Just my cup of tea
I think I’m calling off the search for my perfect mint tea. Since sometime last fall, around about the time I had my last meal at a certain Moroccan place in a market in Paris, I’ve been searching for the perfect blend that will somehow live up to my memory. Hot, sweet and brimming full of minty goodness, that tea keeps bouncing around in my head.
And in the last few months, I’ve gathered up quite a collection of Moroccan mint teas. There are a couple of varieties I brought back from Paris, a North African variation that Tina found for me, a few blends that I found in grocery stores stateside, as well as the surprise gift from a friend. They are all delicious and the ongoing sampling of these teas has brought me right into a new appreciation for tea.
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And as for my favorite mint tea so far, I don’t have one. I like them all. I think my memories of those steaming hot glasses of tea that I held tightly while trying to stay dry and warm in the midst of a flash rain storm will always taste best. And I think I’m OK with that.
mint, Moroccan mint tea, Paris, ritual, tea