In Search of Lost Tea

The Internet is a remarkable thing. You can do research, keep in touch with people thousands of miles away, watch music clips, see videos of cats doing funny things, and of course, buy things.

Recently, it occurred to me that the Internet might be able to reconnect me with a particular kind of tea that liked one summer when I lived with a French family. You can probably get a similar blend in the United States, but only this one brand has the Proustian effect I’m looking for. (It’s a word; I looked it up.) Only this one makes me, for a moment, 16 years old, sitting on a cool gray living room carpet, wearing chinos with the cuffs folded and rolled up short, watching reruns of Miami Vice absurdly dubbed into French.

Now I have a batch of French tea winging its way to my doorstep, thanks to the Internet. They tried to drop it off yesterday, but we were out. The UPS guy left a delivery attempt notice, and noted that the sender was “France,” as if the country itself had sent me a package. Which is kind of what it feels like. I should be home all evening, and I can’t wait until they deliver my little box of Savoie, circa 1987.