New Year's Tea

On New Year's day I sometimes like to have a tea party, using a few of my favorite porcelain and silver pieces to serve a variety of sweets and savories. The day's tea menu rests on an English porcelain menu stand, a charming 6" high table accessory from the 19th century. Although neither menus nor such accompanying stanchions are used in domestic settings today, these were once useful articles of dining that revealed the coming meal, and its inherent social expectations, to guests. Menu stands first appeared after 1870 in England and America, correlating with revisions to established dining rituals.

Handpainted Porcelain Menu Board, C.T. Maling, England, 1875-1908.

At Table: Using Menus in the 19th Century

Whether in elite or middle-class homes, eating at the 19th century Euro-American dining table involved a delicate negotiation of prevailing class mores-- a social drama enacted between the hosts and their guests. The handling of utensils and food was subtly observed and critiqued with regard to prescribed decorum. Dining manuals were published regularly, describing the correct procedures for hosts and guests to follow. It was not until the third quarter of the 19th century that dining fashions shifted in England and America, catching up with continental European trends.

Until the 1870s, the longstanding English dining custom had followed service à la francaise, in which the entire meal was first placed on the dining room sideboard, a brilliant, conspicuous display that unfortunately also meant one's food was usually cold by the time it was served at table. Service à la russe was introduced in France in the early part of the century, via the Russian court, and finally caught on in England and then in America after the 1860s. In this manner of presentation (most closely resembling today's) diners are seated at a table, often extravagantly decorated with floral and sweetmeat arrangements. Dishes are brought out and served in individually apportioned courses once they are prepared, and the serving pieces and food-specific eating implements are duly changed in anticipation of the next course's requirements.

Despite the advantages of service à la russe, diners were initially reluctant to change styles. As Esther Aresty frames the argument in The Exquisite Table: A History of French Cuisine (New York: Bobbs-Merrill, 1980), "how could one judge what quantity to eat of a dish, not knowing what was to follow-- and even more important, how could one adequately measure the bounty of a host?" (101). With these thoughts in mind, the daintily rendered menu card and its stand provided diners with a literal preview of the meal to follow. An entry in one 19th century treatise on domestic management reads:

Menus, or Bills of Fare.-- These are generally placed by the side of each individual, so that he may know at once what is to be set before him, and may partake of that which he most approves. A small menu stand, containing the bill of fare, may be placed before each guest, and most beautiful and artistic cards are sold upon which the order of the dinner can be written. The task of drawing up the bill of fare is generally undertaken by the mistress of the house or by the experienced cook to whom she trusts the execution of her orders. Knowledge, taste and judgment are called for in its accomplishment, and the crowning honor of a successful banquet certainly belongs to the person who conceived the idea of it...Menus may be made as souvenirs by the hostess, being either hand-painted or embroidered.
--Scammell's Universal Treasure-House of Useful Knowledge: an encyclopedia of valuable receipts in the principal arts of life, 1885, published by H.A. Hess of Salt Lake City in 1889.

Several sample menus are then provided, of which the seasonal tea menu is shown below:

By the turn of the century, menu stands became a common feature at dinner gatherings and silver menu stands were often presented to guests at commemorative events.

Silver Menu Stands, Goldsmiths & Silversmiths Co. Catalogue, 1899, London.

Eating out came into fashion in the latter part of the century in relation to new dining habits, and table menus and stands became a feature of restaurant establishments. This novel requisite of the table provided a platform for invention as seen in an 1883 patent for a napkin ring cum menu holder, below.

Indeed, the menu stand took on a few uses beyond the obvious. As one column in the periodical "Table Talk" quips, "The inventor of the menu-holder, with mirror back, was undoubtedly a woman. She understood the value of a sly look at hair, flowers and complexion. It is such a tonic to wit and conversation to be assured one is looking their best. ("Table Talk," Vol. 7, 1892)

The Taste of Snow: Some Historical Uses of Snow in Food & Drink

Snow is a mutable substance, its icy particles giving way to a watery essence when heated. Perhaps it is this transformative process that imparts the subtle but defining characteristics that make melted snow very different from plain water. For centuries, snow has been used not only to keep food and drink cold, but as an ingredient.

Buoyant Lightness

Snow was considered a superior source of water for brewing tea in premodern China, because of its pure, unadulterated nature and slight effervescence. Snow was collected from plum branches or rocks, before it could get sullied and either used immediately or kept in cold storage. Several literary examples from the Ming (1368-1644) and Qing (1644-1911) eras illustrate the use of snow as a refined gesture when serving tea for a special occasion. A poem by the Qing poet Mao Ti (a member of the illustrious women's literary circle known as the Banana Garden Poetry Club) alludes to the practice:

In the mountains, hungry crows clamor on a thousand trees,
I myself brush the icy flakes together, I myself brew the tea.
I don't care that the freezing cold causes me to shiver all over:
I worry only that the snow may crush the old plum blossoms.

Translation from Idema, Wilt and Beata Grant, The Red Brush: Writing Women of Imperial China
(Cambridge, Mass.: Harvard East Asian Monographs, 2004), 495.

In the Qing novel, The Story of the Stone, by Cao Xueqin, the practice is portrayed more comically. In the following scene, Baoyu, the eldest son of the prominent Jia family, and his cousin Daiyu are drinking tea prepared by Adamantina, a nun at a Buddhist sanctuary:

‘Is this tea made with last year’s rain water too?’ Daiyu asked her [Adamantina].
Adamantina looked scornful. ‘Oh! Can you really not tell the difference? I am quite disappointed in you. This is melted snow that I collected from the branches of winter flowering plum trees five years ago, when I was living at the Coiled Incense temple on Mount Xuanmu. I managed to fill the whole of that demon-green glaze water jar with it. For years I couldn’t bring myself to start it; then this summer I opened it for the first time. Today is only the second time I have ever used any. I am most surprised that you cannot tell the difference. When did stored rainwater have such a buoyant lightness? How could one possibly use it for a tea like this?"
Cao Xueqin, The Story of the Stone, vols. II, trans. David Hawkes, (New York: Penguin, 1973), 315.

While the proper water complemented and enhanced the flavor of tea, Cao’s description of the nun’s fastidious preparations approaches the fanatic, perhaps mocking overzealous Qing tea connoisseurs. A similar scene occurs in the Ming period novel, Jin Ping Mei. A woodblock print depicting a servant collecting snow for tea accompanies the text. See David Tod Roy, trans., The Plum in the Golden Vase or, Ch’in Ping Mei, v. II: The Rivals (Princeton, New Jersey: Princeton University Press, 2006), 13.

I was curious to find out how snow-brewed tea tasted and so I recently made two pots of the same oolong tea- one pot was brewed with water and the other with melted snow of equal temperature. The snow tea made my tongue tingle and the difference in taste was considerable, with an added depth of flavor and roundness to the snow-brewed tea.

Snow for Eggs

Mrs C.F. Leyel's Puddings (c. 1920) includes an interesting recipe for snow pancakes, which calls for a tablespoon of snow to be pressed into each pancake as it cooks on the griddle.



Leyel does not explain the purpose of adding snow to the pancakes, but a little research revealed that this was a common practice in both Britain and America up until WWII. Cookbooks such as Buckeye Cookery & Practical Housekeeping (1877), The Woman Suffrage Cook Book (c. 1886), Miss Parloa's New Cook Book (c.1880) invariably include a recipe using "new-fallen snow" in either pancakes or puddings. An explanation appears in a recipe for Plum Pudding in Jennie June's American Cookery Book (1870) by Jane Cunningham Croly. Croly states: "two table-spoonfuls of snow are equal to an egg in any pudding." (161). This was valuable knowledge for the average housekeeper. Croly later elaborates rather eloquently:

In making pancakes or puddings, snow is an excellent substitute for eggs; two table-spoonfuls of snow stirred in quickly are equal to an egg in puddings or pancakes for making them light. It is explained by the fact that snow contains in its flakes much atmospheric air, which is set free as it melts. (280)

While I didn't find snow pancakes to be as tasty as those made with eggs, they are worth trying. Leyel's recipe is below:

Mrs C.F. Leyel's Snow Pancakes

1/2 lb flour
1 Tbs salt
rind of lemon
milk
snow

Mix the flour, lemon rind and salt together, and make into a thick batter with the milk.
Put a piece of butter in an omelette pan, and when it frizzles, beat up very quickly a tablespoonful of snow with each pancake and fry until lightly browned on both sides.
Fold the pancakes, dredge them with sugar, and serve piled up.

For more on cooking with snow, see this post on snow bread from The Old Foodie.

Camellia Flower Tea

Tea is a product of the Camellia sinensis plant. The leaves are dried and processed using a variety of methods that result in black, oolong, green, and white teas. Further variations might include flowers such as jasmine or orchid, which infuse the tea leaves with their fragrance. Although such flavorings were disdained by many tea scholars of the Ming era (1368-1644) in China, these fragrant teas have remained popular and today are a subject of connoisseurship.

Some teas, such as chrysanthemum, are made without using tea leaves at all, and are appreciated for their unique flavor and medicinal qualities. Camellia sinensis flower tea, made exclusively from the blossoms of the tea plant, is a lesser known example. Camellia flowers contain a trace amount of caffeine and some polythenols and catechins, properties that make tea leaves so beneficial to health. I recently acquired some Chinese heirloom camellia flowers from Upton Tea Imports, located in Massachusetts. After immersing the flowers in boiling water for 8 minutes, the water becomes a glowing nectar, with whole blooms slowly drifting to the bottom of the teapot. The fresh taste is reminiscent of a delicate white tea, but with a softer finish and sweet undertones. Camellia flower tea is an excellent choice for a spring afternoon and makes a refreshing iced drink as well.

Chaikhana: The Teahouse in Central Asia

The Silk Road is defined by the group of land based trade routes along which goods (of which Chinese silk was a major commodity) were delivered between China, Western Asia and further west to the Mediterranean. From the 2nd Century BCE to the 16th Century CE, it was central to the distribution of goods around the world. To view some maps, visit The Silk Road Project and The Silk Road Foundation. It was along these roads through present day Syria, Iraq, Iran, Uzbekistan, Turkmenistan, Tajikistan, and Kazakhstan, that the chaikhana, a Pashto word meaning "tea room," came about.

Chinese accounts from the Tang Dynasty (618-907 CE), record that Western (i.e. Central Asian) traders frequented the teahouses in the Tang capital, Changan (Xian) upon their arrival to this trade destination (Edward H. Schafer, The Golden Peaches of Samarkand, Los Angeles: University of California Press, 1985, 20). In China, teahouses were well established in cities by the Northern Song period (960-1127) and tea was enjoyed by commoners and the elite. Although I have not found documentation that dates when tea was first served along the Silk Road, The Story of Tea, a Sufi story from the teachings of a 12th Century Sufi Master, Ayn al-Qozat Hamadani (d. 1140), refers to the chaikhana (Idries Shah, Tales of the Dervishes, New York: Penguin, 1993.). In the tale, tea serves as a metaphor for spiritual awakening and the chaikhana as a place to experience this awakening and thus acquire wisdom.

The chaikhana is still found in Central Asia, and serves an important social function. Like a village mosque, the local chaikhana is an institution. Men are the patrons of the chaikhana, and thus this public domain is actually quite exclusive. Although casual, its role is well defined. In addition to providing tea and sometimes food, the chaikhana functions as a meeting place for the exchange of news, gossip, and ideas (Rafis Abazov, Culture and Customs of the Central Asian Republics, Westport, CT: Greenwood Press, 2007).

While the style and decoration of a chaikhana differs from region to region, traditional Central Asian tearooms can be largely described as simple wooden structures often including exterior columns and window frames with carved ornamentation, interior walls and ceilings painted with brightly colored images, and furniture covered with patterned textiles (Mack and Surina, Food Culture in Russia and Central Asia, Westport, CT: Greenwood Press, 2005). Wall paintings are common decorative features. Iranian tearooms often display frescoes illustrating well known historical tales such as the epics of Rostam.

Detail of an Islamic painting with a decorative vegetal motif. Pink palmettes are enclosed within the shape of a mihrab.

In Afghanistan such tearooms are known as samawat, a term relating to the Russian samovar used to prepare tea. Located at road crossings and the entrance to villages, the samawat exists in relation to traders en route to the bazaar. In Popular Art in Afghanistan: Paintings on Trucks, Mosques, and Teahouses, Micheline Centlivres-Demont notes the absence of the samawat in towns without a market; travellers are instead offered refreshment and rest in guest houses. Centlivres-Demont presents a survey of the samawat she encountered while travelling in Afghanistan in 1975. While she observed a variety of teahouses, from modest to fancy, she describes Afghan teahouses as consisting of one or a few rooms with tamped earth floors and whitewashed walls often decorated with elaborate narrative painting or inexpensive lithographs of Indian film stars. Patrons drank imported Indian tea- green tea in warmer weather and black tea in colder weather- from bowls or glasses, and sat or reclined on a dais which could be moved outside in nice weather. Many teahouses have an attached outdoor area for travellers to tether their animals. The samawat is also seen by asphalt roads, catering to truck drivers. Such establishments were usually less decorative and often served more canned soda than tea.

As with the chaikhana, the samawat is often decorated with wall paintings. These are executed by itinerant artists and depict stylized images of scenes and symbols relevant to Afghan life including birds, flowers, vehicles, teapots and teacups, buildings, villages, roads, and weapons such as guns and axes. In the 1970s, Centlivres-Demont observes, many traditional teahouses in Kabul were demolished and replaced with newer buildings.


In the recipe below, airy layers of buttery puff pastry are seasoned with poppy seeds, acacia honey, and delicately pungent pink peppercorns. The puff pastry part is based on an excellent shortcut for palmiers that appeared in the Nov/Dec 2008 issue of Vegetarian Times. Although these cookies do not represent typical chaikhana offerings, they are somewhat related to the traditional layered dough recipes of Central Asian nomads. In the absence of ovens, these nomads may have devised the method of layering sheets of dough to create height when cooked over an open fire (Charles Perry, "The Taste for Layered Bread among the Nomadic Turks and the Central Asian Origins of Baklava, A Taste of Thyme, London: Tauris Parke, 2006.).




Recipe
Honey, Poppy Seed, and Pink Peppercorn Pastries

I sheet good quality frozen puff pastry (I use Dufour), thawed
1/3 cup sugar
2 Tbs poppy seeds
pink peppercorns
honey

1. Preheat oven to 375ºF. Line baking sheet with parchment paper. Sprinkle half of sugar and half of poppy seeds on work surface. Place puff pastry sheet on top and sprinkle remaining sugar and poppy seeds evenly on it. Using a rolling pin, press sugar and seeds into pastry and roll out into an 11" square. Cut out 2" rounds with a cookie cutter. Or, cut diagonally into diamond shapes.

2. Put pastry on baking sheet and using your hands, crush 2 or 3 peppercorns over each cookie. Cover cookies with a sheet of parchment paper and another baking sheet. This will prevent the pastry from rising, allowing for compact, crispy cookies. Bake 15 minutes or until just turning golden. Remove top baking sheet and parchment and bake 5 minutes more. Remove from oven and cool. Drizzle with honey and serve with tea or coffee.

Photo information: The lead photograph shows a Royal Worcester Porcelain Ewer from England, ca. 1886. The gilt decoration depicting an arabesque motif was inspired by Islamic decorative aesthetics and reflects the taste for the "exotic" in Europe and America in the late 19th Century.

Congee: A Dish of Propriety

By definition, the English word "congee" describes porridge of an Asian background. The word is an Anglicized form of the Tamil kanji, a kind of rice gruel. Congee is thus distinguished from cereal based porridge. Rice porridge is found throughout Asia. It is commonly served to the infirm as it is easily digestible. Yet, anyone can enjoy it as a tasty meal throughout the day. Recipes of the Jaffna Tamils includes a reminiscence about eating a tea time meal of puli kanji (tamarind kanji) at home with one's family, as the monsoon rains soaked the world outside (Nesa Eliezer, ed. Recipes of the Jaffna Tamils Hyderabad, India: Orient Longman, 2003).

Historically, congee has served a more significant role as a ritual food, correlating with ritual fasting. A thin gruel was a suitable choice for acclimating the body to food, while providing concentrated nutrients. According to Ammini Ramachandran on peppertrail.com, in Kerala, kanji was often eaten on every new moon, a time of ancestral prayer. This was in accordance with beliefs that linked fasting or eating simple foods like congee, with spiritual ascension.

In China, the link between congee and ritual may be traced back to the 1st Century BCE and possibly earlier. The Chinese word 粥 zhou is mentioned in the Li Ji (Record of Rites) compiled by Dai the Younger in the 1st Century CE as the first food served to family members after fasting due to the death of a parent (H.T. Huang, Science and Civilisation in China, v. VI: 5 Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2000, 82). Many other ancient texts treat congee in this context. Such references in the works of the 4th Century philosopher, Mencius, may be viewed in bilingual format on The Chinese Text Project. The Shiliao bencao, a Materia Dietetica from 670 CE discussed the use of green tea as a broth for congee, thus enhancing the gruel with the medicinal properties green tea was valued for at that time (Science and Civilisation, v. VI: 5, 555).

Because of its simplicity and associations with ritual and religious rites, congee has long been a symbol of deference to the proprieties of moral behavior, satisfying both physical and spiritual needs.

I have included two recipes for Chinese style congee. Of course I am generalizing, as the dish varies greatly throughout China.

Recipe

Green Tea Congee
Serves 2-4

Ingredients:

1/2 cup rice
3 cups water
3 heaping tsp green tea leaves, placed in a disposable tea bag or cheesecloth or use 3 teabags
salt to taste

Toppings (optional):

strips of baked or fried tofu
toasted sesame seeds
fried or poached egg


1. Bring water to boil in a large pot. Add tea in bag and rice and reduce to a simmer.
2. Remove teabag after 7-10 minutes.
3. Continue to cook until the rice is replete with water and a porridge-like consistency is reached, about 40 minutes. Season with salt and serve.

For a sweet alternative, add some grated ginger and sugar or honey.



Ginger Garlic Congee
This dish is excellent for staving off or treating a cold.
Serves 2-4

Ingredients:

1/2 cup long grain rice
3 cups vegetable broth or water
1 Tbs neutral oil
5 garlic cloves, minced
1 Tbs grated ginger
salt or soy sauce
white pepper

Toppings:

toasted sesame seeds, peanuts, or gingko nuts
chopped cilantro
sambal oelek
chopped scallions

1. Heat oil in a pot and add garlic and ginger. As they begin to release their aroma, add the rice and give it all a stir.
2. Add the vegetable broth or water, stir and cook until the rice is replete with water and a porridge-like consitency is reached, about 40 minutes. Season with salt or soy sauce and pepper, spoon into bowls and add toppings.

Tibetan Butter Tea

I first tasted butter tea on a blustery spring day at Tsampa, a Tibetan restaurant on E. 9th St in New York City, named after the barley flour prevalent in Tibetan cooking. Although some people find its intense saltiness an acquired taste, butter tea, known as bo ja, is instantly warming and satisfying, with a rich and intriguing flavor. In Tibet, the drink is made by heating a portion of compressed tea in boiling water for up to 15 minutes. The liquid is then strained and yak butter, salt, and if desired, milk, are added. Traditionally, the brew is poured into a wooden cylinder called a dogmo and churned until frothy.


A group of Tibetan bells.


In Tibet, butter tea is always served as a gesture of hospitality, and consumed throughout the day. The drink is not only found in Tibet, however, and is widely consumed in other areas of the Himalayas such as Bhutan and Mongolia as it provides essential vitamins and antioxidants, thereby offering sustenance and fortifying strength in the harsh mountain conditions. Butter tea is also known in China, particularly in areas that border Tibet, such as Sichuan. In fact, butter tea recipes are recorded in Chinese publications dating to the Yuan (1271-1368) and Ming (1368-1644) eras (H.T. Huang, Science and Civilisation in China, v. VI: 5 Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2000.). While Tibetan butter tea has a very different character from Chinese tea, it is actually closely related to early Chinese tea drinking practices of the Tang (618-907) and Song (960-1279) periods.

Perhaps the first large-scale introduction of Chinese tea drinking practices to Tibet began in the Tang dynasty, when Emperor Taizong sent his daughter, Princess Wencheng to marry the Tibetan King Songzan Gambo, in the middle of the 7th century. During the Tang dynasty, tea was commonly prepared with salt in China. In his treatise Chajing (Classic of Tea), Lu Yu, the 8th century tea scholar, details the procedure for roasting and grinding tea cakes into a powder to which boiled water was added. Salt was spooned into the water as it boiled. Lu Yu also lists a porcelain salt cellar among the accoutrements necessary for tea preparation. When Princess Wencheng travelled to Tibet, she brought the arts of the Chinese court with her. Craftsmen skilled in areas from calligraphy, tea ceremony, and textile production, to metalsmithing and agriculture, brought their materials, expertise, and techniques to Tibet. In this way the elite Tang mode of tea drinking was transmitted to the Tibetan court.



Later in the Song dynasty, another wave of Chinese tea culture reached Tibet. During this period, China began trading silk and silver with Tibet in exchange for the robust Tibetan horses needed for China's military. As this system became economically unfeasible for the Chinese, they eventually traded salt certificates for horses instead. Tibetan traders could easily redeem these for commodities, such as tea, in Sichuan markets. Chinese tea, sold in compressed brick form, became very popular in Tibet. China strictly guarded its monopoly of the tea industry, however, instituting punishments for those caught selling tea seeds and shoots to Tibet. (Paul J. Smith, Taxing Heaven's Storehouse: Horses, Bureaucrats, and the Destruction of the Sichuan Tea Industry, 1074-1224 Cambridge, Mass.: Harvard University Press, 1991).

By the Song period, little had changed in the Chinese tea making process, except that the final infusion was whisked to create a thick foam. The spumy surface was a point of aesthetic appreciation, believed to contain the tea's essence. Although among the Chinese elite tea was no longer made with salt, both the practice of salting and foaming tea are hallmarks of Tibetan-style tea. While it is likely that the Tibetan way of preparing tea was inspired by the Tang and Song Chinese methods, butter tea is uniquely suited to the Tibetan lifestyle, bracing the body and tempering a meat-rich diet with the concentrated nutrients of the tea plant.



Tibetan Butter Tea
Serves 1
Follow the proportions below to multiply the number of servings

Ingredients:

1 rounded tsp dark Chinese tea, preferably pu' er
1 cup water
1 Tbs butter
1/4 cup whole milk or cream (optional)
1/4 tsp salt

1. Bring water to the boil and add tea. Simmer about 8-15 minutes.
2. Strain leaves and return brewed tea to the pot. Add butter, salt, (and milk if using) to the tea. Mix with an immersion blender until frothy.
3. Pour into cup and serve with something sweet.