As a youngster I hated tea. I associated it with being sick. Because any time I had a cold, or an upset stomach, my mother would make me drink tea. Even having ‘high tea’ in London didn’t turn me into a fan. Loved the scones, the clotted cream, the jam, the cucumber sandwiches, the ‘ceremony’, the pomp, the circumstance, the pretty china, the silver, the Dorchester Hotel. But the tea, itself … not so much.
And then, suddenly, about six or so years ago, I developed a fondness for it. Totally out of the blue. Earl Grey, with a squeeze of lemon and a bit of honey. Ginger honey, preferably. So good. It’s gentle. Calming. It feels like a treat. It has the same effect on me as a lovely, warm bath. It leaves me satisfied, glowing, mellow, slightly drowsy, and feeling cosseted.
There’s a genuine sense of well-being in every cup.
In India I became positively addicted to ginger tea. Also masala tea; and even chai. Once you’ve had tea there, you’re never the same. Aside from the taste, which is exquisite, they Continue reading