If you're British and heading to Mexico for anything longer than a fortnight, one craving will catch up with you faster than you expect: a genuinely good cup of tea. Marmite you can live without, apparently. Tea is different. Mexico's tea shelves lean heavily on the country's own herbal tradition — manzanilla (chamomile), tila (linden flowers), azahar (orange blossom), yerbabuena (spearmint) and limón (lime leaf or lemongrass) fill the aisles in colourful variety. Proper black tea, though? Thin pickings, and often pricier than back home.
The local staples are limited. Lagg's is the most common Mexican-packaged black tea. You might spot imported Lipton here and there, and some bigger supermarkets stock Twinings English Breakfast and Earl Grey in bags. What you'll rarely find, outside lucky one-off deliveries in the fancy goods aisle, is quality whole-leaf loose tea — think Darjeeling or Assam. If you stumble across some, buy it on the spot; there's no promise it will ever be restocked.
There's a consolation prize, though, and it's a genuinely interesting one. The old rule that tea needs water at a rolling 100°C turns out to be a myth, at least according to Henrietta Lovell, founder of London's Rare Tea Company. Her argument: only mass-produced teabags need boiling water. Better whole-leaf teas actually brew best cooler — around 70°C for white teas, 85°C for black. That's handy in Mexico's highlands, where altitude means water boils at lower temperatures anyway. Your kettle's weakness becomes a brewing advantage.
For a regular supply, your best bet is specialist food markets, which sometimes carry imported gourmet brands. Expect to pay a premium — grumbling about the price won't change it. If that fails, most expats settle into one of two strategies: stock up on trips abroad, or add "bring tea" to the instruction list for every visiting friend and relative. Failing all that, there's always coffee — and Mexico's coffee is plentiful, varied and very good.
Who should care? Anyone relocating to Mexico, spending a season there, or simply the kind of traveller whose morning hinges on a proper pot. A little preparation saves a lot of disappointment: know what the supermarkets do and don't carry, be ready to pounce on rare loose-leaf finds, and consider packing a stash in your suitcase. And if all else fails, learning to love manzanilla before bedtime is a perfectly respectable backup plan.
