Clouds and Mist

When I first arrived in Colorado, I stopped briefly in Boulder because I needed to buy outdoor gear, and I knew where to find it; and because I knew somebody who wanted a Zen clock. While I had looked forward to browsing among the mystical timepieces and questioning the proprietor on the extent to which Western methods of temporal measurement were, or were not consistent with Zen, it turned out the clocks were prohibitively expensive, and it wasn't long before the clerk asked me to leave. They were closing, and I had run out of time. It was cold in Boulder, but not too cold; the pedestrian mall was empty of the usual street performers you see in summer, except for the occasional acoustic guitar player emptying his passion to an audience of two or three. After investigating the venerable Boulder Book Store, I stopped at the teahouse and asked them to surprise me with their most interesting green tea. "I really like this one," the bartender said, passing me a serving of Clouds and Mist, "but it has this nutty aroma that some people might think is too strong." It is not. It is a light, airy green tea similar to a Dragonwell, and its high quality is consistent with every tea that I've ever tried in Boulder. The intense flavor comes through in the leaves but disappears when brewed, producing a drink that tastes simple but is very addictive.