Frankly, when I drink the stuff at Chinese restaurants, it just tastes like a lot of brown water.
Tea drinking is a most subtle art.
The best tea leaf, I say to you, must have creases like the ancient boot leather of Tartar horsemen, curl like the gilded neck hair of Gwyneth Paltrow, gleam like the sun kissing Cate Blanchett's arms, and be wet and soft as a freshly bathed dog's nose. First, we begin by rinsing the inside of my favorite 300 year old Yixing teapot encrusted with the tea essence of centuries. This water is discarded, and then more hot water is poured in the pot for brewing, at which point we now cover with pot with a good secure lid. After one minute, the tea is then poured into my best tea cups, decorated with the likeness of a sinuous chilong chasing the flaming pearl, and fashioned by the hand of the famed teacup master Yang Peng-nien. Properly done, the flavor of this most refreshing beverage should then linger on one's tastebuds for a good thirty minutes.