Art of Tea

I just tried a new tea, Royal Mandalay Chai, a vanilla chai latte. Now, I'm a tea drinker mostly, and I do love chai, but with the sudden revival of the teatottler, hideous mock-ups are arriving on the American shores, teas that the British would have turned their noses up at and the Japanese would have been offended over. And we drink it. Why? Hell, my bottle cost $0.59! In a capitalist country, why not!

These "teas" showing up on the market are a discredit to the true art of tea.
"Art of tea?" you may ask.
Yes, there is an art to it.

I patiently learned how to brew a good cup of green tea, and I don't mean the American style pop-teabag-in-water-shove-in-mircowave routine. That makes a horrible concoction we are forced to think is tea. I mean loose leaf sencha (excellent brand of green tea, healthy, full of flavor but subtle, and at least it's not in a baggy). Once you try a good cup of sencha, it is difficult to go back to drinking other teas. I now only use my Lipton teas to mix Kava with. I like chai when I'm in a playful mood, but nothing beats ending the day with a cup of sencha. That is something you can't get from teabags and sugary powders.

I've also experimented with herbal teas, mostly for health, not as actual drinks. Chamomile tea if I can't sleep (although Kava is replacing that), mint tea for upset stomach (often with fresh mint I grow in the window), raspberry tea for... um... feminine trouble.

But these generic teas, like this Royal Mandalay my mom bought me....

Sure, you might be able to get it cheap, sure it takes little or even no preparation at all, but isn't part of the enjoyment of tea in taking that time, five minutes out of the day, to properly brew the tea, make sure it is not too strong or too weak, watch the tea leaves, enjoy a moment of reflection?

That is the art of tea.