Masala Chai — The Period at the End of Every Perfect Evening

Valentine's Day week. Raj bought me flowers — a dozen red roses, because Raj Patel is a man of traditional romantic gestures performed with mild embarrassment, as if the flowers are doing something slightly inappropriate by being beautiful. "Happy Valentine's Day," he said, holding the bouquet like evidence. "You got me flowers." "Yes." "You hate Valentine's Day." "I hate the commercialization of Valentine's Day. The flowers are separate." I put them in a vase on the kitchen counter, next to the wet grinder. Roses and rice batter. Romance and rasam. This is my life. We went out for dinner — a rare event in the Patel-Krishnamurthy household, where eating food prepared by strangers is viewed with suspicion by both families. Raj chose a Japanese restaurant in New Brunswick because he's been on a sushi kick lately, and I went along because I'm trying to be the kind of person who doesn't evaluate every restaurant against Amma's kitchen. (I fail at this regularly.) The sushi was excellent. I had a spicy tuna roll that made me rethink my relationship with raw fish, and Raj had an omakase that came with approximately fifteen tiny, beautiful courses, each one more aesthetically perfect than the last. I took photos of every dish because I am my generation's cliché and I'm not sorry. What struck me about Japanese food — what always strikes me — is the discipline. Indian cooking is abundance: more spices, more layers, more food, more everything. Japanese cooking is restraint: one perfect slice, one precise temperature, one clean flavor. Both are correct. Both are masterful. They just have different philosophies about what food should do. I want to learn to cook Japanese food. Not to replace Indian cooking — never that — but to add another language to my culinary vocabulary. The idea of precise knife cuts and clean flavors and beautiful simplicity appeals to the part of me that lives in a kitchen full of thirty-two spice jars and controlled chaos. Back home, I made chai. Because no dinner, however magnificent, is complete without chai. It's the period at the end of the sentence. The final note. Raj drank his with two sugars and told me about a patient who brought him homemade baklava, and I drank mine with too much ginger and thought about the baby we're trying to make, and outside the apartment the February cold pressed against the windows and inside was warm and sweet and ours. Prenatal vitamins are on the kitchen counter now, next to the roses. Both are acts of faith.

That night, standing at the stove with February pressing against the windows, I made the chai the way I always do — heavy on the ginger, because if the spice doesn’t announce itself, what’s the point? After fifteen perfect little courses of Japanese restraint, my kitchen wanted its answer: abundance, warmth, a pot of something that fills the whole apartment with the smell of cardamom and home. This is the recipe. The period at the end of every sentence worth writing.

Masala Chai

Prep Time: 5 minutes | Cook Time: 10 minutes | Total Time: 15 minutes | Servings: 2

Ingredients

• 1 1/2 cups water
• 1 cup whole milk
• 2 tablespoons loose black tea leaves (Assam or CTC)
• 1-inch piece fresh ginger, peeled and roughly crushed
• 4 green cardamom pods, lightly crushed
• 1 small cinnamon stick
• 4 whole black peppercorns
• 2 whole cloves
• 2 to 3 teaspoons sugar, or to taste

Instructions

1. Crush the spices. Using a mortar and pestle or the flat side of a knife, lightly crush the cardamom pods, peppercorns, and cloves to release their oils. Crush the ginger just enough to break the fibers.
2. Boil the water and spices. In a small saucepan, combine the water, ginger, cardamom, cinnamon stick, peppercorns, and cloves. Bring to a rolling boil over medium-high heat, then reduce to medium and let the spices simmer for 3 minutes.
3. Add the tea. Stir in the loose tea leaves and let them brew at a gentle boil for 2 minutes, until the water turns deep reddish-brown.
4. Pour in the milk. Add the milk and sugar. Increase the heat to medium-high and bring the chai back to a boil, watching carefully as it will rise quickly. When it foams up, reduce heat and let it simmer for 2 minutes, stirring occasionally.
5. Boil and settle. Let the chai rise to a boil once more for a stronger, creamier flavor, then remove from heat immediately.
6. Strain and serve. Pour through a fine-mesh strainer into two cups. Serve immediately while it’s still steaming.

Nutrition (per serving)

Calories: 95 | Protein: 4g | Fat: 4g | Carbs: 12g | Fiber: 0g | Sodium: 55mg