Chamomile?
Green?
The sleepy bear night night tea my grandmother used to make me?
No, none of the sort. Today if you join me in raising a cup with your pinky out, we will enjoy the soft aroma of Chinese Brick Tea. This variety doesn’t come loose so I have to boil a big pot anyway, so I hope you’ll join me for a sip of this rare herbal treat. Of course, the celebration isn’t just about tea fellow kossacks. This is about what this tea represents.
Before telecom immunity, thumbs up for torture and the Patriot Act was ever drafted over Mojitos at Bohemian Grove, there was a different brand of injustice going on. Imagine in 1764 paying your everyday price of a few coins a cup for your delectable steaming herbal tea. After you leave the general store you head over to the post office and leave with a few stamps to write that letter to your sweetie across the pond. Life doesn’t get any better than this, right?
Fast forward to 1768 and all hell has broken loose? Prices for tea has forced you to boil hot, herbless water only left with the faint memory of tea leaves for taste. You haven’t written your loved one in months because the price of stamps are out of this world! What has happened to my colonial America?! Something must be done!
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