10 Golden Rules for Making the Perfect Cup of Tea (1941)

In 1941, Eng­land found itself in an all-out-war with Nazi Ger­many. It had sus­tained severe dam­age when the Nazis unleashed the Blitz on 16 Eng­lish cities between Sep­tem­ber 1940 and May 1941. Despite the heavy toll, there was only one thing for most Brits to do — to keep calm and car­ry on and pre­serve small moments of nor­mal­cy when pos­si­ble. Of course, that meant drink­ing tea and not just any tea, but good tea. Above we present Tea Mak­ing Tips, a short 1941 film cre­at­ed by the Empire Tea Bureau, that out­lines the gold­en rules for mak­ing tea wor­thy of its name. The nar­ra­tor reminds the view­ers, “Tea is not a man­u­fac­tured arti­cle which can be made, bot­tled up and served at will. It must be pre­pared every time it is acquired, and it’s suc­cess or fail­ure depends entire­ly upon the atten­tion you pay to the six gold­en rules.” If you watch the 10-minute film, you’ll actu­al­ly count 10 rules (if not more), many of which are still pre­sum­ably rel­e­vant to a tea drinker today. They are as fol­lows:

1) In gen­er­al, store tea leaves in an air­tight con­tain­er, prefer­ably away from cheese, soap, spices and oth­er items with strong aro­mas.

2) Also keep the tea off of the ground and away from walls.

3) Always use a good qual­i­ty tea. You’ll spend a lit­tle more mon­ey, but you’ll actu­al­ly get more bang for your pound.

4) Use fresh water. Stale water makes stale tea, which no one needs, espe­cial­ly in wartime.

5) Make sure you warm your teapot before adding hot water and tea leaves.

6) Use the right ratio of tea leaves to water.

7) Steep the tea in water that’s nei­ther under-boiled nor over-boiled.

8) Let the tea infuse for the right amount of time. 3–5 min­utes should cov­er most kinds of tea. Oth­er kinds will need more time.

9) Use tea pots made of chi­na, earth­en­ware, and stain­less steel. Avoid ones made of enam­el or tin.

10)  Don’t add milk to the tea too soon. Wait for the last pos­si­ble minute.

Relat­ed Con­tent:

The His­to­ry of Cof­fee and How It Trans­formed Our World

“The Vertue of the COFFEE Drink”: London’s First Cafe Cre­ates Ad for Cof­fee in the 1650s

Epic Tea Time with Alan Rick­man

This is Cof­fee!: A 1961 Trib­ute to Our Favorite Stim­u­lant

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Kurt Vonnegut to John F. Kennedy: ‘On Occasion, I Write Pretty Well’

VonnegutToJFKFinal

When archivist Stacey Chan­dler was comb­ing through one of the “Mass­a­chu­setts” files recent­ly at the John F. Kennedy Pres­i­den­tial Library and Muse­um in Boston, she stum­bled on some­thing unex­pect­ed: a let­ter to Kennedy from an obscure writer named Kurt Von­negut, vol­un­teer­ing his ser­vices on Kennedy’s pres­i­den­tial cam­paign.

The let­ter (click the image above to see it larg­er) was writ­ten on August 4, 1960, when Von­negut was a strug­gling fic­tion writer and a failed Saab deal­er liv­ing on Cape Cod, in the town of West Barn­sta­ble, Mass­a­chu­setts. He had writ­ten two nov­els: Play­er Piano (1952) and The Sirens of Titan (1959). In a few declar­a­tive sen­tences, Von­negut out­lines his writ­ing expe­ri­ence and offers his help. There is no record at the JFK Library of a reply from Kennedy and, accord­ing to Rebec­ca Onion at Slate, no men­tion of the sub­ject in two Von­negut biogra­phies.

“I am thir­ty-eight,” writes Von­negut, “have been a free­lance for ten years. I’ve pub­lished two nov­els, and am a reg­u­lar con­trib­u­tor of fic­tion to The Sat­ur­day Evening Post, Ladies’ Home Jour­nal, McCal­l’s, and so on. On occa­sion, I write pret­ty well.”

via Slate/Archival­ly Speak­ing

Relat­ed Con­tent:

Kurt Vonnegut’s Eight Tips on How to Write a Good Short Sto­ry

Kurt Von­negut Reads from Slaugh­ter­house-Five

Kurt Vonnegut’s Tips for Teach­ing at the Iowa Writ­ers’ Work­shop (1967)

The Finland Wartime Photo Archive: 160,000 Images From World War II Now Online

Kuitu Oy:llä konstuoitu IT-tykki.

From the The Finnish Defence Forces comes the Finnish Wartime Pho­to­graph Archive, a col­lec­tion of 160,000 pho­tographs tak­en dur­ing World War II when Fin­land fought to free itself from Nazi Ger­many and the Sovi­et Union. Pre­served in their orig­i­nal state, the pic­tures “por­tray life on the home front, ruins from bomb­ings, the war indus­try and events that hap­pened behind the front lines.” As you can imag­ine, some of the pho­tos can be dis­turb­ing.

On a brighter note, let me add this. You can down­load each and every pho­to, and use them for edu­ca­tion­al pur­pos­es. The archive only asks that you give prop­er attri­bu­tion by men­tion­ing “SA-kuva” as the source. And, indeed, “SA-kuva” should be giv­en cred­it for the image above.

You can enter the com­plete archive here.

via Petapix­el

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How the CIA Secretly Funded Abstract Expressionism During the Cold War


Con­sid­er­ing the pos­si­bil­i­ty of a tru­ly pro­le­tar­i­an art, the great Eng­lish lit­er­ary crit­ic William Emp­son once wrote, “the rea­son an Eng­lish audi­ence can enjoy Russ­ian pro­pa­gan­dist films is that the pro­pa­gan­da is too remote to be annoy­ing.” Per­haps this is why Amer­i­can artists and bohemi­ans have so often tak­en to the polit­i­cal iconog­ra­phy of far-flung regimes, in ways both roman­tic and iron­ic. One nation’s tedious social­ist real­ism is another’s rad­i­cal exot­i­ca.

But do U.S. cul­tur­al exports have the same effect? One need only look at the suc­cess of our most banal brand­ing over­seas to answer in the affir­ma­tive. Yet no one would think to add Abstract Expres­sion­ist paint­ing to a list that includes fast food and Walt Dis­ney prod­ucts. Nev­er­the­less, the work of such artists as Jack­son Pol­lock, Mark Rothko, and Willem de Koon­ing wound up as part of a secret CIA pro­gram dur­ing the height of the Cold War, aimed at pro­mot­ing Amer­i­can ideals abroad.

The artists them­selves were com­plete­ly unaware that their work was being used as pro­pa­gan­da. On what agents called a “long leash,” they par­tic­i­pat­ed in sev­er­al exhi­bi­tions secret­ly orga­nized by the CIA, such as “The New Amer­i­can Paint­ing” (see cat­a­log cov­er at top), which vis­it­ed major Euro­pean cities in 1958–59 and includ­ed such mod­ern prim­i­tive works as sur­re­al­ist William Baziotes’ 1947 Dwarf (below) and 1951’s Tour­na­ment by Adolph Got­tlieb above.

Of course what seems most bizarre about this turn of events is that avant-garde art in Amer­i­ca has nev­er been much appre­ci­at­ed by the aver­age cit­i­zen, to put it mild­ly. Amer­i­can Main Streets har­bor under­cur­rents of dis­trust or out­right hatred for out-there, art-world exper­i­men­ta­tion, a trend that fil­ters upward and peri­od­i­cal­ly erupts in con­tro­ver­sies over Con­gres­sion­al fund­ing for the arts. A 1995 Inde­pen­dent arti­cle on the CIA’s role in pro­mot­ing Abstract Expres­sion­ism describes these atti­tudes dur­ing the Cold War peri­od:

In the 1950s and 1960s… the great major­i­ty of Amer­i­cans dis­liked or even despised mod­ern art—President Tru­man summed up the pop­u­lar view when he said: “If that’s art, then I’m a Hot­ten­tot.” As for the artists them­selves, many were ex- com­mu­nists bare­ly accept­able in the Amer­i­ca of the McCarthyite era, and cer­tain­ly not the sort of peo­ple nor­mal­ly like­ly to receive US gov­ern­ment back­ing.

Why, then, did they receive such back­ing? One short answer:

This philis­tin­ism, com­bined with Joseph McCarthy’s hys­ter­i­cal denun­ci­a­tions of all that was avant-garde or unortho­dox, was deeply embar­rass­ing. It dis­cred­it­ed the idea that Amer­i­ca was a sophis­ti­cat­ed, cul­tur­al­ly rich democ­ra­cy.

The one-way rela­tion­ship between mod­ernist painters and the CIA—only recent­ly con­firmed by for­mer case offi­cer Don­ald Jameson—supposedly enabled the agency to make the work of Sovi­et Social­ist Real­ists appear, in Jameson’s words, “even more styl­ized and more rigid and con­fined than it was.” (See Evdokiya Usikova’s 1959 Lenin with Vil­lagers below, for exam­ple). For a longer expla­na­tion, read the full arti­cle at The Inde­pen­dent. It’s the kind of sto­ry Don DeLil­lo would cook up.

 

William Emp­son goes on to say that “a Tory audi­ence sub­ject­ed to Tory pro­pa­gan­da of the same inten­si­ty” as Russ­ian imports, “would be extreme­ly bored.” If he is cor­rect, it’s like­ly that the aver­age true believ­er social­ist in Europe was already bored sil­ly by Sovi­et-approved art. What sur­pris­es in these rev­e­la­tions is that the avant-garde works that so rad­i­cal­ly altered the Amer­i­can art world and enraged the aver­age con­gress­man and tax­pay­er were co-opt­ed and col­lect­ed by suave U.S. intel­li­gence offi­cers like so many Shep­ard Fairey posters.

via Kot­tke

Relat­ed Con­tent:

Jack­son Pol­lock 51: Short Film Shows the Painter Cre­at­ing Abstract Expres­sion­ist Art

Take a Vir­tu­al Tour of the 1913 Exhi­bi­tion That Intro­duced Avant-Garde Art to Amer­i­ca

MoMA Puts Pol­lock, Rothko & de Koon­ing on Your iPad

Rauschen­berg Eras­es De Koon­ing

Josh Jones is a writer and musi­cian based in Wash­ing­ton, DC. Fol­low him @jdmagness

History Declassified: New Archive Reveals Once-Secret Documents from World Governments

che and Zhou Enlai

In the ear­ly ’90s, the so-called “Iron Archives” of Russ­ian polit­i­cal doc­u­ments from the Cold War era opened up to his­to­ri­ans, shed­ding light on the ear­li­est days of Mao Zedong and Joseph Stalin’s diplo­mat­ic alliance.

But not all of the Russ­ian doc­u­ments were declas­si­fied at that time. The Woodrow Wil­son Inter­na­tion­al Cen­ter for Schol­ars has launched a new dig­i­tal archive con­tain­ing recent­ly declas­si­fied mate­ri­als from some 100 dif­fer­ent inter­na­tion­al col­lec­tions, includ­ing a cable Mao sent to Com­man­der Fil­ip­pov (Stalin’s alias) eager­ly detail­ing his plans to study Rus­sia and com­plain­ing about his poor health.

The sub­se­quent exchange between the two world lead­ers is as banal as their lat­er cor­re­spon­dence would be ide­o­log­i­cal. Mao sug­gests, once his health improves, that they use the aero­drome in Weix­i­an for his depar­ture and he includes the exact dimen­sions of the land­ing strip. One won­ders whether Oba­ma and Israeli Pres­i­dent Shi­mon Peres worked so close­ly togeth­er on trav­el details for their meet­ings in March.

The details con­tained in the thou­sands of cables, telegrams and mem­os are part of the fun. Oth­er doc­u­ments exchanged between the KGB chair­man and East Ger­man Min­is­ter in July, 1981 include blunt lan­guage about the dif­fi­cul­ties of read­ing the Rea­gan Administration’s inten­tions and the impor­tance of quash­ing the Pol­ish Sol­i­dar­i­ty Move­ment.

Because the world’s biggest issues tend to have long roots, there is a lot of mate­r­i­al here that echoes today’s head­lines. Here, the Sovi­et Min­is­ter of For­eign Affairs records a 1958 memo about his assess­ment of North Korea’s plans for a nuclear pro­gram.

Dur­ing a 1960 glob­al com­mu­nist del­e­ga­tion meet­ing, Mao Zedong spoke at length with Che Gue­vara about sug­ar sales, Amer­i­can influ­ence and counter-rev­o­lu­tion­ar­ies.

As a side note, the Wil­son Cen­ter is a one of the more intel­lec­tu­al memo­ri­als to an Amer­i­can pres­i­dent. Woodrow Wil­son was, after all, the only Pres­i­dent of the Unit­ed States to hold a Ph.D. The Cen­ter is one of the world’s top think tanks, with research and projects focused on U.S.-Russia rela­tions, the Mid­dle East, North Korea and, odd­ly, emerg­ing nan­otech­nolo­gies. But, of course, the Wil­son Cen­ter is more known for its cen­trist analy­sis of inter­na­tion­al diplo­ma­cy issues.

The new dig­i­tal archive (whose tagline is “Inter­na­tion­al His­to­ry Declas­si­fied”) offers sev­er­al ways to search: by place, year (begin­ning with1938) or sub­ject. For schol­ars or his­to­ry buffs, this is a trove worth brows­ing.

Kate Rix writes about edu­ca­tion and dig­i­tal media. Vis­it her web­site: .

Hear the Voice of Alexander Graham Bell for the First Time in a Century

graham bell

In the past, we’ve brought you sound record­ings from the 19th cen­tu­ry — record­ings that recap­ture the long lost voic­es of fig­ures likes Walt Whit­man, Alfred Lord Ten­nyson, William Glad­stone, Tchaikovsky, and Thomas Edi­son. Now, thanks to the “dra­mat­ic appli­ca­tion of dig­i­tal tech­nol­o­gy,” the Smith­son­ian brings you (quite fit­ting­ly) the lost voice of the tele­phone’s inven­tor, Alexan­der Gra­ham Bell. Accord­ing to biog­ra­ph­er Char­lotte Gray, Bell record­ed his voice onto discs while con­duct­ing sound exper­i­ments between 1880 and 1886. Although the discs remained in the Smith­so­ni­an’s pos­ses­sion for decades, researchers lacked the tech­ni­cal abil­i­ty to play them back, and Bel­l’s voice went “mute” until Carl Haber, a sci­en­tist at the Lawrence Berke­ley Nation­al Lab­o­ra­to­ry, fig­ured out how to take high res­o­lu­tions scans of the discs and con­vert them into playable audio files. That’s what you can hear below. In the short record­ing dat­ed April 15, 1885, the inven­tor declares: “Hear my voice — Alexan­der Gra­ham Bell.”

H/T Mal­colm; audio via The Atlantic

Relat­ed Con­tent: 

Voic­es from the 19th Cen­tu­ry: Ten­nyson, Glad­stone, Whit­man & Tchaikovsky

Thomas Edi­son Recites “Mary Had a Lit­tle Lamb” in Ear­ly Voice Record­ing

Hear the Only Sur­viv­ing Record­ing of Woolf’s Voice

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The History of Coffee and How It Transformed Our World

coffee plantation

Like so many dai­ly comestibles we com­plete­ly take for grant­ed—salt, sug­ar, and (far few­er of us) tobac­co—cof­fee has a long and often bru­tal his­to­ry. And like many of these sub­stances, it tends to be addic­tive. But cof­fee has also inspired a long­stand­ing social tra­di­tion that shows no signs of ever going out of fash­ion. It’s a drug that makes us thinky and chat­ty and socia­ble (I for one don’t speak a human lan­guage until I’ve had my first cup). It’s these con­tra­dic­tions of cof­fee history—its com­plic­i­ty in slave economies and the Enlight­en­ment pub­lic square—that Mark Pen­der­grast takes on in his new book Uncom­mon Grounds: The His­to­ry of Cof­fee and How It Trans­formed Our World. Pen­der­grast puts it this way:

One of the ironies about cof­fee is it makes peo­ple think. It sort of cre­ates egal­i­tar­i­an places — cof­fee­hous­es where peo­ple can come togeth­er — and so the French Rev­o­lu­tion and the Amer­i­can Rev­o­lu­tion were planned in cof­fee­hous­es. On the oth­er hand, that same cof­fee that was fuel­ing the French Rev­o­lu­tion was also being pro­duced by African slaves who had been tak­en to San­to Domin­go, which we now know as Haiti.

In the inter­view above with NPR’s “Morn­ing Edi­tion,” Pen­der­grast explains his inter­est in cof­fee his­to­ry as a way to look at the “rela­tion­ship between the have-nots and the haves.” His inves­ti­ga­tion is anoth­er for­ay into the hun­dreds of years of Euro­pean colo­nial his­to­ry that gave us both mas­sive glob­al inequal­i­ty and Star­bucks on every cor­ner. Lis­ten to the short inter­view, read Pendergrast’s book, and the next time you get thinky over cof­fee, you may just think a lot about how cof­fee shaped the world.

H/T Kim L.

Relat­ed Con­tent:

The Pod­cast His­to­ry of Our World Will Take You From Cre­ation Myths to (Even­tu­al­ly) the Present Day

The His­to­ry of the World in 46 Lec­tures From Colum­bia Uni­ver­si­ty

“The Vertue of the COFFEE Drink”: London’s First Cafe Cre­ates Ad for Cof­fee in the 1650s

Every­thing You Want­ed to Know About Cof­fee in Three Min­utes

Josh Jones is a writer and musi­cian based in Wash­ing­ton, DC. Fol­low him @jdmagness

Fascinating Kodachrome Footage of “Victory over Japan Day” in Honolulu, 1945

When Field Mar­shal Wil­helm Kei­t­el signed Nazi Ger­many’s uncon­di­tion­al sur­ren­der on May 8, 1945 in Berlin (footage here), the Sec­ond World War may have been over for Europe, but the war on the Pacif­ic front waged on as Japan refused to sur­ren­der. Only after the fate­ful deci­sion to drop atom­ic bombs on Hiroshi­ma and Nagasa­ki, and after the Sovi­ets invad­ed Japan­ese-held Manchuria, did Emper­or Hiro­hi­to accept the hope­less­ness of the sit­u­a­tion and agree to sur­ren­der on August 15. When the offi­cial radio announce­ment (record­ing here) was broad­cast — due to time zone dif­fer­ences on August 14 in the U.S. — the news spread like wild­fire and the day became known as “Vic­to­ry over Japan Day”, or sim­ply as “VJ Day.” Spon­ta­neous cel­e­bra­tions erupt­ed all over the Unit­ed States, but espe­cial­ly on Hawaii, where the Japan­ese attacked Pearl Har­bor on Decem­ber 7, 1941 lead­ing the US to offi­cial­ly enter World War II.

One of these spon­ta­neous cel­e­bra­tions in Hon­olu­lu was cap­tured on Kodachrome 16mm film and has been dig­i­tal­ly restored. One com­menter on Vimeo has iden­ti­fied all of the exact loca­tions here.

By pro­fes­sion, Matthias Rasch­er teach­es Eng­lish and His­to­ry at a High School in north­ern Bavaria, Ger­many. In his free time he scours the web for good links and posts the best finds on Twit­ter.

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