Justice in Your Cup

You enjoy your cup of joe each day, perhaps several, and it's not cheap. You can do this only because sunbaked peasants have planted and pick the beans. You drive up to the Dunkin drive-thru in your 2009 Honda Pilot, but the peasant lives in a hovel without anything close to the medical and educational privileges you take for granted, to say nothing of pedicures and weekly viewing of 30 Rock.

Actually, I don't know how they live. But I'm pretty sure it's not the American suburbs.

So under the terrible weight of guilt stemming from this contrast, and what is surely the exploitation of these peasants by heartless corporations, some folks cam up with the idea of offering these growers a "fair price" for their coffee beans, and then marketing the resulting coffee products in western industrial nations as guaranteed "fair trade" coffee. Hence, for just a few cents more, you can have justice in your cup.

Hey, if it's that simple, why shouldn't we move to a fair trade economy in everything? We can voluntarily increase everyone's earnings! Or perhaps just down at the bottom of the economic ladder. We'll figure out the details later. Goodbye to the free market, with all its exploitation and obvious injustice, its winners and losers. Hello, economy of the enlightened.

Well, let's start with coffee. Victor Claar, an economics professor at Henderson State University in Arkansas, has written a helpful little book for the Acton Institute, Fair Trade? Its Prospects as a Poverty Solution, that examines why growers get paid as little as they do (the volatility of the market and the inelasticity of both the suppy and the demand has a lot to do with it), and the constraints on what we can do about it at the consumer end.

I have written a summary of Claar's argument in "Righteous Coffee" at WORLDmag.com, but it's a very poor summary, so buy the little book. It's just $6.

The Daring Life of a Coffee Drinker

G. Harvey, "Cowboy Coffee" (1999)

As I said in an earlier post, "Noble Tea," one of my students, Elizabeth Brown, a freshman at The King's College here in New York City, prompted me for my thoughts on coffee and tea and their relationship to the noblest human endeavors.

Among other things, I responded with this claim for the superiority of tea.

Tea is a nobler drink. It is more delicate than coffee. The folks at Upton Tea Imports tell us, "Like fine wine, tea is debated, savored, and treasured for its almost endless variety of subtle flavors. Indeed, in terms of its complexity, variety, and worldwide appeal, tea could be called the 'non-alcoholic wine.'"

It seems to me that the vessel from which a drink is properly consumed is an indication of its recognized nobility. For example, properly speaking, wine ought to be served in an elegant crystal glass. Tea is served in small china cups. Anything else does it horrible violence. By contrast, it is perfectly respectable to drink coffee from a cardboard or Styrofoam cup. Stoneware at a diner is equally suitable. Joe don't care.

In turn, Elizabeth offered this sympathetic agreement coupled with an informative early history of coffee drinking among the Arabs and Turks, together with an appreciation of coffee's historic alliance with spirited doers of deeds.

I agree that tea is the nobler drink. The very founding of this great country is awash with tea. Tea is healthy for the heart and body, to say nothing of inspiring mind and soul. It is delicate, refined, and diverse. The rightful place of tea is in fine china, in one’s stomach, or somewhere in between. On this, we are agreed. Did I have to choose one drink (aside from water) to partake of for the rest of my life, I would choose tea. Nonetheless, I do feel compelled to defend that thicker, stronger drink toward which you seem so ill-disposed.

The origins of coffee are more wild, exotic, and blood-stained than that of its leafy cousin twice removed. Coffee’s origins are in Ethiopia, but the beans were quickly discovered and dominated by the Arabs. Since alcohol is taboo for Muslims, coffee was used as a substitute for drinking wine. The Arabic word for coffee (which I sadly cannot remember at the moment) can literally be translated wine of the bean. Originally thought of as a Muslim drink, the Muslims themselves banned coffee due to its stimulating effects, until the Turks made it legal. For the Turkish, coffee was not merely a stimulant, it was a passion. The presentation and sharing of coffee became a major part of the Turkish culture, marking the beginning of coffeehouses as we know them to be. In such a culture, coffee is served in china or the finest cups available to the host. It is specially prepared with fine grounds and sugar boiled with water in a pot. The dregs settle in the bottom of the cup presented to the guest. This style of Turkish coffee is now common throughout the Middle East, North Africa, and the Balkan nations, where I have had occasion to be served such a brew, myself.

Matisse, "Arab Coffee-House (1913)

While relaxed, coffee also bears in its very pungency a sense of adventure. Cowboys on the cattle trail, soldiers in a war zone, sheikhs in the dessert; coffee is their drink, and true enough, it is not always served in fine china. Sipped from tin, Styrofoam, or paper, the vessel is merely a means to the brew, for the adventurer. Of course, now we often associate coffee with gas stations, paperwork, and beat poets, but I wonder if the sense of comfort in adventure is not still there. When the scholar copiously records his research, when the poet spouts forth heady and often incoherent words, when the driver returns to his truck with steaming cup in hand, are they not seeking new frontiers, in some form or fashion? Discovery, inspiration, leaving a mark upon the world—is this not the work beneath the toil? I can taste it. Even if it is bitter, I like it.

Here's to reckless adventure! Here's to the spirit of conquest and greatness! And here's to coffee, come what may!

Noble Tea

One of my students recently asked me whether I prefer coffee or tea and why. She was doing a survey to see if her hunch is right "that coffee or tea is found in the hands and on the lips of all great scholars." Bless her heart, she turned to me.

I have told you elsewhere that I began drinking coffee for strictly social reasons.

But since an early age I have viewed tea as a communion with my ancestors and a toast to the British Empire. By "tea," I mean real tea. Not the fruity, herbal stuff, but Camellia Sinensis that is processed then infused in boiling water.

Tea is a nobler drink. It is more delicate than coffee. The folks at Upton Tea Imports tell us, "Like fine wine, tea is debated, savored, and treasured for its almost endless variety of subtle flavors. Indeed, in terms of its complexity, variety, and worldwide appeal, tea could be called the 'non-alcoholic wine.'"

It seems to me that the vessel from which a drink is properly consumed is an indication of its recognized nobility. For example, properly speaking, wine ought to be served in an elegant crystal glass. Tea is served in small china cups. Anything else does it horrible violence. By contrast, it is perfectly respectable to drink coffee from a cardboard or Styrofoam cup. Stoneware at a diner is equally suitable. Joe don't care.

I admit that I am not a tea connoisseur, so I happily use tea bags, though I would prefer loose tea on principle, if for no other reason. (My Scottish grandfather called what they put in teabags "the sweepins off the floor," though he used it all the same.) But if fine loose tea is what you want, go to http://www.blogger.com/www.uptontea.com. Upton Tea Imports is a thriving loose leaf tea business that began in Upton MA where I was living in the early 1990s.

I am the customer whom the owner describes in the article, "Tea Revives the World." I purchased the yellowed and crumbling poster pictured above, glued thoughtlessly to particleboard, at a yard sale in Hopedale, Massachusetts. To preserve this rare tribute to one of God's most universally enjoyed blessings, I had it properly framed. Alas, a year later, I needed money for seminary and hadn't the space for it in what would be my small dorm room. So I sold it to the man at Upton Tea Imports who kindly insisted on giving me whatever it had cost me. The article tells you all about the 1940 poster, and I am glad it is properly housed in a suitable setting.

***********
June 6, 2010 -- a reader in a comment below notifies us that a fine copy of this map is preserved in the Tea Museum at Mariage Freres in Paris.

These pictures come from someone's posting on Flickr.

The Commercial Captivity of the Church

What if coffee shops were like churches? Or rather, what if churches were even more like coffee shops than they are already?



It appears that this video is making fun of the contemporary megachurch, not because it has been commercialized, but because it has been insufficiently commercialized. Do you think I have that right?

They seem to be saying, "Look at the cheap signs and banners and community bulletin board. See how they try welcoming those two into a community, when the hapless couple only wants some coffee. How ridiculous it all is. Ha, ha, ha. We laugh at them. But here's the answer: we should treat Christ even more like a commodity, responding uncritically to people's "consumer preferences," and then the church will see more customers, and even return customers! Then money! Power! Prestige! Entertainers won't laugh at us when we're trying to be serious. The church will succeed!

Were the makers of this video just having some laughs? Highly unlikely. It's satire. It's designed to change attitudes about how the church does its work of worship, mutual love, and evangelism. It's made by "BeyondRelevance.com (what does that mean?), for a culturally strategic church." So it appears to be concerned about strategy for the church in our culture.

Ask yourself: Did God send his Son to suffer, die, and rise again...for this?

Coffee Haters Come Around

If you like coffee (or if you are considering the habit), you will appreciate this clever series of napkin sketches by Christoph Niemann in The New York Times ("Coffee," Dec. 3, 2008).



He illustrates his journey into the appreciation of the dark alternative to glorious tea.

I began drinking tea around the age of ten. Each week, when my parents came home with the groceries, one of my exciting rituals (aside from picking the crunchberries out of the Captain Crunch and eating the heal of the fresh rye bread) was breaking open the Red Rose Tea box, discovering which porcelain animal figurine it contained, and then burying my nose in the tea bags and inhaling the exotic aroma (yes, gross). Tea was also the family heritage. To drink it several times a day was to affirm my deep satisfaction with being Scottish.

When I entered the pastoral ministry at age 35, however, I decided that I had to start drinking coffee, or at least develop a tolerance for it. It was simply unacceptable to go into the corner tavern in Walker, Iowa, and order tea. The waitress looks at you funny. Then she goes into the back and blows the dust off a box of tea bags. Then she doesn't quite know what to do with them. She puts a bag in small coffee cup and pours hot water over it, and you think to yourself, "I'm paying for this?," or "This is not a drink."

Therefore, coffee.

Niemann shares his own experience:

At 17 I still suffered from coffee schizophrenia: I loved the concept of coffee, but resented the taste. I decided to cure myself through auto-hazing. Around that time, my parents took me on my first trip to Paris. We arrived by train early in the morning and went straight to a little cafe. I ordered a large café au lait and forced down the entire bowl. It worked. Since then I have enjoyed coffee pretty much every day.

And there's much more.

"Christoph Niemann's illustrations have appeared on the covers of The New Yorker, Atlantic Monthly, The New York Times Magazine and American Illustration. He is the author of two children's books, "The Pet Dragon," which teaches Chinese characters to young readers, and "The Police Cloud." His Web site is christophniemann.com."

In the Political Calm, the Blessings of Tea

I'm still catching my breath from the intensity of the last two years' political contest. I'm feeling a calm as one feels after a terrible storm. But I suspect it's more like the eye of the hurricane. The storm will continue, fiercer and more deadly than it has raged up to now. Perhaps the Bushes and the Obamas felt the same calm as they chummed around the White House today. Perhaps they shared tea.

So as we enjoy calm--or attempt to cultivate it while we can--let turn our own thoughts to the blessings of tea. I am republishing my post on the subject, as I plan to do every year around this time if I can remember to do so. You see, I'm really busy.

In 1995, someone wrote a letter to Upton Tea Imports, saying: "Only a pervert is capable of drinking the revolting liquid which is obtained by steeping little bags of toilet paper in hot water." Of course, Upton Tea Imports--a merchant of the highest distinction--sells only loose tea. Thankfully, I am not so burdened with this enthusiast's refined tastes, but I respect his appreciation for a good cuppie o' tea (as they say in my ancestral land). In honor of that best of brews in all its variety, I share Robert Service's ought-to-be-classic poem from Rhymes of a Red Cross Man (1916), "A Cup of Tea." (The context is the trenches of World War I.)

You make it in your mess-tin by the brazier's rosy gleam;
You watch it cloud, then settle amber clear;
You lift it with your bay'nit, & you sniff the fragrant steam,
The very breath of it is ripe with cheer.
You're awful cold and dirty, and a-cursing of your lot;
You scoff the blushin' 'alf of it, so rich and ripping hot;
It bucks you up like anythink, just seems to touch the spot:
God bless the man that first discovered Tea.

Since I came out to fight in France (which ain't the other day),
I think I've drunk enough to float a barge;
All kinds of fancy foreign dope, from caffy and doo lay,
To rum they serves you out before a charge;
In back rooms of estaminays I've gurgled pints of cham;
I've swilled down mugs of cider till I've felt a bloomin' dam;
But s'truth! they all ain't in it with the vintage of Assam;
God bless the man that first invented Tea.

I think them lazy lumps o' gods wot kips on asphodel
Swigs nectar that's a flavour of Oolong;
I only wish them son's o' guns a grillin' down in 'ell
Could have their daily ration of Suchong.
Hurrah! I'm off the battle, which is 'ell and 'eaven too;
And if I don't give some poor bloke a sexton's job to do,
To-night by Fritz's campfire won't I 'ave a gorgeous brew,
(For fightin' mustn't interfere with Tea).
To-night we'll all be telling of the Boches that we slew,
As we drink the giddy victory in Tea.

Try How to Brew a Great Cuppa.

Interesting tea website: www.teaspirit.com/teabagladies where I found this sketch of Pushkin at tea.


Perhaps another time, I will post on Service's "The Haggis of Private McPhee." Ah, the golden cadence of poesy!

The Strange Story of the Starbucks Mermaid

Apparently there is a controversy over Starbucks' move back to their original logo. It seems to be as puzzling as the move to "new Coke" in the 1980s. First, the cups are brown. Yuck. The green was so pleasing and easily identifiable. The old logo depicting the bare breasted woman with the double mermaid tail is also less attractive than the smiling sea-lady who has graced their cups since 1992. Sure, the old logo is historical. It is from a sixteenth century Norse wood cut. But not everything from old Norse woodcuts is suitable for just everyone's coffee cup. There is a Christian group protesting the new logo, claiming that the mermaid is essentially "a naked woman...with her legs spread like a prostitute." Well, given that these Norse guys were sailors back before their profession was polite and respectable, that take certainly seems reasonable. What happened to risk-averse, corporate common sense? The cup my wife just brought home (I don't drink the stuff; I prefer Dunkin') indicates that they have at least covered her breasts with the ends of her long locks. But she's still clearly a ho. It's really funny.

Read about it (I know, who's interested in Starbucks?) at Brand Autopsy. (The post is old. But I just recently started seeing these ugly brown cups.) Deadprogrammer's Cafe gives you even more on the use of the mermaid. The BBC also just did this story.

If you're interested in fascinating business stories, you can read Howard Schultz’s Pour Your Heart Into It: How Starbucks Built a Company One Cup At a Time, or Taylor Clark's Starbucked: A Double Tall Tale of Caffeine, Commerce and Culture.

Lay Aside Politics. Let's Celebrate Tea!

In 1995, someone wrote a letter to Upton Tea Imports, saying: "Only a pervert is capable of drinking the revolting liquid which is obtained by steeping little bags of toilet paper in hot water." Of course, Upton Tea Imports--a merchant of the highest distinction--sells only loose tea. Thankfully, I am not so burdened with this enthusiast's refined tastes, but I respect his appreciation for a good cuppie o' tea (as they say in my ancestral land). In honor of that best of brews in all its variety, I share Robert Service's ought-to-be-classic poem from Rhymes of a Red Cross Man (1916), "A Cup of Tea." (The context is the trenches of World War I.)

You make it in your mess-tin by the brazier's rosy gleam;
You watch it cloud, then settle amber clear;
You lift it with your bay'nit, & you sniff the fragrant steam,
The very breath of it is ripe with cheer.
You're awful cold and dirty, and a-cursing of your lot;
You scoff the blushin' 'alf of it, so rich and ripping hot;
It bucks you up like anythink, just seems to touch the spot:
God bless the man that first discovered Tea.

Since I came out to fight in France (which ain't the other day),
I think I've drunk enough to float a barge;
All kinds of fancy foreign dope, from caffy and doo lay,
To rum they serves you out before a charge;
In back rooms of estaminays I've gurgled pints of cham;
I've swilled down mugs of cider till I've felt a bloomin' dam;
But s'truth! they all ain't in it with the vintage of Assam;
God bless the man that first invented Tea.

I think them lazy lumps o' gods wot kips on asphodel
Swigs nectar that's a flavour of Oolong;
I only wish them son's o' guns a grillin' down in 'ell
Could have their daily ration of Suchong.
Hurrah! I'm off the battle, which is 'ell and 'eaven too;
And if I don't give some poor bloke a sexton's job to do,
To-night by Fritz's campfire won't I 'ave a gorgeous brew,
(For fightin' mustn't interfere with Tea).
To-night we'll all be telling of the Boches that we slew,
As we drink the giddy victory in Tea.

Try How to Brew a Great Cuppa.
Interesting tea website: www.teaspirit.com/teabagladies where you can find a sketch of Pushkin at tea.


Perhaps another time, I will post on Service's "The Haggis of Private McPhee." Ah, the golden cadence of poesy!