Grains of grogginess stuck in my eyes, I pull myself out of bed, a sleepy cat stretching its limbs. There’s nothing to wake up for, not really, I have nowhere to go but 2 steps away, the computer or the kitchen, or maybe the couch. I resist the sweet beckoning of my still-warm bed to walk out in the chilly September morning.
The first wake-up ritual: washing the night away in the shower. Hot water frees my skin from its sleepy shell. The body wakes up, but my eyes are still filled with groggy sand.
A robot, a zombie, a doll walks to the kitchen and turns the oven dial to “high” with a click. The water in the kettle makes a low hisssss, sign that the heat is already transforming its molecules into vaporous state. She puts her chin in her hands, staring at the dark blue kettle that contains half of her brain.
I reach up above the stove, on tip-toes, to the tin filled with the other half: tea. The spicy cinnamon and cardamom smell of it makes my nose tingle. I sneeze.
My mug is also reached on tip-toes, always just close enough for my short body and tiny hands. I’m always afraid I’ll drop it down to shatter in a million white porcelain pieces.
The honey schlops down into my mug in a thick goo that expands to cover its bottom. I had to press the bottle a few times to encourage the sweet golden liquid down; white-gold crystals are forming at the bottom, turning the honey into a gritty paste. It will require melting soon.
I can always hear it coming: first the low hiss stops and is replaced by the tinny sound of vapor rising the sides of its metal prison. There’s only one way to go: the tiny hole at the top, right there at the end of the tunnel. And the vapor screams a scream of joy as it escapes, suddenly compressed but finally liberated into the air.
I will share in its joy soon, with a little more patience. Water in teapot, lid on teapot. Need to wait just a little more. “6 to 8 minutes in water at 98 degrees.”
I watch as the water turns a beautiful golden brown, the tea leaves and spices expanding and liberating their aroma. I like the strong, sweet taste of black more that the bitter taste of green.
I finally pour the brew into my honey-covered mug, but one last thing is needed before I can enjoy my morning elixir: cold milk, blooming white from a fertile brown soil.
The tea is David’s Tea Organic Saigon Chai. As a teapot, I use their awesome BPA-free steeper which lets you watch as the tea brews, and uses a nifty little valve system at the bottom to pour the tea in your mug, mess-free.You've just read LIVE: Morning chai on Read, Write, Live by Anabelle. Please leave a comment and share your thoughts!