I’m chasing a dragon. It’s a fiery, smoky beast. Strong. Sensitive. And it caught me by surprise.
I saw a waiter with a Chinese tea in his hand, after walking through the streets near SoHo in the rain. I’d stopped in a place called Fortnum & Mason, and browsed the menu in vain.
This was 2019, before all the Covid malarkey. Before a dividing line in my memory, in the collective memory. That is to say, I have no idea what I was doing in the Fortnum & Mason Diamond Jubilee Tea Salon, where I absolutely could not have afforded anything.
But this would be the inciting incident of a half-decade of obsessive lapsang souchong tasting. My only memory is reading the wee description and thinking I like smokey things then it’s all a blur.
Nowadays, I huddle over brewing pots, snuffling in the fumes as the leaves steep. I scour menus, looking for a lapsang I haven’t tried before. I vainly go back to the same old dealers, and order the same plastic baggies of Chinese black in the hopes it’ll be different this time.
But it never is. Nothing will compare to that first hit of F&M LS. It’s all been stepped on or substituted in a way that I have absolutely no evidence for or willingness to prove. All I know is my shaking hands need something stronger, something better.
So yeah, I’ve spilled a lot of ink in this review talking about a totally different brand of tea. This Teasme stuff? I dunno, it’s alright.
