Dear Tea Society at Large--
My dear friend Helen Gustafson, our "tea sister," as the Chinese would put it, is no more. There are few still breathing who can claim to have done as much for the cause of tea in the USA. "She was a force," said her nominal boss, Alice Waters of Chez Panisse, who finally gave up trying to fire Helen and gave her full responsibility for the tea service at her Berkeley restaurant. Chez Panisse is arguably the most famous restaurant in America these past decades and what Helen did there had its effect. People willing to spend $100 or more per person for a single sumptuous meal for the first time found themselves offered a range of teas selected and prepared with as just much care as the food itself received. This had a ripple effect as more and more restauranteurs made the pilgrimage to Chez Panisse over the years. Her New York Times obituary quoted me as saying "two decades ago it was quite impossible to find a good cup of tea anywhere in America. Now, it is only highly unlikely. The difference is Helen Gustafson." The exaggeration, if any, was slight.

Helen was born in Minneapolis, the daughter of a physicist who taught at the University of Minnesota there. In her best known book, "The Agony of the Leaves: The Ecstasy of My Life with Tea" she wrote about the tea time ritual she learned in childhood "that remains fixed in my memory as a time of great happiness." It was a time when, as she recalled, "...discipline was suspended, admonishments silenced, and I became a full-fledged member of the household." Nursery tea may have its place, but what little girl or boy will not cherish forever after their recollections of tea time with the grown ups? It was a happiness Helen never forgot which she spread, once she was an adult herself, to other fellow grown-ups as promiscuously as possible. We are all her beneficiaries.

It was my high honor to be Helen's "mentor and guide," as she wrote, and over the years our friendship deepened with every new--or beloved old--tea we shared. One of our last times together she exclaimed "Aren't you glad we never had an affair!" But of course we did, we reveled in our mutual love of tea. We learned fearlessness together once her cancer came and decided it's not impossible to have a pretty jolly time of it while we die. When her time came I made her the bespoke Nilgiri Frost Tea I knew she loved most and dropped it drop by drop from my fingers into her dry open mouth. Helen died soon after in the arms of her husband, son and daughter with the taste of our favorite Nilgiri tea on her tongue.

Death is not the end of it. We go on loving--relationships endure and continue to grow. I am only sometimes sad that Helen's died. But I cannot forego an occasion to say a dear friend of tea has passed away from us, the glamorous and gallant Helen Gustafson of Chez Panisse.

JNP