A comforting ritual
Less than two hours from Paris, nestled between golden-hued forests and peaceful valleys, lies Montfaucon. This small village, with its brown roofs and ocher walls, seems suspended in time. It is here that an old house of blond stone, with faded green shutters, awakens each autumn in a hushed silence, complicit with the seasons.
Weekends there take the form of a slow ritual: wool sweaters, rain boots, impatient dogs bounding through fallen leaves. Walks always end by the fireplace, where a steaming teapot awaits on the large farmhouse table. The familiar aromas already fill the room: cinnamon, warm wood, candied fruits. And outside, the wind hums against the windows.
Andrea's Saturdays
Every year, Andrea, our tea creator, returns to Montfaucon as the first cold weather approaches. He leaves the bustling streets of the capital to find what soothes and inspires him: wooded paths, old walls, copper pots hanging in his kitchen, books piled by the fireplace, and his dogs, always curled up in a ball, faithful guardians of tranquility.
In the house, time stretches out. A rustic tart warms on the dresser, quince and orange jams simmer over low heat. A basket overflows with bruised apples, fresh walnuts, and chestnuts gathered the day before. It is this taste of country and memory that Andrea wanted to capture in this cozy tea:
• chestnut, which he slips into the embers;
• cinnamon, an accomplice to his Saturday night rice pudding;
• blood orange, the first citrus of winter that he squeezes in the early morning.
From this sweet nostalgia, Une Journée à la Campagne was born: a tea like a refuge, a full and caressing liquor, where the murmur of the fire, the sweetness of fruits, and the warmth of a knitted garment intertwine.
