It May Smell LIke Sweat Socks

I'm no tea expert. But that made me a pretty good candidate for an educational tea tasting at Miro, the beautiful new Ballard room, where a small group was guided through some teas and desserts by proprietess Jeannie Liu the other night. It's a great space, with a beautiful old tree-root system propping up the tea bar (several pots are always at the ready there, so you can just dive in instead of, like me, getting a migraine when faced with too many choices). There's another giant salvaged tree, downed in last year's windstorm, that now serves as a long bench, thanks to a neighboring woodworker. The wall behind the bar's adorned with a big sheet of metal salvaged from the paint-your-own-ceramics shop that preceded Miro, and into which they've etched their logo. Definitely a warm, unfussy atmosphere. But the real revelation for me was the "Pu-Ehr" tea (pronounced poo-err). I'm not going to attempt to throw around a lot of tea terminology (though I was supplied with a handy sheet for snowing people), and I can't even remember which one it was specifically, but it was just like no other tea I've ever had. True, the brewed tea smelled like it had been poured out of a sweat sock, but what's fascinating about tea is the way your nose will totally deceive you.  If, like me, you can't stand that mouth-puckering feeling that tea often gives, like you're getting dry-mouth from drinking, this Pu-Ehr stuff is way more deep and satisfying. Highly recommended.