I’d like to share with you the separation anxiety I am suffering through. It is not because of my separation from a loved one, from the place I called home for the last five years, or from working at Rishi, but rather from my stash of tea and beloved teapots! Whom am I kidding? I’ve always known I was a tea junkie, but this new-found sense of unease is explaining a lot about who I have become. On any given day, you can find at least a few teapots in use at my house, filled with different teas and stages of brews. My collection of teapots has grown along with my passion for tea and my experience pairing teas with teapots.
So, what am I missing the most? I miss my single-serving coil glass teapot filled with silver needle, my guywan filled with bai hao oolong, and my new super-thin, lightweight, and shiny kyusu filled with my umamilicious gyokuro. I was living the life with what seemed like a never-ending supply of tea and tea tables full of teaware ready to be filled with the aroma of the finest teas I could find. Now I have resorted to filters filled with a tea that is strange to me skewered with a pick resting on a new and foreign mug.
This self-created saga may sound dramatic to most, but I assure you that there are others like me – others who have spent years seasoning their teapots, building up their loot, and tasting countless brews of hits and misses. It takes time to get to know a tea and a teapot – to know how long it takes to warm the teapot, how hot the teapot gets, and how much bai hao it takes to make one smile.
So where are my teapots? They are crammed in a box on a moving truck somewhere between Milwaukee, Wisconsin and Northern California on a two-week voyage. They are surrounded by the rest of my belongings, which are not missed nearly as much. When asked if I had any valuables, I said, “Yes, my teapots.”
As I have said, I am a self-proclaimed tea and teapot junkie. I know I’m not alone …