Often, small books like this aren’t really worth reviewing. At least not in terms of their informational merit and use as reference material.
I picked up this slim volume alongside a couple other vintage books on Japanese tea at a used bookstore sometime last year. I was drawn in by the simple, aged cover and the green and yellow artwork decorating every couple of pages (credited to Shiba Sumitani). It makes for a handsome little volume on my shelf.
It’s been a busy couple of weeks. I attended a friend’s chamei chakai, followed back to back by three Tea Festivals—Tea Gorgeous Equinox, the Northwest Tea Festival, and the Victoria Tea Festival Revival.
Normally, I have the Social Energy for exactly one festival a year, and this’ definitely taken it’s toll on me. I’m pretty content to spend the next couple of weekends recouping in isolation; it’s officially Cozy Sweater and Books weather. Continue reading
I don’t normally have to include the full subtitle of a book, but as I’ve got two books, by different authors, both titled ‘Green Gold’ (and I fully intend to read and review them both), I needed to differentiate.
I’ve been slowly working my way up to this book; I mentally categorize it in the trifecta of historical China tea-industry books, alongside Gardella’s Harvesting Mountains (1757-1937) and Smith’s Taxing Heaven’s Storehouse (1074-1224). This’ by far the shortest–about 250 pages–so of course I decided to hit it last. As the title suggests, it follows China’s tea production under the People’s Republic, up until roughly present day (the book was published in 1993). Continue reading
This book deals with a very specific topic, that of teahouse culture in Chengdu, Sichuan from the 1900s to 1950, so it’s unlikely to appeal to a broader tea enthusiast. But that’s never stopped me. This book touches on culture, politics, women’s rights, class relations, and the public perception of teahouse workers and teahouse goers. It’s dense with information, but very easy to read.
There’s a sequel dealing with Chengdu from the dawn of the People’s Republic to present day, and you can bet I’ll by laying hands on that in the future. There’s a couple other books I plan to read in the meantime, though. Continue reading
Koehler’s descriptions paint a very visual narrative; having read several more technical, dry manufacturing guides on Sri Lankan and Indian tea processing, this is a welcome change. In his Acknowledgements at the back of the book, Koehler talks about the research he did for this book, and how although he consulted many records and books, the majority of what he documented came from staying at the gardens, talking to planters and pickers and meeting interesting characters to learn Darjeeling’s story. Continue reading
So, unfortunately the Vancouver Tea Festival was cancelled in 2022, and didn’t resurface for 2023 either. It hasn’t had a proper event since 2020, but I’ve heard rumblings that there are new parties interested in planning for it, so hopefully we’ll see that comeback this year.
That said, 2023 was the year I vowed to get things together so I could do some proper travelling… My passport being the key item. Not having the Vancouver Tea Festival did kick me into making the trek onto a ferry to attend the Victoria Tea Festival. We’ll see how things expand this year.
Unsurprisingly, I picked this book out at the library for its blending section. I like reading first-hand, antiqued accounts of what goes into blends, and many of these works include sample recipes with the logic behind them. It puts a lot of stuff into context. Learning about old tea preferences, old blending nomenclature. I also come across a lot of defunct tea names.
These I’ve started keeping a log of (oonfa, oopack) to try and puzzle out what they’re referring to. Mbanu’s notes on teaforum.org help greatly; he’s done basically 100% of the legwork.
Having had this book sitting on my shelf for quite a while now, I kept passing it over for newer, more exciting acquisitions. I finally pulled it out to finish over a short busride.
Sen Soshitsu XV, the Fifth Grandmaster of the Urasenke School, wrote this account back in the 1970s. It sat comfortably beside Okakura Kakuzo’s The Book of Tea on my shelf, and I think picking up one is a good enough excuse to pick up the other. Neither are long reads. They’re not similar in content necessarily, but both are introspective looks on culture and East meets West. Continue reading
This book has been on my list for a while, especially as Besky has another work out (“The Darjeeling Distinction”); but it wasn’t something I was going out of my way to track down. The synopsis given for this book was unclear, and that prevented me from picking it up sooner. When I did, it was because I spotted it on the shelf at a secondhand bookshop. Which is usually where I scoop most of my purchases.
I definitely underestimated it, and this book ended up pretty heavily tabbed when I was done with it. I think it’s a solid read, something I’m happy to keep on my shelf.
I’ll usually swing back around to this blog with a pretty dire opinion of my activity, but if I can manage four posts a year (in both 2021 and 2020!), then I’m pretty happy with myself. (Even if I did read months back)
Of the 2021 releases I talked about previously, this’ the only one I’ve gotten around to reading so far. This was the book I was most interested in (so the only one I put on pre-order–it was my birthday present to myself, but with turbulent pandemic delays, it didn’t actually get to me until the end of November), and I don’t think there’s really any other books out there that cover this specific topic to this extent and dedication.
Green with Milk & Sugar is about the growth and decline of Japanese tea in America, interweaving the cultural climates of America, Britain, China and Japan from the 1800s all the way up to the 1940s. It follows how these relationships and ideals shaped America’s tea tastes over the years, made them distinct from Britain’s, and how those tastes eventually declined during the twilight years of WWII.
