When someone needs a cuppa and they don’t have the capacity to make a decision about the type of tea, this is what I make them. When I want my morning brew, and I can’t remember which fancy tea I’m allowed to finish and which is being saved for a nebulous impending “special occasion”, this is what I make myself.
The taste is fine, the cost is fine. It’s acceptable to my mother who exclusively drinks supermarket English Breakfast.
By far the best thing going for Dilmah black teas is they are available, in loose leaf form, in every supermarket in the country. No brain power is required. When we’re out of gumboot, it goes in the trolley.
When the Tea Signal fires up, illuminating the clouds with the outline of an old coffee mug with a teabag string tied around the handle, this is the tea that answers. It might not be the tea we want, but it’s the tea we have right now, and it’s probably the tea we deserve.
