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Tea Quotes

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Tea Quotes

“We decorate the heart-shaped snickerdoodles in pink and lilac frosting, topping each one with a tiny rosebud. Roisin brews a pot of passion fruit tea, sweetening it with honey before pouring it over a glass of ice and coconut milk. It turns a cloudy purple color. "This is a specialty at Petals Tea Shop," Roisin says. "Your auntie Laina named it the Midnight Rose Garden. It's one of my favorites." "It's wonderful," I say, taking a sip. It reminds me of family trips I used to take to Hawaii. My parents always said I was such a happy kid and didn't know what went wrong as I grew up. The passion fruit spilling over my tongue transports me back to placid waters--- ones that never whispered. The kind of waves that turtles call home and coral reefs burn bright. The same waves that culled my sunburnt shoulders, kissing my welted flesh and telling me I was okay. I was safe here. The water was safe. With Roisin, I am safe.”

“...without thinking the follow-up thought that prevents a person from following through with the original, she throws the tea in the mug at the screen and watches it drip down, while now, finally, allowing the follow-up thought to come through, the thought that would have stopped her from throwing the tea at the screen in the first place. She feels two things: recognizable regret and dim, unfamiliar power.”

“Lemon verbena, though. That's my favorite. It's a pretty hardy plant, and you can turn it into a tisane. In Morocco we call it louiza." "Louiza?" "You add the leaves to boiled water and they let out the most deliciously sweet fragrance. Not exactly lemony--- more like a honey balm." "What does the tea taste like?" he asked. "Sort of like chamomile, maybe, but with more body, and sweeter.”

“(at the police station pantry) There’s a large tub of instant coffee on top of a humming fridge, plus a microwave that doesn’t look as if it’s been cleaned since the millennium bug was a thing. A page of A4 has been taped to the fridge with, STOP STEALING MY MILK, YA THIEVING SHITES written in large capital letters. Zoe asks if I want a tea, then sets a kettle boiling as we sit around a small table. Zoe nods along as the kettle clicks off. She raids the cupboard for a pair of teabags from a giant PG Tips box, then drops one in each of two mugs, before filling. Milk comes from the fridge, although it’s unclear if this is of the ‘thieving shites’ variety, and then Zoe sits across from me.”

“Fortune-teller tea. Give it a sip!" The liquid was pink and smelled of strawberries, but when Maddie drank it, the flavor was deep and a little bitter, followed by a sudden burst of sweetness. Her father returned. "Well?" he asked. "It started out as black licorice and then melted into butterscotch," she said. "Oh, my girl, the tea is telling you that this is the year to keep your ear to the ground and listen for surprises. Change is coming!" Maddie's stomach was full of thoughts and her head full of butterflies. She checked her watch again. She couldn't wait for it all to begin.”

“The next morning we experienced our very first “full English breakfast,” which consisted of tea, orange juice, cookies, oatmeal, granola, berries, bananas, croissants, grapes, pineapples, prunes, yogurt, five kinds of cold cereal, eggs, hash browns, back bacon, sausage, smoked salmon, tomatoes, mushrooms, beans, toast, butter, jam, jelly, and honey. I don’t know how the British do it.”

“Tea & Toast by Stewart Stafford Let me stop in this lay-by a moment, That I have tagged - Tea & Toast, A shimmering oasis frequented often, A soothing elixir one loves the most. It's as comforting as a warm bath, Enjoyed even when wracked with pain, As welcome as an old friend's smile, On thundery days of lashing rain. No matter if the tea is too sweet or burns, Greasy butter hijacked by sandpaper crumbs, There shall be no Boston Tea Party here, Our minuscule parole from routine doldrums. © Stewart Stafford, 2022. All rights reserved.”

“All of a sudden, she felt frozen. More chilled than before, as though she had been thrust into an ice house and left on her own. She concentrated on taking a deep breath, but it felt as though she could only draw quick, hurried breaths. "Isabella, today I will take my tea differently than usual," Nicholas spoke in an entirely casual tone, but she knew he had somehow realized what was going through her mind and was taking pity on her. "Yes?" she asked, poised to pour out the tea. His mouth quirked up in a smile, so quick she would have missed it if she hadn't been staring at his mouth. A habit she did not wish to break. "Yes, I would like milk and just one teaspoon of sugar." He leaned toward her and kissed her, gently, on the cheek. "You are sweet enough for me," he said, in a tone that was audible to everyone, yet still managed to sound intimate.”

“There were ceramic teapots in aubergine, mustard, and midnight blue (good for one, sweeter still when shared between two drinkers); and forty small, thin glasses with curved handles, set in gold- and silver-plated holders etched with arabesque swirls. Bahar gingerly lined the tea glasses up on the counter where the cappuccino machine had been stationed. She tucked the teapots into the counter's glass-paneled belly, where they sat prettily next to twenty glass containers of loose-leaf teas, ranging from bergamot and hibiscus to oolong.”

“Elena came up with the idea of a fusion elote, taking her beloved Mexican street corn and adding Pakistani and Filipino twists to match with Adeena's and my respective backgrounds. Not only did Jae gave us his mother's recipe for the oksusu cha, or Korean corn tea, but he'd also volunteered to handle all elote duties: slathering the corn with thick, creamy coconut milk before rolling it in a fragrant spice mix that included amchur powder and red chili powder, grilling it, then squeezing calamansi over the corn before sprinkling it with your choice of kesong puti or cotija cheese. It was a simple yet laborious task, but he seemed to enjoy himself ( I wasn't one for gender stereotypes, but what was with guys and grills?) and I'd caught him sneaking more than one smoky, salty treat as he worked. The benefit of being the cook. Meanwhile, I arranged the sweet offerings I'd prepared: mais ube sandwich cookies, mais kon keso bars, and two types of ice candy--- mais kon yelo and ginataang mais. Corn as a dessert ingredient may seem strange to some people, but Filipinos absolutely love and embrace corn in all its salty-sweet possibilities. My first offering sandwiched ube buttercream between corn cookies, the purple yam's subtle vanilla-like sweetness pairing well with the salty-sweet corn. Cheese and corn are a popular savory pairing, but guess what? It makes one of my absolute favorite Filipino ice cream flavors as well, and I channeled that classic combo into a cheesecake bar with a corn cookie crust. Mais kon yelo, literally corn with ice, is a Filipino dessert consisting of shaved ice with corn, sugar, and milk, while ginataang mais, a simple porridge made with coconut milk, glutinous rice, and sweet corn, is usually served warm for breakfast or meryenda. My take on these simple, refreshing snacks utilized those same flavors in a portable, easy-to-eat ice pop bag. However, if you wanted to try the traditional versions, you could just pop down a few booths over to Tita Rosie's Kitchen, the restaurant run by my paternal aunt and grandmother. While my aunt, Tita Rosie, handled the savory side of the menu, offering small cups of corn soup and paper cones full of cornick, or corn nuts flavored with salt and garlic, my grandmother, Lola Flor, reigned over the sweets. The aforementioned mais kon yelo and ginataang mais were the desserts on offer, in addition to maja blanca, a simple corn and coconut pudding. Truly a gluten-free sweet tooth's paradise.”

“Just then, the waiter arrived, wheeling a wooden cart that carried an elaborate silver tray that was resplendent with assorted tea sandwiches of every shape and size, filled with savory fish and chicken salads, smoked salmon, pastel creams and little wisps of sprouts and cress, intermingled with tiny scones, colorful tarts, and petits fours. The waiter placed a bowl of clotted cream on the table, fresh butter, and a bowl of chocolate-covered strawberries.”