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There are days—-most of you have been having them lately, too—-when refinement and subtlety and tenderly monitored steep times just don’t matter. And you get so tired and chilled that the first warm liquid hitting your dry throat and empty stomach is liquid ambrosia, brand notwithstanding.

One little bag of Red Rose did that on a beastly cold afternoon with office doors swinging open while they moved equipment in and out. I wouldn’t have preferred any other tea in the world at that moment.