by Stephen Thompson

Choosing the herbs that you want starts with your personal preferences, but to get you started, here are some of the best herbs for teas. They are also the most widely used herbs for teas, and many of them pair well with one or another, or are packed with flavor that can be combined with whatever herbal tea you want to drink for health. Chamomile and Lemon Balm are the two most common herbs grown for tea, and both can be added to any light or bitter herbal tea combinations to give them a bright flavor. Coriander and Fennel are grown for the interesting flavor that their leaves give otherwise dull tea combinations. Bee Balm and Betony are added for their milder flavor notes. Catnip and Mint can be added individually or in combination to give tea a strong herbal mint flavor.

Another interesting herb to grow for tea include leaves, which are hard to find for tea because they are so often sprayed with a lot of pesticides. Roses are considered herb plants and a couple low growing bushes, or climbing vines placed in the back of the garden are enough to provide you with enough rose hips that can be gathered and dried.

Gathering and Use

The benefit of growing your own herbal tea ingredients is being able to use fresh herbs for the teas, but you can gather the herbs a couple times throughout the season and dry them to use as needed. Wait till plants have budded and then collect leaves and flowers. If drying, lay them out flat on a clean counter or shelf where they can remain undisturbed for a few days. Every once in a while, turn stems and leaves over to make sure that they are being air dried completely. Store in a sealed bag or container and combine with other herbal tea ingredients as you go. By drying as many of the herbs as you can from your garden, you can create dozens of flavor combinations all summer and winter long.

A tea story

by Stephen Thompson

Beth was scratching around in the dusty corner of the Chinese junk shop. She loved these places — you never knew what you might find.

She had once found an incense that made her fern go red in a similar shop. That was a surprise. One day it was standing on the sideboard with its translucent green leaves drooping over the pot, the next day it had turned an iridescent red.

It took her a couple of days sitting on the porch, drinking innumerable cups of tea, to work out that it had to be the incense. Sure enough, two days after she stopped burning the incense, the plant resumed its green colour.

‘Such a pity,’ she thought. She missed the sweet jasmine and orange smell, no matter how odd a combination that sounded. It had certainly cleared up her sinuses, as the old Chinese had promised. So, once a month, she took the fern to the porch and lit some incense in the lounge again.

She was, however, hoping to find something more conventional this time, like a jade ornament, or some painting. You really never knew when you might hit paydirt.

So far, dirt was mostly what she had found, still she remained optimistic. Then, in an undistinguished greyish box under a dirty gause tablecloth, she found some delicate rose patterned tea cups and matching saucers. Only two were still intact, but they looked so delicately exquisite, that she put them to one side. There were two other bundles in the box, which felt as if they could hold cloths. She nearly tossed them back into the box, but curiosity got the better of her and she opened one.

The bag contained two nylon or perhaps even silk bags with the picture of a dragon crying over a bush painted on them. The other bag proved to contain the same bags. Other than the dragon and the bush, there was nothing to suggest what the bags might contain. She took one of the bags to the wizened Chinese who sat at the counter in the front of the shop, reading some Chinese newspaper.

'Pardon me, could you tell me what it says on this bag?' She asked, holding out the bag to him.

Reluctantly, he put down the paper and took the bag from her. He looked at the bag for a while, even turning it around in his hands. Finally, just before she burst from annoyance, he pronounced: 'Chinese Tea. Writing say tears of the dragon. Not for weak person. Drink only in day.'

He looked at her, as if judging the impact of his words.

'Is that all?’ she asked.

He looked at the bag again, 'Put two leaves in pot warm not hot water wait for smell. You want buy this?' he asked, almost disinterestedly.

'Wait, let me get something else,' she said, moving to the back of the shop. She carefully picked up the delicate cups and saucers, and then on impulse, took the other bag of tea.

'These are what I want,' she said, putting the cups and saucers gently onto the counter. 'Its a pity they’re not a set, but I suppose two will be enough. What do you want for them?'

Then followed a haggling session, although she could see that his heart wasn’t in it. It was obvious that he would rather go

back to his newspaper. Minutes later she was on her way out of the shop, with the carefully wrapped cups, the saucers, and the packets of tea, thrown in gratis, as a consolation prize to get rid of her.

When she got home, she decided the cups were exceptional enough to grace her display cabinet, so she arranged them there. The tea she threw in an empty tea tin that was standing around in the pantry, and promptly forgot about it.

A couple of months later, she was waiting for her agent to come around to discuss changes to the manuscript of her new book.

'This will be a drag', she thought. 'She'll insist I cut out that scene down at the beach cottage. I can't cut that out, it’s central to exposing the flaws in Ralph's character. Tarnation,’ she decided. ‘I need some jasmine tea.'

Ah, but there wasn’t any jasmine tea. Or any rose hips tea either. She had forgotten to check before her last shopping excursion. All that remained was the forgotten tea from the Chinese shop.

'Well, if it kills me, at least I won't have to endure her haggling,’ she said, taking out one packet.

The packet opened to provide another surprise. It contained several smaller packets made of something like cellophane. Each mini packet contained 6 tea leaves. They were recognisable as tea leaves, although they were almost black in colour. She sniffed, but could discern no odour.

She carried the package to the kitchen and put it on the table, whilst putting the electric kettle on to boil. When the water boiled, she half filled the teapot, remembering in time to add some cold water so that the water would not be boiling, as the packets instructions had specified. She dropped two leaves in, thinking to herself that this would probably be as weak as piss. Then she stood and waited, watching the teapot with impatience.

After some minutes, she became aware of a hint of jasmine on the air. Only it wasn't really jasmine. It was rose, no lime, no bergamot ... 'Oh bugger it.’ She couldn't decide what she was smelling. ‘It had to be the tea,' she decided.

The tea it was, but she was no better at recognising the smell, so she poured a smidgen into a cup and took a delicate sip. 'Well! I never!' she exclaimed. 'It's got no right to taste like this!'

Then she scooped up the teapot and put it and a cup on a tray and marched out to the veranda. The tea still smelled of rose and jasmine and whatever, but it tasted like chocolate and cream and hazelnuts. 'How can this be?' she thought. 'Things ought to taste like they smell. ‘They always have, as far as I can remember,’ she mused, taking another sip. The tea, however, refused to conform. 'Well, it's not as if it's bad,' she decided, 'pleasant but puzzling.'

Her agent was equally puzzled. It had always been a piece of old takkie to push Beth into changing her story to the way Erica knew it should be. Not today though. Her best arguments had been examined and dismissed.

"The beach house scene."

She'd been so convinced that nothing should spoil Ralph's godlike image. He was the central character, after all. Beth