Chai tea

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It was another bleak and dreary autumn day today, and when the sun went down there was a real hint of winter in the air.  The sprogs got into their winter jammies and asked for a cup of chai.  So for a bit of a treat I decided to make them a home brewed chai.

This recipe came from an old bohemian friend of mine.  She goes bush every now and then and when she does, living is truly rough.  This chai tea was something she would brew up when she could afford to get into town and buy herself some fresh milk.  She would boil it up over an open fire and fill her biggest mug, and sip it while reading a book by candlelight.  And every now and then she would turn up at my place to have a hot shower, a long chat and a cup of chai that she would make for me with spices that she brought with her.

Recipe

  • 8 cloves
  • 7 cardamon pods
  • 3 sticks cinnamon
  • 2cm knob of ginger roughly chopped
  • 2 1/2 c water
  • 2 1/2 c milk
  • 2 t sugar, or to taste
  • 1 T formosan (not bitter) tea

Boil spices in water for about 15 minutes.  Add milk and sugar, bring back to the boil. Turn heat off and add tea.  Strain into cups. Lovely served with a light sprinkling of ground cinnamon on top.

Cup and saucer from Bormioli Rocco.

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About baking bohemian

My name is Jen and I am the baking bohemian. My blog identity comes from the cultural background of my mother’s family, (Bohemian), and my mother’s more left wing lifestyle (bohemian). The big ‘B’ Bohemian refers to the rich cultural heritage of our family that emigrated from Bohemia when it was still its own country (it now comprises two thirds of the Czech Republic). Food featured prominently in the family and broader social life of that part of my family. No social interaction was without sustenance, and any celebration, large or small, was an invitation to cook up a storm. My own family emigrated from the United States to Australia when I was a child. For the most part we lived with our mother, and my dad eventually moved back to the US. The little ‘b’ bohemian relates to the semi-alternative lifestyle we led with our mother. I hesitate to refer to her as a hippy, for that conjures up so many misconceptions, but certainly she was on that side of the fence. She was probably more eccentric than radical at the end of the day, but she could really cook. We always set extra plates at the dinner table because inevitably people would visit at dinner time. I started cooking when I was about eight. Cookies. Obviously I was motivated by desire! I loved cooking, I loved that the kitchen was always, in every way, the heart of the house, so I was always part of anything else that was happening while I was cooking. I loved people loving my food. With all the different things that I have done in my life and am interested in, food has remained my most consistent and enduring passion.

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