During my sophomore year of college, I packed my bags and flew to Mumbai.
I didn’t see India at first. I smelled it. Burnt garbage, car exhaust, chicken masala. I was hit with smells as thick as concrete.
Drunkenly, I boarded a bus and called my mother. Unfortunately for her (and the bikers outside the bus), I quickly hung up to expell my half digested dinner to the street below. India: 1 Hannah: 0
At my hostel, I was sweaty from the intense summer humidity; I wanted to collapse. The only thing between me and my bed was a frail man holding a serving tray. He offered me a small container (the size of a disposable ketchup paper cup) filled to the brim with a warm brown liquid. Not wanting to offend my new host, I hesitantly accepted the cup and drank the thimble size beverage. My mouth bursted with flavors, familiar yet foreign. Spicy but creamy. Smoky but sweet. So this was chai. Not the sugary, coma inducing beverage offered at coffee shops across America, but real, authentic, cardomom infused chai. I asked for another cup, closed my eyes, and marianted in the aroma of ginger, cinnamon, and pepper. My stomach was soothed with each comforting sip.
I returned to India a couple years later for my brother’s wedding to a girl from New Delhi. He inherited a large family. I inherited a recipe and a cupboard full of spices.
Masala
* 1 cup + 3 tbsp peppercorn
3/4 cup + 1 tbsp ginger
1/4 cup + 2 tbsp cinnamon
1/4 cup + 2 tbsp cardamom
2 tsp clove
2 tsp nutmeg
Chai
**1/2 cup condensed milk
1/2 cup water
1 to 2 tsp. sugar
1 tsp. loose tea leaves. Darjeeling or Assam
1/4 tsp. chai masala
*Finely grind all ingredients for the masala
hannahtice 