The Kettle sings.

It is the anthem... of the afternoon.

But heed this warning.

The water must be fresh.

If you re-boil the water... you kill the oxygen.

And dead water... makes flat tea.

Pour the boiling water into the pot.

Not to brew.

But to wake it up.

Swirl it around.

Warm the china.

A cold pot... shocks the leaf.

And a shocked leaf... will not dance.

Now.

The dilemma.

The Bag... or The Leaf?

The Bag.

The perforated pillow of convenience.

It is efficient.

But it is also... a cage.

It confines the tea.

It creates a brew that is dark, fast, and aggressive.

If you must use a bag... do not squeeze it against the side of the cup!

That is violence.

It releases tannins.

It tastes of bitterness and regret.

But... The Loose Leaf.

This is the choice of the philosopher.

Freedom.

The leaves unfurl.

They swim.

They expand.

One spoon for each guest.

One for the pot.

The "Pot Spoon" is a tax paid to the gods of hospitality.

Pour the water.

Put the lid on.

And wait.

Three minutes.

Let the alchemy happen.

Now.

The Milk.

First... or Last?

Listen closely.

Milk First... was a safety measure for the poor.

To stop cheap clay cups... from cracking under the heat.

But we... are not using cheap clay.

We are using Bone China.

Therefore.

Milk. Last.

Always last.

Pour the tea. Then the milk.

Judge the colour.

We want a rich hazelnut. Not a pale beige.

To put milk first... is to fly blind.

The Strainer.

Place the silver sieve over the cup.

Catch the leaves.

Do not let them fall into the drink.

"Reading the tea leaves" is a parlor game for witches.

We want a clean liquor.

Clear.

Amber.

Perfect.

The Serving.

Do not pour for yourself.

That is the height of narcissism.

Pour for the guest.

Offer the cup.

Handle facing them.

Then... and only then... may you serve yourself.

Servitude is the price of power.

Sip.

Exhale.

Carry on.