Irish Tea, American Girl

My first sip of black tea was taken at an Irish bed and breakfast table. That taste was accompanied by the sweeping view of a 200 year old sheep farm's fields. Its owner welcomed me through the home’s big red front door and ushered me to the dining room where a steaming kettle sat as a centerpiece. Various soda breads and thick Irish cheeses were pushed my way. Milk was poured lightly into my cup. The light swirl turned the darkened water creamy and welcoming. Welcoming — that’s tea in a word.

That morning began my crutch on the dependable creature comfort of tea. I didn’t know it then, but years later, I’d come to live in Ireland. At least one part of its new culture was already my own — its undying tea habit.

And tea is no wine or fermented beverage prone developing other dangerous kinds of habits, although Ireland introduced me to those, too. It’s no indulgence that can cause madness if sipped too much. It’s simply and safely dependable.

That 200 year old farm that first showed me tea’s wonders, ended up being my home — well, its cottage was. My mom and I rented it. Our landlady, Noreen, embodied the definition of welcoming, too. She’d have us over to “the big house” for tea on the regular; never a moment did we feel like outsiders. Each visit always started with a, “Would you like a cup of tea?” and a smile.

“Welcoming” is just the start of tea’s range of traits, though. It unites. It comforts. Signals rest. Physically warms.

A convenient creature comfort, I call it. We all need one of those to fall back on when things fall apart. When all else crumbles, the boil of its waters and milk’s light swirl are dependable rituals that remind us to slow down, rest and take a moment for a sip of warmth.

As magical as my initial experiences in Ireland appear, they certainly weren’t all so welcoming. My first day of high school — secondary school, they call it — was one such down day.

An American Barbie. That’s what I was called. “I thought Americans were fat,” was another particularly vivid statement I’ll always recall. Irish kids accentuating their vowels to mimic my stateside drawl was another common joke. Deeply veined stereotypes like that hit hard for an already culture shocked teen.

Needless to say I didn’t feel like I belonged. Not every classmate behaved that way but, I felt very much “the American girl” for my first year.

Noreen welcomed me off the bus with the usual offer of a cup of tea and homemade scones. Her proposal sounded like a needed escape so, I strolled over to the big house and settled into the sunroom’s warmth. The kettle on the coffee table was already steeping bags. Breakfast tea, of course. Tetley brand. She’d thought ahead.

Ever intuitive, Noreen clocked my first day nerves and changed the subject from school questionings to more comfortable matters.

We talked about life in the cottage and how different Ireland was to America. Then marveled at how my family became her family and hers, mine. One of her many sons got home from his all-boys school and sauntered into the sunroom. The hot kettle piped and called him to grab a mug of tea for himself, while joining in on our chat.

The invite of a comforting cup of tea beside company made the subject matter of our chats insignificant. It wasn’t the words that mattered, or even the tea itself. What really mattered was the company.

The idea of gathering over some leafy steeping goodness was enough to draw a crowd — enough to connect a crowd, too. When someone offers to make you a cup of tea, it’s not just to give you a drink to consume, it’s an invite to relax and a calling card to socialize.

I quickly realized that the tea itself wasn’t even the thick of it. It’s the mindset that is the crux, as the kettle boils and dry tea bags rest expectantly in cups. It’s the idea of finding comfort, or escape — or being the one to offer it, just as Noreen offered me the comfort of a familiar face and the rich warmth of that tea on a day when I really needed it.

I felt like I belonged again. My cold thoughts of school vaporized like steam rolling off a freshly poured cup. So, yes — tea welcomes, but it also comforts and connects.

It accompanies, too.

Noreen’s kids and I would ride along the bank of the Shannon Estuary, then trailer the horses back to the big house and scan the fields for missing sheep, or trouble makers who’d jump over the farm’s old stone walls.

While counting sheep wouldn’t put me to sleep, it would freeze my fingers. After long, cold days in the saddle, my immediate course of action upon getting inside would be to boil the kettle; holding just-poured tea often sent warmth coursing back through my stiff fingers. So, in that way, tea accompanies.

It did too when I got the call from the states that let me know my dad had passed away. I never got to tell him I loved him one last time, or even say goodbye. Tea accompanied me through that grief, and still continues to.

Through sadness, adventure, joy and loss — tea is brewed to accompany it all.

America is my home again but, my stores of Irish breakfast tea are dependable reminders to slow down and boil a kettle. Memories of peace, quiet and reflection swirl alongside each bag, slowly letting hot water in, while releasing the earthy goodness of its blend. Each sip is a welcome reminder that I took the time to brew it, which means I must have needed to feel some calm in chaos.

I can’t imagine what creature comfort could impact me the way a perfect cuppa does. My mind would be missing the meaning behind those steeping waters. That and the routine beeping of my electric kettle. It’s all a reminder that it’s time to take a rest, or find connection with friends over a steaming mug.

My time with tea from Irish past to stateside present revealed to me that food is about way more than a taste. It accompanies the habits that make us human. Habits formed by our joys, pains and milestones — they’re usually paired with a plate of food or welcome brew. It’s important to recognize those comforts that make each of us feel uniquely human. Each soul needs a dependable crutch to rely on.

Think about it — what makes you feel “warm”?

In my case? All good and bad things come paired with a cuppa Irish breakfast tea.