Warmth flooded over me, and I hadn’t even boiled the water for the chai yet. The best kind of hot tea is the kind that warms you up before you even take a sip, and this was a prime example.
Brian and I had been traveling since early that morning — along with a stowaway Silas baby — as we embarked on a 15th anniversary adventure. My internal thermostat has raised temperature significantly since having babies, so I hadn’t been as cold in the airports and airplanes as in past trips, but “cozy” would still not be the word to describe the travel environment. We only had a couple delays and none that messed with making our connection, and Silas had traveled remarkably well (plus he’s remarkably cute, in my clearly unbiased assessment), so it had been a very successful journey to southern Montana.
One step outside the airport: “Toto, I’ve a feeling we’re not in Kansas anymore!” My brain always implodes a little looking at mountains and thinking that people live here and see those every day.
All that said, I hadn’t had my customary pot of garden mint tea that morning, and by the time we got to the house, it was tea time — both by the midafternoon clock and my body’s (perceived) needs.
My almost-lifelong friend we were going to visit had previously confirmed that I still liked chai, and she was not asking inconsequentially. My mouth and my eyes started to water a bit when we let ourselves into the quiet home and found the most welcoming sight. Since our friends were still at work, they had set up a reception that, albeit silent, spoke volumes of hospitality into our souls.
There on a round wooden tray were arranged an abundance of chai options and accoutrements: looseleaf and instant; black and rooibos; extra-spicy and coconutty; plus alfalfa honey, vanilla bean powder, a frother, a basket-insert teapot, and various sizes and styles of mugs. Not to mention a jar of robust ground coffee for Brian, and two types of milk in the fridge! The hotpot took mere minutes to heat up the water, yet my soul was already richly warmed by the time my chilly fingers wrapped around my first mug of sweet, spicy chai.
We had just had a couple weeks of hosting company ourselves — with only a few hours between one leaving and the next set arriving — and it had really been on my heart to be intentionally welcoming to our guests in the midst of our semi-frenetic schedule of catering, harvesting, etc. I hope that I succeeded in showing open-doored and open-handed generosity to our treasured guests, but wow, I was challenged and inspired by how this dear friend went above and beyond. There were even chocolate crisps and luxury diapers on the dresser, and long socks and cozy sweaters in the closet! Hiking snacks, warm hats, even spare toothbrushes, you name it and she had thought of it.
She works harder than just about anyone I know, but she still generously took the time and energy to make our welcome just that: so welcoming. I made sure to brew each of the chais at least once (out of the goodness of my heart), and though a big pot of chai is already one of my favorite ways to practice hospitality, these warm memories will make my cups even sweeter from here on out.
Dirty Maple Chai Latte
Just chai is delicious on its own, but when there are options to gussy it up, we might as well! I tried all sorts of variations, from adding stevia or caramel syrup to using almond milk or blending with another type of tea: it’s hard to find a bad option. (Although technically I did experiment with some cold with seltzer water and it was a bit of a bummer.) Calling a drink “dirty” never sounds super appealing to me, but since it means adding coffee, it’s worth it.
Prep tips: use decaf chai and coffee if you want, and vary the ingredient ratios (you know I’m just making up amounts since I simply poured into my mug until it tasted like I wanted).
- 1 cup strong chai of choice
- ¼ cup hot espresso or black coffee
- ¼ cup hot whole milk
- 1 tablespoon maple syrup
- optional: vanilla bean powder
- ground cinnamon
Add all ingredients to a cozy mug, frothing or whisking to combine. Sip and relax.
Lettuce Eat Local is a weekly local foods column by Amanda Miller, who lives in rural Reno County on the family dairy farm with her husband and three small children. She seeks to help build connections through food with her community, the earth, and the God who created it all. Send feedback and recipe ideas to hyperpeanutbutter@gmail.com.
