The Medieval Influencer Who Convinced the World to Drink Tea—Not Eat It

Lu Yu, an aspiring writer and professional clown, had his first taste of tea soup sometime in his adolescence. Lu's childhood home is a Buddhist monastery that overlooked a scenic lake in Central China. Lu called the soupditch water.

All the other ingredients bothered Lu more than the tea. The offending brew contained scallions, ginger, jujube dates, citrus peels, Dogwood berries, and mint, all of which were used to make a smooth paste. The result was a soup or a sauce.

Lu Yu went on to become the world's greatest tea influencer. The tea he loved was made from powdered tea leaves and was a recent invention. People in Asia ate tea leaves for hundreds of years before ever drinking it. Most people around the world drink tea because of Lu Yu.

According to George Van Driem, author of the Tale of Tea: A Comprehensive History of Tea: From Prehistoric Times to the Present Day, the ancient custom of tea-eating hailed from the forests that straddle China's western border with Burma. The Eastern Himalayas was home to non- Chinese people and wild tea trees.

The inhabitants of the forests used to eat tea leaves raw. The tall trees, which grow more than 30 feet in the wild, spurred them to scale them. They figured out how to ferment the leaves, which they chewed like betel or added to soups and greens.

After their rulers annexed parts of the Eastern Himalayas, the Chinese started to drink tea. They were using tea to improve their concentration. According to a legend, eating the bitter leaves is good for sharpening the mind if taken for long periods of time.

Tea was more to the Chinese than a drug, and they also thought of it as a cooking ingredient. In the central coast, home chefs boiled the tea leaves in pots with rice and water to make a gruel. In the hot summer months, the gruel was popular as it stimulated the body and helped cool down the body.

In China's land-locked interior, tea foods were plentiful. The soup that Lu Yu despised was described by a third-century scholar. The locals baked the tea leaves until brown and then added scallions, ginger slices, and citrus peels to make a powder. There were mixed reviews of the stewy and starchy offering. Pi Rixiu, a ninth-century poet, complained that the tea was muddied with other ingredients.

Lu Yu is responsible for the lack of tea soup on Chinese menus. When Lu wasn't performing in a comedy troupe or writing elegant treatises, he was busy searching for the best tea leaves and the perfect brew, which he made for his wealthy friends. The medieval tea lover was responsible for the transformation of tea from a soupy food into a liquid that is free of calories.

Lu was not the first to use hot water to make tea. In the Buddhist monasteries of his time, tea was plentiful and people had been preparing it in these ways for centuries. The drink was essential for the monks to fuel their marathon meditation sessions.

Lu probably drank straight tea from the Buddhist monk who raised him. Lu ran away from home as a teenager to repay his foster father's kindness. The Tea Classic was written by Lu in the 760s. He talked about the wonderful qualities of the beverage.

James Benn, author of Tea in China: A Cultural and Religious History, says that Lu preferred the plain drink because he thought the leaf was an elixir. To improve the water's taste, he insisted that tea only be consumed with water and a hint of salt. Lu didn't like tea gruels or soups.

Lu explained how to make a beverage that could be enjoyed on its own. Hewing to established procedures, such as whisking the powder to produce a foam top, he stressed the importance of acquiring pure spring water and fine tea powder. Lu warned that these steps would ruin the taste of the drink. Plain tea was the rival of clarified butter and refined sweet dew beer, which were then gold standards of gourmet excellence.

The Tea Classic spurred a craze for the leaf, but it also earned Lu great fame and inspired countless imitators. Lu's mark on Chinese tea culture was obvious within a half century. Tea vendors worshiped him as their patron saint and made statues of him.

The author of the Tea Classic had a gift for networking. Lu's talent as a comic and penchant for self promotion won him powerful backers despite his humble beginnings. The 14-year-old had his first lucky break while working as a clown. Lu was adopted by a governor after he was declared an extraordinary talent after watching him perform. The former runaway was given opportunities by the Chinese elite society. Powerful officials, Buddhist and Taoist theologians, calligraphers, and leading poets were among Lu's bosom buddies by the time he wrote his masterpiece. Lu had influence over the influential.

Good timing helped the Tea Classic. Benn points out that the drafting of this work coincides with the An Lushan Rebellion, a revolt that nearly destroyed the Tang Dynasty. The hard-partying ruling class sobered up after the event. Lu's Tea Classic was written in a classical idiom and was intended to convince the rich and powerful that tea was a healthful and elegant alternative to wine and beer.

China's ruling class was convinced by Lu's treatise to make caffeinated soups and gruels. In the late-11th century, Su Che trashed spicy tea concoctions.

Lu's influence extended far beyond China. For hundreds of years, drinking an understated brew has been popular in Japan. Japanese monks visited China many times between the eighth and 13th centuries. The Buddhist clerics imported tea seeds and Lu's celebrated book.

It was already clear to Europeans that tea was something to drink when they first encountered it in China and Japan. The leaf was referred to as a "China drink" in 1660. The news of Dutch sailors swallowing tea leaves became a source of amusement. The sailors probably ate tea leaves to prevent scurvy.

The inhabitants of the Eastern Himalayas still enjoy eating tea leaves despite the fact that many people around the world only drink tea. Palaung tribes people steam and wrap tea in banana leaves and deposit it in subterranean pits. After several months, the tea leaves are ready to be eaten. The Jino relish their tea and use the fresh leaves to make stir- fried greens and gruel.

The Chinese-speaking world still has tea. People still consume a tea stew called leicha despite Lu's ridicule. leicha is a distinctive food of the Hakka, a group of Han Chinese who fled a war-torn country.

The basic outlines of the recipe are the same as every Hakka cook puts their own spin on it. Make a paste. Add hot water to the tea after it is Mortared with ingredients such as scallions, ginger, mint, sesame seeds, and basil. If you have a bright green sauce, pour it over a bed of rice and vegetables.

Thanks to the popularity of Hakka cuisine, this stew has seen a revival in recent years. In Malaysia and Taiwan, pounded tea is a beloved street food.

In The Hakka Cookbook: Chinese Soul Food from Around the World, Linda Lau Anusasananan praises the unique qualities of pounded tea. The sauce is smooth and creamy. The garlic-scented rice makes the dish satisfying.

One thing is certain, pounded tea has come full circle, from Himalayan tradition to acclaimed heritage, and it is unclear whether it will ever become a mainstream food again in China.

Leicha (Herbaceous Pounded Tea from Malaysia)

From The Hakka Cookbook Blog, by Linda Lau Anusasananan

It takes about 6 to 8 cups of tea to serve over rice and greens.

There are ingredients.

2 cups fresh Thai or Italian basil leaves, 2 cups fresh mint leaves, 2 cups vegetable oil, 1/2 cup chopped garlic, 1/2 cup chopped cilantro, 1/2 cup dried green tea leaves, 1/2 cup black peppercorns, 1/2 cup roasted salted peanuts, 1/2 cup toasting sesame seeds, and 1/2 cup cold

1. Coarsely chop basil and mint. Set a 10- to 12-inch frying pan over medium-high heat. When the pan is hot, add the oil and rotate the pan to spread. Add the garlic and stir until soft, about 30 seconds. Add the basil, mint and cilantro; stir-fry just until the herbs turn bright green, about 30 seconds. Remove herbs from the pan.
2. In a blender, finely grind the tea leaves and peppercorns. Add the peanuts and sesame seeds; blend until finely ground. Add the basil mixture and cold water, and blend until smooth.
3. Just before serving, add 1 cup of the boiling water to herb mixture in blender and whirl until smooth, holding blender lid down with a towel. Pour tea into a 2-quart pan. Add the remaining 3 cups boiling water and salt; whisk until blended. Stir over medium heat until hot. Serve hot.

This recipe is very similar to the soup that Lu Yu complained about. I enjoyed it. You should pour the tea over the rice with stir- fried greens and tofu. On page 120 of The Hakka Cookbook, there is a recipe for garlic rice.

When I cooked this leicha recipe, I fried slices of pressed tofu in the wok and cooked 1 cup of rice. I put a half cup of the cooked rice into a bowl with bok choy, pressed tofu, roasted peanuts, and preserved mustard greens, and a tea sauce on top. If you like your food soupier, you can add more tea sauce and season it with salt and pepper. I found that a pinch of spicy, fermented Burmese tea leaves, which I bought from Amazon, enhances the flavor.

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