They say simple things please simple minds and, well, this is a pretty simple thing.
Certainly a small and inconsequential thing.
But one that can bring pleasure on a daily basis: and at work too, invading the daily
grind delightfully.
As with most excitement at work this revolves around tea.
Whittards, I think it is, advise putting the milk into your cup before the tea because
the two will mix (or maybe it’s “fuse”) more easily in this order. (This can be seen
quite easily with the naked eye, actually).
However that way round misses out on a little bit of fun because, with a steady hand
and a little milk, beautiful clouds can be made.
If you get it right the milk will disappear without trace before reappearing as a
writhing mass of milky storm that rises and falls as it spreads out and consumes the
previously dark liquid.
An unsteady hand and a lot of milk still gives a nice effect but is clearly one gone
wrong: an almost complete whitewash sitting under a thin layer of black tea.
The best effect I’ve seen, though, was with a wide rimmed teacup in Birmingham.
I poured the milk into the centre of the cup and saw it return in several equally
spaced ‘jets’ around the edge like a fountain working in reverse (and encased within
another liquid).
Whatever the result, I always feel it a shame to dip in a teaspoon and bring these
little miracles to an end.
Certainly a small and inconsequential thing.
But one that can bring pleasure on a daily basis: and at work too, invading the daily
grind delightfully.
As with most excitement at work this revolves around tea.
Whittards, I think it is, advise putting the milk into your cup before the tea because
the two will mix (or maybe it’s “fuse”) more easily in this order. (This can be seen
quite easily with the naked eye, actually).
However that way round misses out on a little bit of fun because, with a steady hand
and a little milk, beautiful clouds can be made.
If you get it right the milk will disappear without trace before reappearing as a
writhing mass of milky storm that rises and falls as it spreads out and consumes the
previously dark liquid.
An unsteady hand and a lot of milk still gives a nice effect but is clearly one gone
wrong: an almost complete whitewash sitting under a thin layer of black tea.
The best effect I’ve seen, though, was with a wide rimmed teacup in Birmingham.
I poured the milk into the centre of the cup and saw it return in several equally
spaced ‘jets’ around the edge like a fountain working in reverse (and encased within
another liquid).
Whatever the result, I always feel it a shame to dip in a teaspoon and bring these
little miracles to an end.
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