How I Became a Twinings Snob

I’ve been laughed at, teased, and cajoled, but there’s nothing I can do about it and the fact remains:

When it comes to tea, I’m a Twinings snob.

It’s not that I won’t drink tea from other brands. It’s not even that I don’t like tea from other brands. It’s not that I think people who drink tea from other brands are uncultured barbarians. (I’ve met a few uncultured barbarians who habitually drink other brands of tea, but to my knowledge there is no connection between the two.) It’s not that I consider myself some kind of Anglophile and only prefer Twinings for the name. It doesn't even have to do with the fact that its three centuries of history and doing business from the same address in London make it the most steampunk beverage on the market. Honest.

The simple fact is that at an early, formative time in my life, my brain was programmed to prefer Twinings. It’s true. Here’s how it happened.

I was six years old when my paternal grandfather, a long-time Baptist preacher, accepted a teaching position at the Bible College in Nuneaton, England. Suddenly he and my grandmother (whom we all called “Moofy”), both of whom I was used to seeing on a daily basis and even shared a house with at the time, would be living on the other side of the world for nine months out of the year.

For a six-year-old, they might as well have been moving to another galaxy for nine centuries, but Moofy assured me that we would keep in contact and have plenty of adventures together over the summers. She kept her word. During the school year, not a single week went by without a phone call, letter, postcard, or package (my favorite of which contained authentic, live, invisible leprechauns she had caught in her back garden and persuaded to go live with her American grandchildren). And during the summer, we had our adventures.

Moofy and I were both notoriously early risers, up before dawn most days. My mother (who already had two more children younger than me) was only too glad to get some badly-needed extra sleep and let someone else corral her early bird for a while, so Moofy and I most always had the earliest hours to ourselves.

The summer after Moofy’s first year in England, I was introduced to the world of tea. If I had ever had tea prior to that time, I don’t remember it. Honestly, I find it unlikely that Mom would compound a problem by giving tea to a child who hardly slept at all to begin with. But what are grandparents for if not giving children treats that parents wouldn’t? And in one of her giant black suitcases, Moofy had brought home a whole stash of Twinings tea.

Of course, I’m sure much of my obsession with tea grew from its immediate connection to special mornings with my grandmother, but I loved it for itself, too. Earl Grey, Lady Grey, English Breakfast, Irish Breakfast...I loved them all.

When Moofy returned to England for the next school year, she left the remainder of her tea stash behind with me. The next summer, she replenished it. It continued like that for years. Once I reached my teens, I tried branching out and sampling other brands of tea, but they all seemed to lack something. It wasn’t that they weren’t good, it was just that...they weren’t the same. My tea palate had been built on the distinctive flavors of Twinings, so to me if it didn’t taste like Twinings Earl Grey, it didn’t taste like Earl Grey at all.

And that’s how I became a Twinings snob.

Eventually health problems forced my grandparents to retire and come back to the family farm permanently. By then I had discovered that Twinings could be purchased in the United States as well, so I didn’t need to fear my supply being cut off.

Moofy and I continued sharing our tea experiences for many years. When I had friends over throughout high school, Moofy would invite us to her house for a sunrise breakfast tea. When I moved in to help her and keep her company after my grandfather’s death, I made certain the tea cupboard always stayed well-stocked—with Twinings, of course. When her health began its last serious decline and she lost interest in food, she still looked forward to the tea and snack I made every afternoon. Even at the very end, when Moofy didn’t even know who I was anymore, we could still sit down and enjoy a good, hot cup of Twinings tea together.

As I write this, it has been four years to the day since Moofy passed away. I still miss her every single day of my life. There are so many things I want to tell her and share with her, but can’t. And even though the pain of losing her has settled and faded with time, there’s still a hollow spot in my life where she used to be.

But every morning when I put the kettle on, pull my box of tea from the cupboard, and smell the sweet, strong aroma of Twinings, it’s still just a little bit like those early mornings all those summers ago...and a little bit like Moofy is still here.

And that’s why I’ll stay a Twinings snob forever.

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Coming up: A review of the steampunk novel Perpetual Motion, as well as an interview with author Bruce Hesselbach!