The following is a Counterpoint.
By Marilyn Trivett
There’s been a lot of talk in the newspaper lately about tea. Tea bags being sent to the N.C. Department of Revenue and Tax Day tea parties getting attention.
My concerns are a lot simpler. I just want a cup of tea. Sounds pretty basic, but just for fun, ask for hot tea the next time you’re at your favorite restaurant. Coffee drinkers don’t have a clue as to what we tea drinkers must endure.
I first noticed it one cold, rainy night when we were set to enjoy tacos and burritos. “We don’t have hot tea,” I was told.
So, I asked, “Will you take iced tea and 'nuke’ it for me?” It came back in a big plastic tumbler. I had to ask for a cup.
At a well-regarded local cafeteria, the beverage person couldn’t understand and I had to go through pointing and dramatic hand gestures just to get a tea bag into the cup first, before the hot water was poured on. (There is a proper way to brew tea.)
A refill required a second tea bag. Soon, I discovered I was being charged for a second beverage because I asked for another tea bag. Unbelievable, an outright discrimination. Aren’t cafeterias known for their refills?
There are local restaurants that know how to do this tea thing in a magnificent and proper manner. You will get a tea pot and a wonderful assortment of teas with all the refills you want.
Problem is, there is such inconsistency you can never be sure that your request for hot tea won’t end in disappointment. Recently, I told a wonderful and accommodating young waiter in a
South Elm Street establishment to inform his manager that it was a shame they could brew beer but couldn’t brew a cup of tea.
I’ve had my say. Thank you for your patience. I know I represent a minority, but like the short, stout little teapot, it felt good to let off some steam.
Now, my solution: Rather than annoy these fine people by asking for something they can’t give and have no interest in providing, I will keep my tempest in my own personal little teapot. When they ask, “What can I get you to drink?” I will smile sweetly, pull out my tea bags, my teapot and say, “Boiling water, please.”
The writer lives in Greensboro.