"A Nice Cup of Tea", by George Orwell (1946) [ http://pastebin.com/g3FSzqPv ]

If you look up ‘tea’ in the first cookery book that comes
to hand you will probably find that it is unmentioned; or
at most you will find a few lines of sketchy instructions
which give no ruling on several ofthe most important
points.

This is curious, not only because tea is one of the main
stays of civilization in this country, as well as in
Eire, Australia and New Zealand, but because the best
manner of making it is the subject of violent disputes.

When I look through my own recipe for the perfect cup of
tea, I find no fewer than eleven outstanding points. On
perhaps two of them there would be pretty general
agreement, but at least four others are acutely
controversial. Here are my own eleven rules, every one of
which I regard as golden:

• First of all, one should use Indian or Ceylonese tea.
China tea has virtues which are not to be despised
nowadays — it is economical, and one can drink it without
milk — but there is not much stimulation in it. One does
not feel wiser, braver or more optimistic after drinking
it. Anyone who has used that comforting phrase 'a nice
cup of tea' invariably means Indian tea.

• Secondly, tea should be made in small quantities — that
is, in a teapot. Tea out of an urn is always tasteless,
while army tea, made in a cauldron, tastes of grease and
whitewash. The teapot should be made of china or
earthenware. Silver or Britanniaware teapots produce
inferior tea and enamel pots are worse; though curiously
enough a pewter teapot (a rarity nowadays) is not so bad.

• Thirdly, the pot should be warmed beforehand. This is
better done by placing it on the hob than by the usual
method of swilling it out with hot water.

• Fourthly, the tea should be strong. For a pot holding a
quart, if you are going to fill it nearly to the brim,
six heaped teaspoons would be about right. In a time of
rationing, this is not an idea that can be realized on
every day of the week, but I maintain that one strong cup
of tea is better than twenty weak ones. All true tea
lovers not only like their tea strong, but like it a
little stronger with each year that passes — a fact which
is recognized in the extra ration issued to old-age
pensioners.

• Fifthly, the tea should be put straight into the pot.
No strainers, muslin bags or other devices to imprison
the tea. In some countries teapots are fitted with little
dangling baskets under the spout to catch the stray
leaves, which are supposed to be harmful. Actually one
can swallow tea-leaves in considerable quantities without
ill effect, and if the tea is not loose in the pot it
never infuses properly.

• Sixthly, one should take the teapot to the kettle and
not the other way about. The water should be actually
boiling at the moment of impact, which means that one
should keep it on the flame while one pours. Some people
add that one should only use water that has been freshly
brought to the boil, but I have never noticed that it
makes any difference.

• Seventhly, after making the tea, one should stir it, or
better, give the pot a good shake, afterwards allowing
the leaves to settle.

• Eighthly, one should drink out of a good breakfast cup
— that is, the cylindrical type of cup, not the flat,
shallow type. The breakfast cup holds more, and with the
other kind one's tea is always half cold before one has
well started on it.

• Ninthly, one should pour the cream off the milk before
using it for tea. Milk that is too creamy always gives
tea a sickly taste.

• Tenthly, one should pour tea into the cup first. This
is one of the most controversial points of all; indeed in
every family in Britain there are probably two schools of
thought on the subject. The milk-first school can bring
forward some fairly strong arguments, but I maintain that
my own argument is unanswerable. This is that, by putting
the tea in first and stirring as one pours, one can
exactly regulate the amount of milk whereas one is liable
to put in too much milk if one does it the other way
round.

• Lastly, tea — unless one is drinking it in the Russian
style — should be drunk without sugar. I know very well
that I am in a minority here. But still, how can you call
yourself a true tealover if you destroy the flavour of
your tea by putting sugar in it? It would be equally
reasonable to put in pepper or salt. Tea is meant to be
bitter, just as beer is meant to be bitter. If you
sweeten it, you are no longer tasting the tea, you are
merely tasting the sugar; you could make a very similar
drink by dissolving sugar in plain hot water.

Some people would answer that they don't like tea in
itself, that they only drink it in order to be warmed and
stimulated, and they need sugar to take the taste away.
To those misguided people I would say: Try drinking tea
without sugar for, say, a fortnight and it is very
unlikely that you will ever want to ruin your tea by
sweetening it again.

These are not the only controversial points to arise in
connexion with tea drinking, but they are sufficient to
show how subtilized the whole business has become. There
is also the mysterious social etiquette surrounding the
teapot (why is it considered vulgar to drink out of your
saucer, for instance?) and much might be written about
the subsidiary uses of tealeaves, such as telling
fortunes, predicting the arrival of visitors, feeding
rabbits, healing burns and sweeping the carpet. It is
worth paying attention to such details as warming the pot
and using water that is really boiling, so as to make
quite sure of wringing out of one's ration the twenty
good, strong cups of that two ounces, properly handled,
ought to represent.