What Kind of Tea Do You Drink Most? And What Would You Like to Learn About Tea? — Reader Survey

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A representative sample of my tea stash. Drinking at this moment: Jasmine pearl green tea.

Ever since I was a little girl, sipping on Pelican Punch with milk and honey, I’ve been a tea-drinker. I consume plenty of coffee and other hot beverages too, but tea is my comfort drink, and I have quite a stash. What you see above is a fraction of the whole (I’ve recently instituted a strict one-in, one-out policy for my tea collection). What about you? What kind of tea do you drink, or are you an equal opportunist?

Also, we’re going to be writing about tea more frequently this year at The Kitchn — is there anything in particular you’d like to learn or talk about?

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fennel and blood orange salad

blood orange fennel salad with mint, hazelnuts

This salad improves winter morale. It’s for times when all of the usual charms of winter — snow that’s fallen like a cashmere blanket over the city overnight, reducing all of the usual ruckuses (trucks, sirens, deliveries and your own child’s tantrums, which you may or may not have discovered last week you could hear from a full city block away) to the decibel of thick socks padding over hardwood floors — have waned on you; when the “snow” is, in fact, two inches of gray muck, when you are convinced that it will never be warm again and when you fear the next hunt around the apartment for where the snow mittens/hats/scarves/boots were last scattered will be the end of you. Whereas most cold winter comfort foods are soft, rich, carby and white, this is everything but: brightly hued, crunchy and piercingly fresh. It cuts across everything that’s lost its charm; it will be even brighter in your social media feed than the photos of those so-called friends who have abandoned you for sandy shores and island blue skies. This salad has your back.

what you'll need
ribbons of fennel

It falls into the all too thin category of Great Winter Salads. Kurt Gutenbrunner wrote an article about his favorite ones for the New York Times in 2002 that I go back to every winter when I need a reminder that many of my favorite foods are excellent year round — cabbage, fennel, celery root, cumbers and potatoes. I’m not surprised that this one is clearly still one of his favorites (it’s in his recent cookbook and we even spied it on the menu at Blaue Gans on Saturday night) because it’s perfectly balanced. The refreshing fennel is dressed with lemon for brightness, then tossed with blood orange segments (though I think any orange or grapefruit segment would work), toasted hazelnuts (though he calls for walnuts) and mint leaves. The dressing is just the juice from the blood oranges and olive oil and it’s all so pretty, it’s nothing short of a sun lamp beaming forth from a salad bowl.

thiny sliced fennel, dressed with lemon

… Read the rest of fennel and blood orange salad on smittenkitchen.com


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White Russians and The Big Lebowski — The Celluloid Pantry

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A rich and satisfying after-dinner drink blended from vodka, coffee liqueur, and light cream, the White Russian could almost be said to have it all. A one-stop source of alcohol, sugar, caffeine, and milk fat, the only legal substance it lacks is nicotine.

The Coen brothers’ cult comedy classic, The Big Lebowski (1998), is a trippy, California-noir, loosely inspired by The Big Sleep (1946). But here, in the place of a hard-boiled, hard-drinking detective, we find the bowling-obsessed, bathrobe-wearing slacker, Jeffrey “the Dude” Lebowski (Jeff Bridges), who slurps down White Russians instead of rye.

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On Letting It Go — Weekend Meditation

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We’ve all know and understand that we’re not supposed to cry over spilled milk and yet sometimes we do because sometimes spilled milk sucks, or it’s the last straw in a series of challenges and difficulties that day. Or because we really wanted that milk and now it’s gone. It’s easy to say ‘don’t cry, just take a breath and let it go,’ but it’s often much harder to actually do it, especially when we’re so caught up in the situation that it’s too late for deep breaths and mindful pauses.

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