For someone who doesn’t much do honey in tea, this nook in my cherry wood tea chest is emptying out fast! It’s gentle, nicely balanced, a no-brain steeper. Not nearly as syrupy cloying as the Ludens cough drops we’d eat full boxes of during the sermon on Sundays, but brings back that sensory memory.

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Somebody asked me once when I became a tea junkie; I think it dates back to college when I needed caffeine for a 7 a.m. class but chose not to do coffee. My favorite teapot is a medium-sized Brown Betty given to me by my Mema; the painted flowers are chipping off, but the size and feel is perfect. I rejoice when I get a morning to brew a pot of loose tea starting with a kettle; not a bag and a hot pot.


Southwest Missouri

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