My first teamaster, Michael Birch, said “Tea is 90 per cent cleaning”. Purity is more a state of mind with many manifestations.
Passing through the garden to the tearoom, the guests will be aware of the host’s cleaning of the garden, removing debris, dead leaves, et cetera, and also the purification of this transitional space by the sprinkling of water, creating an evanescent feeling like just after a shower of rain: a drop of water clinging to the point of a leaf, about to fall. Poignant.
Close to the tearoom is a low stone basin, brimming with fresh water and furnished with a bamboo ladle. Each guest in turn squats, scoops a ladleful of water, pours a little into the left hand; changes hands, pours a little into the right hand (always thus, there are no left-handers in traditional Japan) which is then brought to the mouth. Thus purified of the “dust of the world”, the guest raises the ladle so that the remaining liquid flows down the handle of the ladle, purifying it for the subsequent guest to use.
In the tearoom, the host purifies the utensils, particularly those that are in, or will come into, contact with tea, in various ritual manners using a silk cloth (ritually folded) or with water and a small linen cloth (ritually folded, differently), before the guests. When brought into the tearoom these utensils are not unclean. They will have been cleaned meticulously as part of the preparations for the event. One of the consequences of this, and other, ritualised actions is the focusing of attention within the present moment. A great place to be.
These purifications bring purity of heart, which sounds soppy but which I understand to be a clarity of mind and uncluttered emotions. These allow one to sleep at night.
Alex Fraser runs east teas, now relocated in the new Jubilee Market of Borough Market, London, on Fridays 12-6 and Saturdays 9-4. Contact via epoch@eastteas.com.











