Since I started sharing my tea recipes here, the way I make tea has changed. It’s always been spontaneous and has grown to be even more so. I almost never measure-out my tea, and except for the recipes I create for this blog, I hardly record my tea recipes. It feels more of an adventure when I stumble upon a taste I had tasted previously. Because of these reasons, sharing recipes here has been feeling off. Thus I’m bring my tea ceremony here to a close. This shall be my last recipe.

Right!
So for the Orange-Lemongrass Herbal Tea you’ll need (for a 16 ounces pot of tea):

Lemongrass: 1 tbs
Dried orange peel: About 1 tsp 
Fresh or dried ginger: 1 tsp 
Cardamom: 3 pods  
Black Pepper: 7-10 peppercorns  
Cinnamon: About an inch 
[You may want to increase the ingredients if you are steeping or steep longer, and not boiling your tea]

Crush cardamom pods, cinnamon, and ginger. Mix all ingredients and place them into your dry teapot or a dry saucepan. “Roast” or stir the tea in the pot on low heat for about 1-2 minutes without any water until you can smell–without effort–the roasted fragrance of the tea in your space.

Please be careful as the tea can burn easily without your undivided attention.

Turn off the heat; pour the tea into an infuser; place the tea & infuser back into the pot, and the pot back on the heat. Add water and leave on heat until the tea is about to boil. Take tea off heat.

Note: The “roasting step” is slightly tricky and you may omit it, but doing so will generate a different tasting tea.

When your tea is ready: light, golden, fragrant, and spicy be sure to serve hot and take your time drinking it. Please give it your undivided attention. See what your tastebuds and other senses make of your orange-lemongrass herbal blend.

Should you need something to contemplate while savoring your tea, here’s one of my favorite poems by Gwendolyn Brooks:

The Preacher Ruminates Behind the Sermon 
by Gwendolyn Brooks 

I think it must be lonely to be God. 
Nobody loves a master. No. Despite 
The bright hosannas, bright dear-Lords, and bright 
Determined reverence of Sunday eyes. 

Picture Jehovah striding through the hall 
Of His importance, creatures running out 
From servant-corners to acclaim, to shout 
Appreciation of His merit's glare. 

But who walks with Him?––dares to take His arm, 
To slap Him on the shoulder, tweak His ear, 
Buy Him a Coca-Cola or a beer, 
Pooh-pooh His politics, call Him a fool? 

Perhaps––who knows?––He tires of looking down.  
Those eyes are never lifted. Never straight. 
Perhaps sometimes He tires of being great 
In solitude. Without a hand to hold. 

---  

I hope you’ve enjoyed this STEEPING series.

Enjoy your tea!

Xx

Jane