By mid-afternoon, something very specific happens.

The mind begins to dull and grow sleepy.
The body wants a little lift, usually with a snack.
The spirit glances at the clock in the office and thinks, Surely it’s snack/tea time somewhere.

And that is precisely when three co-workers,  Black Tea, Jasmine, and Bergamot found themselves in the same office kitchen, each looking for a quick pick-me-up.

Black Tea arrived first, of course. He's dependable, capable and slightly overworked. Entering the break room, he loosened his tie, rolled up his sleeves, cracked his neck left and right and said, “Right then. Let’s find something to get through the rest of the day.”

Jasmine floated into the room next, almost unnoticed at first. She didn’t need caffeine—she was longing for something to center her instead. She leaned against the counter, breathing in, reminding everyone that not everything needed to be done urgently to be done well.

Next, Bergamot burst through the door next, bright-eyed ...

Today’s tea arrived softly, like a sweet memory from long ago.

I chose Jasmine Green Tea, and as the description on the box reminded me, jasmine is not a daytime flower. Jasmine blooms at night. She opens up after the sun has set, releasing her fragrance into the dark after the external world grows quiet and all of our senses become more open and receptive.

Traditionally, jasmine flowers are picked at night, precisely when their scent is at its most potent. Later, those blossoms are layered again and again with green tea leaves, allowing the tea to slowly absorb jasmine’s perfume. It’s a patient process. A devotional one. The tea is not sprayed —it is all about divine timing, it can not be pushed or rushed.

That alone tells you everything you need to know about jasmine’s energy.

This tea carries the wisdom of ancient rituals rooted in China, where jasmine tea has been cherished for centuries not just for its flavor, but for its ability to calm the mind, open the heart, and refi...

 This morning, I enjoyed what the British refer to as a Full English Breakfast—and let me assure you, when the word full is involved, it is not to be taken lightly.

A proper Full English is not merely a meal. It is a declaration and a culinary assurance that one shall face the day fortified, steady, and entirely unflappable.

And of course, presiding over this noble affair was a perfectly brewed cup of English Breakfast tea—bold, brisk, and unwaveringly reliable, from Twinings.

Traditionally, a Full English breakfast is an ensemble cast:

Eggs, cooked with intention.
Toast, unapologetically present.
Bacon or sausage, depending on one’s household and moral philosophy.
And sometimes mushrooms or tomatoes, included to maintain balance and a sense of virtue.

It is a breakfast designed not for haste, but for fortitude. One does not rush a Full English. One sits with it and reflects upon the day ahead, while nodding approvingly at the tea.

English Breakfast Tea is the cornerstone of thi...

Dear Gentle Reader, yes, you caught me. There are two tea stories today. Yesterday had its way with me, picking me up and saying time is going out the window today and you will do as we please. So I was unable to send the Christmas tea article off until this morning. I hope you enjoyed it all the same. And now, I'm going to have my fun with 'Time" and write a story for it today...

Today’s tea unfolded less like a beverage… and more like a story.

Because as I sipped my cup of Chai tea with cinnamon, something became abundantly clear to me: these are not ordinary spices.

Chai and Cinnamon are astral time travelers.

Stay with me. haha

Chai is the seasoned one — ancient, layered, worldly. He has walked through empires, caravans, temples, and kitchens across centuries. He knows stories. He has opinions. He carries cardamom wisdom in his pockets and understands the long arc of human ritual.

Cinnamon, on the other hand, is fiery, bold, mischievous, and always slightly ahead of the cur...

A Cup Filled With Ancestral Winter Magic

Today’s tea came with a built-in soundtrack. The moment I opened the packet—“Christmas Tree” from Whittard—I could practically hear a German choir humming in the background.

The blend is a festive trio of citrus, clove, and vanilla, and from the very first inhale, it felt like stepping into the heart of an old-world Christmas market—warm, spiced, fragrant, glowing with traditions older than the ornaments on our modern trees.

And that’s fitting, because Germany is the birthplace of the Christmas tree tradition as we know it today. Long before twinkling lights and shiny baubles, evergreen trees were brought indoors as symbols of life in the dead of winter—reminders that even during the darkest months, the spirit remains evergreen.

So sipping this tea today felt beautifully ancestral… as if I’d been invited into a candlelit wood cottage somewhere in the Black Forest, with snow falling softly outside and a warm mug placed into my hands by...

Today’s tea transported me farther than any cup has so far.

I opened the packet and instantly felt the whisper of another world — Marrakech Mint Green Tea, fragrant with a Moroccan blend of bright mint and earthy green tea. One inhale and I wasn’t in my kitchen anymore. I was in a sun-warmed courtyard in Marrakech, tile mosaics glittering, the air fragrant with mint, citrus, spices, and that timeless hum of a city that has lived a thousand lives. All this and I hadn't even made the tea yet, I was still just sniffing the bag!

This tea has allure — the kind that makes you pause and inhale again just to be sure you didn’t imagine it. It wound its away around me, whispering to me that I should redecorate my home in blues, purples, golds and green jewel tones, with luxurious carpets, while wearing silks... I found myself looking at my dishes, wondering if I could break them into small pieces to make into some type of mosaic art.  Dear Reader, I had entered into the experience fully and ...

Today’s tea journey took a swift turn and led me straight into uncharted waters—quite literally.

My tea of the day was simply labeled “Rooibos.” There was no description. No poetic promises of flavor or origin. No charming little backstory about ancient traditions or hand-picked leaves from a far-off hillside.

Just… rooibos.

And I realized, I had never actually tried rooibos before. I had never even heard of rooibos before and had no idea what type of plant it was. 

So Dear Reader, there I was in my kitchen, holding this mysterious tea bag like an unopened treasure map, thinking: “Well then. Today we leap.”

After brewing the tea, I timidly held the cup up to take a sniff, before stepping boldly into what I now call my tea-based adventuring phase of life — or, for short, TBA, which makes it sound very official.

On my new exploratory journey, as a tea-totaling sommelier in training, (TTST) in the school of (TBA), the first thing I noticed was that from the moment it began steep...

Today feels like the first "real" Monday of the year. Yes, most of us returned back to work last Monday, but were we really there? As in present, awake, on task, ready to take on the world? My answer for many of us is, I don't think so, lol. We might have been present in body, but not entirely yet in mind and spirit.

So today feels like the OG Monday of the year. I awoke with all of these thoughts and feelings this morning and knew whatever tea I chose would need to be a cup of pure, unhurried gentleness.

Tuning in to see what that selection should be, I intuitively chose Bigelow Cozy Chamomile, and from the moment the tea bag hit the water, I felt my entire system say, “Oh… yes. This. Exactly this.”

Many people would go the opposite route. Hitting Monday hard with the strongest coffee they could find and pounding it hard to get their blood racing and their physical selves going. Gentle reader, I've found that this approach doesn't work for me energetically or physically for my ...

There is something deeply satisfying about drinking English Breakfast tea on a Sunday morning — especially when you decide, without hesitation, that today you shall be a proper British lady.

My cup brewed with ceremony: steaming hot water, a lovely steep, a gentle swirl… and—because life is generous—a fresh blueberry muffin sitting cheerfully beside me as today’s scone substitute.

Is it traditional?
No. My muffin is not on proper china and the tea cup itself is not a traditional size.
Is it delicious?
Absolutely and an easy pease clean up.

And if anyone asks, it’s a “rustic country scone,” thank you very much.

This morning felt like stepping into a gentler timeline where I leisurely read the paper (or rather, scrolled on my phone with great dignity), and where I might have said things like, “Shall we take tea in the drawing room?” while fully aware I do not have a drawing room.

But that is the charm of English Breakfast — it invites a bit of fantasy, a bit of dignity, a bit of r...

Today’s tea experience was the first one where I thought, great tea but I'm meeting him at the wrong time.

I chose Twinings Peach & Orange, a blend filled with white hibiscus, rosehips, roasted chicory root, and baobab.

Peach, in particular, brings a very specific emotional energy. It's soft, playful, and comforting, but also carries a quiet promise of sweetness and hope. Peach doesn’t demand attention or push. Peach lifts your chin gently and like a sweet southern gentlemen, says: “Darling, life can be sweet again.”

Peach always knows what to say and his presence brings ease, softness, and a sense of uncomplicated fun.

Peach energy invites optimism, a sense that “things will work out ", along with the feeling of warm sunlight on your skin, It reminds me of my younger years and all the fun times I had. 

Peach is emotional nectar. And dear reader, doesn't he sound absolutely amazing?

The thing is, I think this tea is meant to be savored in the summer time and perhaps best serv...