“THREE stone,” Sally says, “I’ve lost three stone in two years and it’s all due to this.”
I look at the unpromising brown liquid mud in her mug: it smells of henna powder with a vague hint of cat piss. “What is it?” I ask. “Oolong tea.” Ah! I am none the wiser; I’ve never heard of it. “It’s Chinese. It ‘s proven to burn fat and help you slim.”
“And you can still drink and eat what you like?” I ask. “Yep” she says, “Magic”. She lends me her tea bag and with encouraging gestures gets me to swill some down. “It’s not bad when you get used to it,” she says, as I pull the sort of face that children do when made to eat brussels sprouts.
Nevertheless, the next day I Google it and find it is now one of the most common teas drunk in the US after it was endorsed on the Ophrah Winfry show. But does it really work? Most sites contain such statements as: “Biologically, it activates the enzyme that the body uses for dissolving triglyceride (the main constituent of vegetable oil and animal fats). It has been proven that the daily intake of Wulong tea enhances fat metabolism and therefore controls obesity.” I can’t help but wonder why we haven’t all been force-fed it over the years.
Well, it may be that there is simply more cheaply available now as the Chinese market opens up, or it may be that the widespread publicity making it so popular, with a number of expensive ‘sign up for regular supply’ scams is proving excellent business, or it maybe that the hype is simply unfounded.
But that appears not the case: according to numerous university studies it does, in fact, speed up metabolic rates, reduce the absorption of fats and appear to have other extraordinary beneficial effects from combating cancer, clearing eczema and giving you cleaner teeth.
Three hundred metres from the flat in Athens I find myself in a small shop: Le Palais des Thes. The shelves are full of a bewildering array of identical pale lemon metal containers. There is a small earthenware pot being gently warmed over a burner. “Hello,” I say. The elderly shop owner gives me an enigmatic oriental smile and a bow of her head.
“Oolong tea?” I ask hopefully. She smiles and waves a hand towards the containers. On each is a small stamp of origin and a fermentation percentage like bottles of zivania. There must be 25 different varieties.
She moves slowly towards the teapot and like an ancient mystic carefully pours a small cup with a delicate mouthful, and passes it to me to drink. It is nothing like the bitter brown of the mug this morning. It smells of flowers and fruits and is a light gold. “The des songes,” she whispers as if she had given me a magic potion.
I bought some, of course, and I am drinking it now. Decanting it with the tiny silver tea strainer into a small handleless mug I bought at the same time. It’s my sixth cup of the day. I have no idea if I will really become the sylph of my ‘songes’ but I am feeling curiously virtuous… and am turning Chinese…I really think so…
