Whilst some are uncommon lexical fossils, some three dozen Chinese terms for teas have been formally made part of the English corpus, language of course reflecting discernment revealing historic attitudes ranging from admiration, appropriation to derision. Bohea and Keemun have been borrowed directly from their regional provenance as well as descriptive words for different styles like oolong (็้พ) and congou, and souchong developed and cultivated in the Wuyi mountains of northern Fujian—green, white, black all coming from the same tea leaves, just dried and cured with different processes which affect the taste. The etymologies of some terms are more abstract, such as “pekoe” for grading leaves, with the Western tea trade’s standards—ostensibly from a word meaning downy and referring the quality of a leaf freshly emerged for the bud and suitable for the highest quality brew—it may have been invented by nineteenth century magnate Sir Thomas Lipton with his premium “orange pekoe” (something that did not exist in Chinese tea culture) in deference to the House of Orange-Nassau and the more established Dutch East India Company who first introduced the beverage to Europe, and then there’s the unfortunate pantomime stock character Widow Twankey. 
A corruption of the tea export hub of the district of Tuxni (ๅฑฏๆบช) in Anhui province that had an unfair reputation of producing lower quality tea leaves, older, courser, raggedy and became associated with something past its prime with a stereotyped staple role in musical stage comedies that would make Mickey Rooney’s part in Breakfast at Tiffany’s seem mild in comparison, an eccentric matronly figure, usually played by a male actor in drag, running a Chinese laundry. One would like to report such depictions did not linger but the 1861 routine lasted through the vaudeville era in the 1930s and the Widow Twankey was revived in the third season of Kevin Sorbo’s Hercules: The Legendary Journeys as a recurring character—played by Michael Hurst—Iolaus, Hercules’ charioteer in that series as well as on Xena: Warrior Princess, in drag and conflating several mythological tradition as the original was Aladdin’s mother somehow. Fortunately other tea-terminology, not the reserve of experts and connoisseurs, is transmitted accurately and with respect though the business of trade was anything but.
synchronoptica
one year ago: the Helsinki Accords (with synchronoptica), more synthetic geology plus the playfulness of AI
two years ago: Ford is prepped for his new role, the samplers of Lorina Buwler plus cartographic innovations
three years ago: Dune published (1965), assorted links worth revisiting plus the case against Trump
four years ago: a taxonomical exploration plus MST3K on Hercules Unchained
five years ago: the debut of MTV (1981), more on hyperinflation, the biblically nameless, more Universal Everything plus a prime pollinator
six years ago: Lammas Day, Deadmau5 and the Neptunes plus facial masks inspired by mass-transit upholstery patterns
Courtesy of Strange Company, we learn about writer Graham Greene’s self-exile to Mexico (see previously here, here and here) and how the author’s visit to a country he held in contempt for research on religious persecution (see above), supposedly, was prompted in part by a libel suit leveraged against him by the legal team of child actor Shirley Temple Black after Greene intimated that her on-screen persona was crafted for the titilation of men of a certain age or certain ecclesiastical occupations, conveniently safe from prosecution outside of the court’s jurisdiction. The objective of gathering materials for a novel, expanded into a travelogue and two books that turn out to be historical fictions, transformed into a multi-year odyssey through Tabasco and Chiapas.
