(IMAGE: Taking tea outside is a true joy. Taking tea on a boat is a new challenge!)
Dear beloved blog readers,
Over this past Labor Day weekend, I and a few of my close friends were invited to set sail upon the wonderful waters surrounding New York City (technically Brooklyn). Being a tea person, I took this as an opportunity to bring tea along with me and treat my friends and the boat’s captain to tea. The challenge here would be how to pack for the tea outing, especially given the nature of being on a boat. The answer would test my gong fu cha skills. In today’s post, I offer my approach to this, as well as tips to those looking to take tea outside!
Keep it simple
Making tea is always a matter of pairing-down life to its most basic. The tea, the water, the vessel; little more is needed to produce remarkable results. Even in the confines of one’s home, office, or elsewhere, the “luxury” of tea really is less about living luxuriously and more about just finding the means to re-connect with a more straightforward way of living, thinking, and doing. As the 20th century Zen Buddhist teacher Shunryu Suzuki said, meditation and even enlightenment was “nothing special” in that it was already apparent to us in the acts of everyday life.
This “less is more” mentality is especially important in making tea outside. Packing just a small collection of teas with an all-purpose vessel works wonders. In the case of the boat outing, I packed a glass gaiwan (which I rarely use, but seem to love more when used in situations like these) and a few single-servings of stellar teas (an aged Fuding baicha, a collection of various oolongs, and two tuo cha (沱茶): a sheng pu-erh from Yiwu and a 1985 sheng from Menghai). Additionally, I made sure to pack enough small cups for everyone.
(IMAGE: Keeping it simple: A glass gaiwan is well-suited to brew every tea type.)
Hot water is life
Being an avid outdoor tea drinker (as well as a seasoned backpacker), I am well aware of how much water is the “limiting factor” to the tea equation. Throughout the history of tea, locating and boiling water has always been the starting point to making great tea. Nowhere is this more true than in the first known monograph on tea, Lu Yu’s Cha Jing (茶經, The Classic of Tea), where much of his writing is dedicated to outlining various grades of water, how to boil water, and how to store water. Later tea scholars would continue to develop upon this subject given the importance water plays in making tea.
In regards to my own solution, I’ve chosen to use filtered water and bring it along through the employment of a rather ingenious (and lucky find) of a vintage twin thermos picnic set. In total, the thermoses pack 2 quarts, which is a perfect amount for several tea brewing sessions.
(IMAGE: Two vintage Stanley thermoses, perfect for tea.)
Making a set
Creating tea sets is a bit like jazz: putting together the necessary components is a matter of improvisation, in how it plays with the key players (in this case, to the tea, tea vessel, water containers, and tea cups), to the audience, and to the environment its presented. To make a truly great tea set, it should speak to the moment, to form following function, and to the notion most treasured by 16th century tea master Sen no Rikyu of ichi-go ichi-e (一期一会, “one time, one meeting”). In this regard, the tea set should reflect the situation and the intent on making the best out of just a little.
In the case of the tea set that I assembled for the sailing trip, I was again lucky with the vintage thermos set. As an original 1970s Stanley thermos picnic set, not only did it come with two thermoses, but also a leather carrying case and tin “lunch box”. As a re-purposed tea set, this “lunch box” worked perfectly: its construction was compact and sturdy, and the lid had the added benefit of doubling as a tea tray during brewing and serving. The lip of the lid would also help to keep the gaiwan and teacups from tipping over on a rocky boat.
(IMAGE: A top-down view of tea brewing in action. Note the lid of the thermos picnic set’s “lunch box” serving as a tea tray.)
Keeping items safe for the journey ahead
Putting everything together, from the gaiwan to the teas to the teacups, was in itself a mindful act. Using Japanese furoshiki and wrapping each fragile item separately ensured they would not have the chance to easily break on the voyage. For the loose teas, I used small containers I had made from emptied matcha canisters (which I had wrapped in washi paper for aesthetic purposes). As for the compressed teas, I kept the Fuding baicha cake and mini pu-erh tuo cha safely nestled amongst the wrapped items.
(IMAGE: Items packed safely inside the tin box with gaiwan and teacups wrapped in furoshiki.)
As our day of sailing winded down, the moment for tea came. Quenching the thirst we had acquired from our arduous task (sailing can be quite a work out!) and pairing nicely with the clams we had dug-up and steamed, the tea worked perfectly to act as a closing to a wonderful day. Just as planned, there was more than enough water and certainly enough tea. There was even enough tea to get “creative”, blending the 1985 Menghai with the fresh Yiwu sheng to produce a beautifully-balanced effect.
(IMAGE: Casual and creative: Brewing a blend of 1985 Menghai and 2015 Yiwu sheng pu-erh. The flavor was balanced and incredibly complex.)
More to come
As I am often going out to enjoy tea, I’m certain that this will be just the beginning of posts focusing on “building tea sets”. Stay tuned for more to come. Until then, I’m curious how you meet the challenge of making tea outside. What sort of sets have you created and how might you bring boiled water? Tea always provides opportunities to hone one’s skills.