Evening tea

My evening cup of tea is a ritual. I don’t like being hurried. I don’t like interruptions and I don’t like doing anything else during those few minutes. My morning tea is rarely savoured as I never have the time to relax in the mornings. I am lazy and would rather spend an extra ten minutes in bed than get up precisely on the dot and start my day. So morning tea is usually gulped down while having breakfast which in turn is consumed in haste so that the children can be woken up and readied for school.

In the evenings or rather afternoons before the kids come home, I have the time to have my little tea ritual. I love watching the colour of the boiling water turn a deep reddish brown as I scoop in the tea leaves and then the loss of that colour when I add the milk. Depending on my moods I add flavour. On days when I feel a little tired or I have a sore throat, I add some grated ginger. When I feel in need of a lift, I add cloves. When I want to relax after a stressful morning, I add cardamom. Different tastes for different days. My tea always reflects my moods.

I cannot abide the insipid taste of tea made with teabags. It has no zing and no excitement at all. I also am not one of those “only steep never boil” connoisseurs who use Darjeeling or some other equally pricey and delicate tea. Mine is an old-fashioned robust tea. The kind that is not found in any restaurant or coffee shop anywhere in the world - only at home – the kind that cannot be replicated.

Having made my tea, I sit down in a comfortable nook with my legs folded under me to sip it slowly. I need to have it very hot – not tepid. The very first sip caresses the inside of my throat and slides down leaving a trail of warmth all the way to my belly. The aroma of the spice of choice adds to the pleasure. Every subsequent sip warms me up more till I am cocooned in a feeling of comfort and well-being. Such an ordinary ritual but for me, it is one I simply cannot do without.