C{hai} There!

Morning ritual or an excuse to invite nostalgia!?

A stainless steel pot sits over the dancing blue halo of flames as I add water to it. I wait for the beginning of a dance party of bubbles. That's my cue to add a flavor ingredient of choice. In summers it could be sweet smelling Cardamom or fresh Mint leaves from my garden. Winter's usually call for something with extra heat so I go with Ginger or Cloves.

Photo by Mohammad Amiri on Unsplash

But if the weather outside is anything like this morning, the air swell with moisture, and a yard full of little bouquets made of fallen leaves and branches to greet me. I prefer a specially aromatic and delicate spice; Saffron.

I watch ensnared as the water turns amber, moving into orange hues as it continues to bubble along with a few strands of Turkish saffron.

Little fumes of steam make their way to my nostrils and I'm instantly taken back to the swarming bazaars of my home town; bursting at the seams with people and food alike.

I methodically measure 2 tablespoons of tea leaves and drop them in the pot to be devoured by the frothing liquid that takes them into it's amber depths. I leave them alone to mingle and infuse, while I let my first thoughts of the day loose. Once I've managed to capture some/any on my notepad, I head back to the pot and find a brew the color of deep copper.

I add a cup and a half of milk along with sugar and watch it swirl. The dark liquid marbleizing into a galaxy light years away from our own.

As assimilation works it's magic, the entire brew accepts a golden caramel tone.

It arrives at a boil and it's at that moment, the air in my kitchen starts to boast of a toasty, steamy, sweet smelling ritual. Because what is "Chai" if not a ceremonious celebration of my culture.

A tradition of stolen memories with loved ones from a season of life that craved adventure.

I send the flame back into oblivion and strain the steaming goodness into 2 oversize mugs.

My mornings are lacking without it just like making Chai is incomplete without echoes from another life that invigorate me like warm hugs.

Photo by Dhruval Upadhyay on Unsplash

Until next time,

Yours Truly,

Zahra.G