With ember-red hair, and a liquid recognition about her blue eyes, Valerie offers perhaps more with her attentive and silent demeanor as most other folks do with their many words.

What moves me most about Norwood is not only the depth of his information about tea, background, art and literature, but the depth of his spirit. His Southern manners avoid him from flaunting his durable intellect, so it little by little seeps into you like a soft, fine mist. I get the feeling that he will meet up with no matter what level of psychological college is supplied by his companion, but his gentle kindness and humility would not permit him to brandish extremely arduous feelings that may elude or intimidate his guest.

Regardless of his bearing of refinement, Norwood is also magnificently irreverent. One of my preferred art parts in Norwood's home is a clay solid bust (made by San Francisco sculptor Harriet Moore) of Norwood himself, sporting a massive, floppy English afternoon tea hat which Norwood has apparently placed on its head. Norwood loves to poke fun at himself, and this helps make him not only endearing inside his gigantic persona as the country's foremost tea skilled, but much more approachable as nicely.

Valerie offers me the greatest seat in the residing room, a crimson leather-based, higher-backed chair dealing with the SanFrancisco Bay with its toy sailboat views. We consider our initial tea, a 2008 spring harvest Tung Ting oolong, freshly arrived in 24 hours at Crimson Blossom Tea, and which I introduced with me as an providing. Norwood steeps the tea in a wonderful white porcelain vessel, custom created by his buddy, Jason Chen, who is the owner of Lu Yu Tea in Bellevue, Washington. The infuser looks like a tall tea cup with an elongated filter. We consume from big white porcelain tea cups, antiques seemingly worn with the historic sipping of previous Chinese tea drinkers. The tea is delightful, and Norwood approves. He is specially delighted, as he has b