Tea leaves

The other day, I purchased my very first tea infuser and my very first packet of loose-leaf tea. My best friend K., who is a tea enthusiast, was quite proud to hear that I was finally venturing in her footsteps.

The tea I bought was a green blend dubbed Genmalcha. I have not found myself to be a fan of green tea in the past, not iced and not hot. Typically, I don't enjoy the usual taste of green tea, but I hear no end to the benefits of drinking it. I managed to conjure up enough courage to ask the woman in the shop that I stopped in if she could recommend a good green tea for me to try, and she pointed out several for me to smell. I was most intrigued by one that boasted a description of "sweet & unique blended with toasted rice!" To me, it smelled lightly of grass and popcorn.

As she weighed out 2oz for me, the woman explained that the Genmalcha tea dated all the way back to the time of the Chinese Emperors. Once, a servant accidently spilled rice into the emperor's tea, and the infuriated ruler had the servant beheaded immediately. On a whim, the emperor tasted the tea, and to his surprise, he found the rice added a delightful flavor. Filled with remorse at his hasty punishment, the emperor named the new blend after the dead servant, Genmalcha.

Using my infuser for the first time!

Brewed, the pale green tea still had the grass and popcorn aroma from before, and the taste was similar. It was light and delicate, a soothing flavor that did not distract or confuse. To me, Genmalcha seems to be a tea well suited to reading or writing, where the brain is occupied elsewhere. I think it will soon become a staple in my tea collection, for the brew is perfect unsweetened and does not leave an aftertaste at all. It is a kind of haiku, there on your tongue for a moment, and then gone. But I enjoy the moment.