There is a long list of things I would like to write about. I still owe you guys a post about pumpkin beer (we're looking at next fall, at this rate, since pumpkin beer is pretty much irrelevant now); also, having parents with aging parents; how tough it is to start something new without solid leadership; and going out to dinner with people who can't split a check. All issues conscientious recent college graduates like myself probably think about... But let's be real: the latest baby steps have been pretty heavy. They're starting to leave dinosaur footprints in my psyche.
If you read Sunday's All Good Things, you'll know that I was in Baltimore over the weekend, and that I went to an Indian buffet for lunch on Sunday (#5 on the list). While I thoroughly enjoyed the meal, the part I was most excited about was the "Nepali tea" (called chia if you find it in Nepal) in one of those big industrial plastic dispensers. Number 5 mostly made the list for my mom's benefit, and sure enough, I got a text message saying, "About the Nepali chia. I'm jealous!"
My mom just revamped her blog, which is now called, "Hot Tea at Dawn." This title was the agonized result of a series of conversations and thought processes, trying to capture a journey, a lifelong journey embodied by a hike, where you get up early-early and have a steaming cup of tea that will hold you over until midmorning, when you stop again for a meal, and then continue hiking for a few more hours until a midday rest, and on 'til the next camp at dusk. And that morning cup of tea is your greeting to the dawn, and the dawn's to you, the anticipation of an entire twelve hours somehow encapsulated by the wisps of steam curling out of the cup and warming your hands and your face and your throat all at once.
You might recall that I have started a new project of being early to things: early to work, early to the gym, early to bed. Since my latest conversation with my mom about the blog, almost two weeks ago, I've been making even more of a conscious effort to actually enjoy a cup of tea every morning. This involves setting my alarm a little earlier and getting out of bed faster; it means not dawdling in front of the mirror or in front of my closet so I can dawdle over the kitchen table, the tea, and NPR instead. It means spending an extra dollar on a box of tea I will actually enjoy, and not getting distracted and leaving the tea so long it starts to get cold, or it steeps too long and gets too strong.
So back to Kumari (the Indian buffet -- highly recommended). The four of us made a pass at the buffet, but at the end we spent a long time sitting at the table, talking and eating kheer rice pudding and drinking tea. I could hardly bring myself to set the cup down, I was so excited. I remembered, when I didn't have to make the tea, boil the water with the spices and add the sugar and boil and add the milk and boil and then let the tea steep and then strain it and then drink it, how calming and energizing it is at the same time. I need this. I think I actually said it out loud. I need to write a blog about this.
A couple of friends of mine are currently traveling in the U.K., and the photo documentation of their trips as it appears on my Facebook and Instagram news feeds throughout the day is pretty stellar. There was a picture in a London cafe, and better yet, a picture of "proper high tea." I am really jealous of this tea tradition. It's like the recently abolished siesta (institutionalized "naptime"/rest hour) in many Latin American countries. At boarding school in India, we had a 15-minute tea break every morning between our classes, and lunch halfway through the day, and then tea after school.
But here? We just snack at our desks, and take working lunches.
This morning I finished the snacks I had stashed in my desk drawer, fortunately, because now I will not replace them and I will stop snacking compulsively at work. So, since I was still feeling fidgety and had already chewed a quarter of a pack of gum, I drank two or three extra cups of tea throughout the day.
It gets me up from my desk, first of all, it's a low-sugar snack (unless I load it with honey, which I have mostly stopped doing since I was thoroughly ridiculed by my mom and Alex at the Whistling Kettle back in the day), and some types of tea supposedly have other health or mental benefits as well. There's the vanilla spice energy tea which allegedly energizes the body and focuses the mind; the rooibos chai which is revitalizing and stress-relieving; green tea has antioxidants; chamomile soothes (and knocks some people right out).
Last week we took a business trip and we stopped at Starbucks to recharge after our drive. I ordered a Refresh Mint tea and a banana, and in the car my boss turned around and said, "What is that smell?!" When I told him I was drinking mint tea, he said, "Oh, that is my favorite kind! I always get that." And I said I self-medicate with peppermint tea all the time. Tired? Have a peppermint tea. Feeling queasy? Peppermint. Too wired at bedtime? Headache? Cramps? Sore muscles? Thirsty? Peppermint, peppermint, peppermint!
So, tomorrow is Thursday, and every Thursday my mom comes over to my house after work and we drink tea and sit for an hour and a half and talk until I leave for Zumba and she catches a ride or catches the bus home. Tea has always been a common point for my mom and I, a conduit and an excuse for us to spend time together. If I got anything from her, it was to value slowing down for a minute, and to allow or sometimes force myself to do so. And if we get anything from tea, it's this.
As Lisa said at the buffet this weekend, you can't rush a cup of tea. You have to let it steep. You can't throw it back; you have to sip it, because it's hot. Sipping leads to savoring, and savoring leads to happiness. The formula is that simple.
I'm excited for summer to come, for the return of the sun, harbinger of sun tea! In gigantic pickle jars now catching the light with a color that can only come from the earth: hazel, honey-colored, rum-colored. Rich and smooth and warm -- the color of flavor, the color of time. The color of tea.
And now, it's time for dinner and for date night and for perhaps this day's final cup of tea, #5: Sleepytime.
:)
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