在乡间品一碗情意浓浓的阿婆茶

说起下午茶，大部分人会将之与英国文化相联系，英国下午茶习俗最早出现在19世纪，然而，可能很少人知道，中国本土的下午茶至少可以追溯至700年前，而且至今流传在民间。

这是一个周五的下午，在上海青浦区商榻村的朱慧宝家中，大约20名奶奶们相聚一堂。

这些平均年龄在75岁的奶奶们身着蓝色印花布，边喝茶边吃点心，顺带着聊聊家常，这是青浦商榻地区的传统习俗，它有着一个亲切的名字——阿婆茶。

“来来来，坐下来一道吃茶。”70岁的朱慧宝奶奶热情地邀请我加入她们。

区别于英式午茶的“三部曲”——三明治、甜点和司康饼，阿婆茶的点心则更加接地气，有自制的腌黄瓜、咸菜、瓜子、水煮栗子、奶奶自己种的红薯、哈密瓜以及当地特产塌饼，这些茶点围绕着一个青花瓷大茶壶放置。

“趁热吃。”朱慧宝奶奶像我的祖母一般对我说道。

“塌饼主要是用面粉和南瓜叶做成的，将它们拌匀之后放在油锅里炸，最后再涂上厚厚的糖浆。”

关于阿婆茶的起源，流传着许多传说。

其中一个传说是与一位神秘的阿婆有关，她在山上种了许多茶树，每到采茶季节，她总与村民们分享茶叶，为了纪念她，村民们便以阿婆茶来命名吃茶的传统，并代代相传。

另一个流传较为广泛的说法是与清朝乾隆皇帝有关，他曾带着几名侍卫在一个炎热的夏日到访青浦商榻地区，他们口干舌燥，精疲力竭，正巧看到一群阿婆们正津津有味地喝着茶、磕着瓜子，于是乾隆皇帝便对着她们说“阿婆，茶！”阿婆们并不知道他的身份，但依旧将茶与他们分享，乾隆皇帝连连道谢。

无论这些传说的真实性如何，可以肯定的是，“和睦”一直是阿婆茶的文化精髓。

“我们村的邻里关系很好的，没有什么矛盾是阿婆茶解决不了的。”朱慧宝奶奶说道。

在商榻村，阿婆们轮流在家中举办下午茶会，每一位阿婆都会精心准备茶点。

阿婆们所泡的茶叶并没有什么特别的，它可以是红茶、绿茶或者白茶，对于奶奶们来说，重要的是聚会本身，她们非常享受于彼此的陪伴。

在过去，村里的男人们出去下地干活，女人则留在家中用稻草编织虾笼，以此来填补家庭收入。为了给单调的生活增添趣味，女人们选择围坐在一起边做手工边谈笑，累了、渴了就喝喝茶、吃吃茶点。

现在，虽然生活水平提高了，妇女们不再需要通过做虾笼来维持生计，但“吃茶”仍然是她们生活中不可缺少的一部分。孩子们纷纷离开村子到大城市工作，阿婆茶对她们来说显得更为重要。

阿婆茶是一种质朴的社交方式，相熟的老姐妹们互相分享八卦、烦恼、欢乐和忧伤，阿婆茶为她们构建起了一条紧密的社会纽带。

“到了春天，我们经常边喝阿婆茶边聊种地。比如，什么时候开始播种？大家种什么菜？”朱慧宝说道。

在朱奶奶家门前，有一个烧了发黑的大水壶，它被放置在一个用泥巴和稻草做成的炉子上。朱奶奶用树枝和竹子来生火，她告诉我，用这种传统方式烧出来的水泡茶，喝上去味道更好。可是岁数大了，何必这么辛苦呢？奶奶们现在都改用电热水壶烧水了。

长期以来，阿婆茶在当地民俗文化中扮演着重要的角色，它被运用于婚礼、订婚仪式、生日、满月酒、高考中榜、春节和造新房等具有特殊意义的场合中。

吃完阿婆茶后，村里的奶奶们唱起了一首当地的民歌，歌中抒发了她们对阿婆茶这项传统文化的喜爱。

“我们喜欢唱歌、跳舞，如果有人能邀请我们去表演，我们会非常高兴，我们特别希望能向外国朋友分享我们的传统文化。”朱慧宝说道。

临别之际，奶奶们用仅会的几个英语单词向我道别：“Hello，”“Bye Bye，”以及“三克油（Thank You）。”

Serving up camaraderie with a cup of tea

Most people tend to think of afternoon tea as a quintessential British custom that first appeared in the 19th century. Few may know that a China version can be traced back at least 700 years, and the tradition is not lost.

It is a Friday afternoon in the outlying Shanghai district of Qingpu. A group of around 20 older women is gathered at Zhu Huibao's home in Shangta Village.

Dressed in blue calico, the women, averaging 75 years old, chat amid tea and snacks. The social custom has a charming name – apo tea, or "grandma's tea."

"Come, come, sit down and eat," says 70-year-old Zhu, as she warmly invites me to join them.

Instead of a three-tiered tray of cucumber sandwiches, cakes and scones with clotted cream, grandma's tea serves up local specialties. Plates on a lazy Susan are filled with homemade pickled cucumber, salted vegetables, steamed sweet potato from Zhu's garden, fried sunflower seeds, boiled chestnuts, sliced Hami melon and tabing, a sweet, juicy cake. The centerpiece is a big blue and white teapot.

"Eat tabing while it is still warm," Zhu says, reminding me of my grandmother's words. "The snack is mainly made of flour and pumpkin leaves. They are mixed together, fried and coated with a thick sugar syrup."

There are many legends associated with the origins of grandma's tea.

One involves a mysterious grandmother who planted tea trees on a mountainside and always shared her tea with villagers. In memory of her, the villagers named the tradition of having afternoon tea after her, and it was passed on down generations.

Another popular legend has it that Emperor Qianlong of the Qing Dynasty (1644-1911) once visited Shangta on a scorching day, flanked by bodyguards. Thirsty and tired, the procession came upon a group of elderly women sitting around sipping tea together and eating sunflower seeds.

Longing for a drink and using the word for "granny," the emperor cried out, "Apo, tea!" The women, not knowing his identify, provided him with drink, and he thanked them profusely.

Regardless of the credibility of the legends, it's certain that harmony has been always the fundamental principle of grandma's tea.

"The neighborhood relationship in our village is very good," says Zhu. "There are no conflicts that can't be resolved over grandma's tea."

Lacking a teahouse, the village women take turns hosting the afternoon tea party. Every hostess carefully prepares for the refreshments, though the fare is pretty standardized.

The tea itself is nothing special. It can be black tea, green tea or white tea. What is important is the get-together itself. The women seem to revel in the simplicity of the moment and in the company of one another.

In the past, the men in the village went out to work in the fields while women stayed home to weave straw shrimp cages to supplement family income. To spice up their somewhat monotonous life, the women gathered together to do handiwork while chatting, drinking tea and eating snacks.

Although living standards have improved and the women no longer make straw cages, the afternoon tea has remained an indispensable part of their life, especially after so many children grew up and left the village to see their fortunes in the big city.

Afternoon tea is a rustic form of social networking. The women share gossip, problems, joys and sorrows. Theirs is a tight social bond.

"In spring, we often talk about farming," says Zhu. "For example, when to sow seeds and what kind of vegetable to plant."

In front of Zhu's house, a large kettle with a blackened bottom sits on a traditional stove made of mud and straw. Zhu uses pieces of branches and bamboo to light a fire. The women tell me that water heated in this traditional way makes better tea. But when you are old, why bother with such hard work? The elderly women now use an electric kettle instead.

Grandma's tea has long played a significant role in local rituals. It is served on occasions like weddings, engagement parties, birthdays, baby showers, college exam success, Chinese New Year and the ceremonies celebrating the building of a new house.

With tea and snacks consumed, the village grandmothers sing a folk song before disbanding. The song refers with fondness to the tea tradition.

"We enjoy singing and dancing," says Zhu. "We would like it if people would invite us to perform. We are especially eager to share our tradition with foreign friends."

The grannies, before leaving, send me off with what little English they know.

"Hello." "Bye-bye." And "three-gram oil," which has a similar Chinese pronunciation with the word "thank you."