Three pots, one morning

We set three pots on the table — one tall and glass, one a small clay gaiwan, one a battered enamel kettle from the kitchen — and brewed the same leaves in each.

“A morning's tasting: hibiscus, second-flush black, and a green from row four.”

The clay pulled out the deepest minerality. The glass let the colour speak first. The enamel was the most honest: this is the tea your grandmother would have made.

We keep all three on the shelf. Different mornings ask for different vessels.