The Tea That Isn’t

I’m not feeling too well, and no, this has nothing to do with being another year older.  I think it’s some kind of cold, and I hate being sick.

Sure, I could write about the curative powers of soup.  In theory I could even have some homemade chicken soup in a jiffy.  Last week I replenished my stock supply, so all I have to do is simmer a frozen cube of condensed chicken stock in some water and I’d be good to go.  But for some reason that isn’t really what I’m craving.  Maybe that’s because I’m not actually sick and still just fighting something off.

The hot toddy I had earlier actually had me feeling remarkably better, but cocktail day isn’t until the end of the week.  And if I allowed myself to drink hot toddies all night, there would be no way I could compose a coherent blog post.

So instead I’m left with tea.
Except it’s not tea.

Maybe you know this, and maybe you don’t.  But all tea actually comes from the same plant.  What makes it green or white or black is all about how it is processed.  Granted, that’s a gross oversimplification, but that’s what I do.

Then there are the other things that aren’t tea.  Chamomile, for example, isn’t tea, it’s flowers.  And yes, people widely use the phrase “herbal tea,” and I recognize that this is a legitimate use of the term, but things like chamomile “tea” are technically tisanes.

You know what else isn’t tea?  Yerba mate.  My sister came back from Buenos Aires with a taste for their regional pick-me-up.

I, on the other hand, prefer rooibos. Especially in the evenings, since it has no caffeine.  It’s soothing, but it doesn’t make me sleepy.  And it’s really tasty.  I pay no attention to claims about its antioxidants or flavonoids.  Food is for enjoying.

Rooibos is sometimes called African red tea or red bush tea.  But it’s not a tea either.  It comes from another plant.  And at least in Albany it’s been pretty hard to find the stuff.  There’s a couple of reasons for that.

1)    In general I prefer to buy loose leaf tea.
2)    In general I prefer to buy unflavored tea.

Or in this case, not tea.  Unfortunately, tea blenders love adding stuff to rooibos, and it’s more difficult than you could imagine to find just the plain, unadulterated leaves.  For a while they had them at the horrible mall tea store.  But ultimately that was discontinued.  My suspicion is that it was not a pricey enough product.

Fortunately I stumbled into Divinitea’s world headquarters in Schenectady. There I met the proprietress, and the two of us discussed tea, coffee and wine for the better part of a half hour, while Little Miss Fussy patiently waited.

I seem to be doing this a lot lately.

With Linda I felt closer to finding a kindred spirit here in the Capital Region.  After all, way back in 1997 she started this business with a partner as a small tea company dedicated to the principles of organic farming, fair trade, and healing the planet through environmental and social consciousness.

Don’t forget I was raised by a hippie.

Anyhow, Divinitea carries unflavored organic rooibos.  Two ounces set me back five bucks and will likely last me through most of the winter.  It’s places like this that make me wish I drank more tea.  I explained to Linda that it might be a while until I make it back to her store (which is now on upper Union street, despite what their website says), and she understood.

But if I can’t shake this cold, I may end up there much sooner.