bog tea

Our normal morning routine is pretty lackluster: wake up, take the dog for a walk, and get working. But we do happen to live in San Francisco, which means that even on a ho-hum morning, you may happen upon a view that makes it feel as if the world has just been remade and cracked open, all for you.

So one recent morning when there was a bright, blue-sky break from the rain, we made some tea and hauled it up our local hill. And now, we have a special name for this tea: bog tea.

This happened accidentally. We couldn’t find the top to our thermos, so we poured the tea into this swing top bottle. We brought mugs, a little jar of sugar, and toasted marmalade sandwiches.

We all know that things taste better outside. Now, I also think that things taste better when they have been carried in glass. Maybe this is just sentimental, but as we sat atop our craggy local peak, Mike told me about his Mom, who grew up in Sligo in Ireland. There was a bog at the end of their country road, and during the time of year when everyone would pitch in to cut and stack their turf for the year, Mike’s mom would bring tea out in an old whiskey bottle, already milked and sugared, for the regular tea breaks.

So in honor of St Paddy’s Day, I suggest that you brew some good, strong Irish tea, carry it outside, and drink in the world.