The Blarney Castle Tea Pot

By Carolyn Franklin M.A.

Perhaps you might find yourself needing something so far off the beaten track that it becomes a challenge to find it - like a tea pot, but, not just any tea pot.

Tea pots have to be just right. Not too big or too small. Big enough to manipulate easily, hold ample tea for two - twice, be graceful, made of china, easy to pour and not drip.

And, of course, it has to be beautiful. That's the hard part - beautiful.

The tea pot I loved got too small. Well actually, it always was small, but as time moved on I just needed a larger one. The search took years, many, many tea pots were regarded and rejected.

Then, I found it.

Seated on the top of a wire rack at the Salvation Army, was this imposing tea pot, rather large, quite round, and, decidedly arrogant. On the side was a painting of Blarney Castle surrounded by the lush, Irish countryside.

I fell in love with it - $6.00 - a bit much for a used tea pot, but I made the investment. I find sipping a cup of hot tea is cheaper than whining to a psychiatrist.

Over the past many years and the passing parade of Life’s drama, the Blarney Castle tea pot has been the provider of the hot, calming brew to help assuage a heart damaged by the tides of Life. It has also been privy to raucous stories of a bride’s First Night and the dilemma of a suitor’s Mafia engagement to the wrong girl.

These are true stories, memories of treasured friends. I live in that moment again with them, wrapped in the warmth of friendship, the comfort of their voice, to share in their sorrow or laugh about Life. The Blarney Castle teapot sits, silent and poised, ready to fill the cup of friendship yet again.

Come, join us for a cup of hot tea, be a part of Life’s drama, share your dreams, your disappointments and your adventures. We’re here... the door is open...

• Language: English
• Publisher: Carolyn Franklin M.A.
• Release date: May 3, 2020
• ISBN: 9780463940907

Carolyn Franklin M.A.

M. A. Communication StudiesM. A. EducationB. A. Psychology30 years voice training (San Francisco Opera)Voice/Speech improvement CoachContact Carolyn - [e-mail]

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The Blarney Castle Tea Pot

Carolyn Franklin M. A.

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Copyright Carolyn Franklin M. A. 2020

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Contents

The Blarney Castle Tea Pot

The Tea Ceremony - Italian style

San Francisco

Chinese - Japanese

The History of The Teapot

Aunt Annie’s Red Chinese Pot

The Proper Way to Drink Tea

The Magic Carpet

The Legend of the Blue Willow pattern

Honored

Blarney Castle

About The Author

Publications By Carolyn Franklin M.A.

The Blarney Castle Tea Pot

My relationship with tea began when I was 5 years old at my Aunt Annie’s house in Fitchburg, Massachusetts. Aunt Annie was the quintessential Bostonian even though she was Italian, she was also the only American in her family.

My other aunts were stereotypes of the passionate, maternal, in love-with-life Italians, straight from Naples. They all served red wine, usually Port, with anything.

The only food we ate was Italian, home-made, best ingredients, all from our garden and my grandmother, Mamali’s, chicken eggs. Sunday was always ravioli, daily was spaghetti with meat balls, or, fugazza with alice (foo gaht zah with ah leej in Neapolitan), bread with anchovies and pastieri or linguini con volglio (voh lioh) (clams) served on her Spode.

Friday was fish. and, if God was pleased with us, it was not cod.

Pizza had not yet been discovered by Americans and when It was, I was surprised people went wild over it. We called it, fugazza (foo gaht zah). I had it almost every day at Annie’s - with home made pepperoni. But, I liked it best with alice ( ah leej = anchovies). Why was it so popular...it was just pizza...?

The Tea Ceremony - Italian style

But the afternoons were the time for visits and tea. Often a neighbor dropped by for a minute to talk about Angelina and Paulo - he got a new job and she is such a good house-keeper - and, the baby - so smaht! - so big! And, John is going to Teacher’s College.

Always about family - only family - the Reason to Be.

For an Italian, family is the Meaning of Life.

Out comes the tea pot, two cups, two saucers, the shugah, cream and usually a piece of blue berry pie (apple was a runner up), the conversation, I just made this blueberry pie, here try some. Oh, I couldn’t, I have to get home and start dinner. Just a small piece, it’s fresh. Well, maybe just a small piece.

East coast tea was, and still is, a sluggish mess of black, black tea, with two spoons of sugar to kill the taste. Some cream is added to make the blackness seem less ominous. When ready to drink, the tea looks like someone cleaned their paint brushes in it.

That’s the way it was. What did I know, I was only 5.

Rafael

It was Wednesday. A calm, sunny afternoon. Quiet, always quiet. No cars drove by, everyone one walked, to the store, to the neighbors, to church. Only the husbands had cars to drive to work and on some Sunday afternoons the family went for a ride in the country. Massachusetts is beautiful, wild azaleas and birch trees. Brown-eyed Susans, Queen Anne’s lace and daisies.

No wives worked - well at an outside job. Young girls worked. Maybe they find a husband at the job...? Evangelina met a man, Frank - we’ll see... he’s got a job, you know him, he’s Teresa’s boy - the oldest one...

Then, with a helpless gesture of the hands, a shrug of the shoulders, a knowing nod of the head and the unfinished phrase, ...God’s will... to see if they get married.

Aunt Annie finished drying the lunch dishes and put the last plate in the cupboard, exactly where it goes. She wiped her hands on her apron, hung the apron on the hook, then, in a half-smile she said, Theah, that’s done. Now, Joe will be home in 3 hours and he’ll want suppah. Carolyn, go down cellah and get some green beans... maybe tonight pork chops I think...

There was a knock on the kitchen door, it was half opened, Angelina peeked around the door corner, "Hi,