea, finding any kind of black tea agreeable was a very surprising experience to me.

With a little bit of research, I realized that it was the addition of bergamot oil that attracted me. Chinese people believe in the medicinal value of orange peel tea. When oranges were in season, my parents would clean and dry orange peels around the stove. Even though I found the taste of orange peel tea peculiar at first, I learned to love it. And, I always associate the perfume of dried orange peels to the warmth of a burning stove in winter time.

As tea-drinking becomes a trendy thing, there is a wide-range of varieties on the market. I enjoy tasting 龍井 (Longjing or literally dragon well) and good-quality Oolong. On a cold day, I find comfort in 玄米 (Genmaicha, Japanese green tea with roasted brown rice). I also like to refresh my palate with herbal and floral fusions. Yet, I don’t consider them “tea,” since they didn’t come from tea shrubs.

What’s your favorite tea?


[1] In Taiwan, low-growing tea plants are cultivated in mountainy areas. One often need to bend down while picking tea leaves. Seasonal labors commonly work long hours during harvest time. For good quality tea productions, only the new growth on the tip of the branches— “一心二葉” (one tip and two leaves)—should be picked. In recent decades, usage of harvesting machines has become more and more popular. While it increases productivity, it makes the quality less even.

清明時節雨紛紛 (Drizzling rain lingers during the time of Quingming)

Friday, April 5 was 清明Quingming Festival—the day when Chinese people visit their ancestral burial grounds. It falls on the first day of the fifth solar term (節氣) of Chinese lunar calendar on the 15th day after Spring Equinox. In most years, it falls on April 4 or 5 in Western calendar.

Chinese almanac explains the naming of this solar term: “Fifteen days after Spring Equinox, the handle of the Big Dipper points to the south. It is Quingming: when all things are clean, organized, pure and bright. During this period, air is pure (清) and scenery is bright (明), all lives appear, hence it was named.”[1] Clearly, it is the perfect time for spring outings, visiting nature and picnics. The festivities were depicted in some of the greatest Chinese paintings.[2]

At the same time, while people visit and clean ancestral tombs, melancholic sentiments are also felt during this period. The most vivid descriptions are found in Du Fu’s poem:

清明時節雨紛紛,路上行人欲斷魂。借問酒家何處有,牧童遙指杏花村。

Drizzling rain lingers during the time of Quingming,
Along the road, travelers feel as if their hearts would be broken.
Asking where there might be a tavern,
Shepherd boy points toward the village where apricot flowers are blooming.[3]

Last Friday, it rained all day. Several friends mentioned the coincidence of the weather matching the festival. I looked out of the window while traveling toward Newark. The marshland was misty and gray, slow to recover from long winter months. The dreary scenery reminded me that it had been thirty-six years since dad’s passing.

Dad passed on April 3, 1883 after long illness. Quietly, dad guided me in my formative years. He was one that encouraged me to trust my instincts and to follow my dreams. After all these years, I can still hear his voice directing me. His image never faded in my mind. Both my brother and I are often away from home during Quingming. When we are there at the same time, we try to visit dad’s grave—most often during summer months. This for many people are unorthodox. Yet, it is important for us.

I think that the true meaning of sweeping ancestral graves is to be reminded of traditions and to carry them on from generation to generation. And, the spirit of spring—regenerate and growth—is also important for all people.


[1] 《曆書》:「春分後十五日,斗指丁,為清明,時萬物皆潔齊而清明,蓋時當氣清景明,萬物皆顯,因此得名。」
[2]River Qingming;
Along the River During the Qingming Festival__Wiki
[3] 杜甫 Du Fu, Du Fu Wikipedia. I intend to reflect to the real meaning of the verses instead of formative structure.