[Given the fact that I, like everyone else affected by the Polar Vortex, have been weathering a cold for the better part of this week and consuming a diet that’s 75% tea, this review seemed appropriate.]
For certain decisions, there can only be one, answer. You love (not just like) the Beatles, or the Stones. You’re a Rachel, or a Monica. Chocolate, or (there’s nothing else. If your answer isn’t chocolate I would WebMD that problem and seek immediate attention).
I will argue, however, that when it comes down to coffee and tea, there’s enough love to spread around. Of course, I would never have withdrawal headaches if I didn’t drink a daily cup of tea when I get out of the shower between 6:45-6:52 a.m. (because shaving your legs just adds time, every time.)
Still, I do love tea.
If you don’t love (or even like) tea, there are one or two contributing factors that I, your herbal spirit guide, detect:
a) You haven’t found your tea. (Just like we all have a personal fragrance or beer or favorite stall in the office bathroom, we should have a no-fail tea choice. I found mine a couple years ago, and that has made all the difference.)
b) You don’t have tea toys.
The world of tea toys is probably more extensive than my Celestial Seasonings-doused brain can grasp, but if you’re looking to make an introductory foray into the territory, start with a Floating Tea Egg.
Investing in a tea egg must be predicated on having loose tea. Sure, you could be a pretend tourist and pop into a local gift shop, or throw on the peasant skirt that’s been laying low in your dresser since sophomore year of high school and peruse the Whole Foods hot beverage aisle, all in pursuit of dehydrated chamomile petals, shriveled up goji berries and dark, tobacco-like flakes.
OR, you could wait until someone gifts it to you. Because the chances that some colleague or family member or neighbor brings you a small package of loose leaf tea at some point in you life are very, very good.
That’s what finally spurred Matt to purchase this sweet Euro-baby last time we were visiting Philadelphia. It’s as compact and counter-space conserving in real life as you see it here:
And, as most modern kitchen appliances go, the AdHoc Floating Tea Egg is available in most Roy G. Biv varieties.
The whole floating concept makes this guy worth owning. I’ve tried clunkier versions (essentially globular silver dunk tanks that sink to the bottom of your mug for you to fish out with delicate fingertips) as well as fillable tea bags (an inelegant, soggy venture), and nothing compares.
Just be sure to fill it over a sink (because as Matt accurately informed me, “that shit gets everywhere.”)
Float on for as long as your chosen tea dictates; bask in its repetitive, bobbing nature and rejoice at how unscathed your fingertips will be.
So next time you receive a package of authentic English Breakfast or Chai (that hasn’t yet been adulterated by almond milk, sugar and froth), you have no excuse to let it sit unloved next to your boxes of pre-packaged Lipton and Bigelow. Top-quality tea leaves are worthy of an equally esteemed, buoyant vessel.