I forced myself to drink iced tea at a Texas barbecue in 1986, recognizing that my maternal British heritage had to find personal expression if even in the most abject of forms. Luckily, that iced tea was unsweet.
Since 2002, I’ve been trying to sensitize my American taste buds to the complexity and subtlety of a properly brewed cup of tea. At the same time, I’ve been trying to wrap my mind around the expanse and enormity of the industry.
Though I still self-identify as an uncultured clod, I aspire to the alternative. My heart aches that Snapple associates itself with tea. I steer away from anyone who offers me anything steeped with berries, spices and herbs. Always, always, always…unsweet.