My friend Sahar is a cardamom tea connoisseur. Milky and minty with a bold cardamom profile, her morning sips are robust and comforting.
On a recent visit to her home in Sydney, I studied her technique through my bleary morning fog. Her cardamom teabags are an easy reach from the electric kettle. As the water comes to a boil, she places one or two teabags in her favorite mug. She pulls fresh mint and milk from the refrigerator. She places a small container of cardamom pods on the counter.
When the water reaches a rolling boil, Sahar pours it into her mug, leaving room for milk. She brews a strong cardamom tea, sometimes boosting the flavor by dropping a cardamom pod in the mug. She pinches three or four mint leaves from a branch and slips them into the mug. The tea steeps for several minutes. Before drinking, she adds a splash of milk.
I was thrilled by her cardamom tea ritual, and she sent me home with cardamom teabags and loose tea. Sahar shared Wagh Bakri, Ahmad, and Premier’s Cardamom Tea. I have enjoyed preparing all of these teas à la Sahar. When I make “her” cardamom tea, my mind drifts back to her warm welcome and gentle spirit.
I have made a small adjustment to Sahar’s morning cardamom tea, adding about ½ teaspoon honey to each serving. Sometimes I zap the milk in the microwave for 15 seconds before adding it to the tea. I have also used her method to prepare Masala Chai, a symphony of black tea ginger, cinnamon, cardamom, black and white pepper, clove, and nutmeg. I find the fresh mint to be a lovely addition. This fall, I plan to work up a caffeine-free Sahar tea with this Chai Rooibos Caffeine-Free Infusion.
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I let reading take over this summer. It’s just what I needed. Last summer I was too busy to settle in with my books, only able to squeeze in a few novels here and there. I missed the ease of summer reading and vowed that this year would be different. I have been consuming books!
Life is lush in this Mediterranean village. Located in the south of France mere miles from Spain, Catalan culture pervades Collioure. Tapas, espadrilles, sunshiny wine… People glide between French, Spanish, and Catalan. Vivacious and expressive, they draw me in.
I am sorry to say that Peter was not very well during the evening. His mother put him to bed, and made some camomile tea; and she gave a dose of it to Peter! —The Tale of Peter Rabbit, Beatrix Potter
My little patio garden is bursting. Each year, I tinker with this square space off my kitchen. I’ve learned that it’s too sunny for impatiens and that begonias thrive in the morning sun. Potted herbs always take off, and so each summer I find myself swirling ribbons of basil into gazpacho, stirring mint into lemonade, and topping my green salads with chives.
I travel a little for work and a lot for pleasure. I set out on my own, my journeys bringing me to rainy Edinburgh streets, to the salty French seaside, and to my childhood home in Iowa. Each trip enriches me. I fill my soul with modern art, befriend fellow train passengers, and soak in the places that become part of me.
ge chopsticks for months… two sets lovingly displayed in narrow, silken boxes. I figured the local antique shop wouldn’t sell them right away, so I hemmed and hawed. They definitely weren’t ivory—maybe resin? The floral cloisonné was dainty and delicate. I liked the weight of them in my hands. I slid them back in their case.