Karak Chai

1 cup of cardamom evaporated milk

The first ingredient isn’t available in my pantry so, we’re off to a great start? I’m making the karak chai my mum makes every morning. One day, she and the other Indonesian aunties went out for brunch and had the most exquisite chai. They called for the tea maker to ask for his recipe, showering him with every compliment under the sun; it was impossible for him to say “no” to my mum and aunties. And so that’s how my mum found her karak chai recipe. She would brew a pot on most mornings, I would muster the will to finally get out of bed, go to the kitchen, pour myself a cup, and my day would start. I remember how she would keep an eye out for that one can of evaporated cardamom-flavored milk, the Rainbow brand, for her pot of tea when we went out for a grocery run to the supermarket just outside the community compound. We live apart now, and I’ve yet to see this exact can of evaporated milk in the aisles of my local grocery store. I find a carton of soy-almond-pine nut milk in the refrigerator, which I bought a week ago when I convinced myself that I needed to cut back on dairy for some reason. This will have to do for today.

1 tablespoon of crushed ginger

I reach for the ginger root, and slice off more than a tablespoon by the looks of it. Personally, I love the warm sensation that comes from drinking ginger beverages. Ginger is my favorite comfort herb, because it’s basically a cure for most bodily discomforts. Feeling nauseous? Ginger. Got cramps? Ginger. Fever? Ginger. Sore throat? Ginger. A cup of chai with a sensible amount of herbs, spices, and a balanced milk, water and tea ratio is to die for. There’s perhaps no better feeling than being sheltered indoors from the cold, polluted, wet outside world with a warm cup of tea, fuzzy socks, and a book. I clean the skin, place it in the mortar and crush with the pestle. Into the pot it goes.

3 pods of powdered green cardamom

I’m not sure what I was thinking when I told myself I could wing it. This might be a bad idea. This chai experiment was supposed to be fun, bring me comfort like it used to and sort of take me back home. But the process is stressful. There are no green cardamoms in sight, only the white ones which don’t pack much of a punch in flavor and taste like  the green ones. No matter; I add a little more than the recipe requires. I crush five cardamom pods so the exterior cracks open and add them into the pot. I watch the little pods float on the surface of the bubbly, non-dairy milk, and see the flavors ooze out.

1 and ¾ cup of water and 2 tablespoons of strong black tea

One and a half cups of water and two black jasmine tea bags should do. Now that I think about it, I’m not sure that I can clearly remember the last time I drank karak chai. There was that one time when I was out and about in Souq Waqif with my best friend from school. It was a cold December day. The smell of oud travelled through the alleyways, and we sat at a favorite cafe. Ordered a sandwich wrap and a cup of chai each. We talked about anything and everything until our cups were empty and bellies full. I miss having the longest conversations with her. If that was the last time, I probably would’ve savored that moment more.

Sugar to taste

Three teaspoons of sugar should be enough… perhaps one more… 

I might not remember the last time, but I do remember other special moments in my life with chai in them. There was that life-changing tea in a little Scottish cafe. “What’s the name of that chai place we were recommended to go to?” asked my best friend from university after we did our last bit of shopping at a boutique, “We should go there now.” So we did, holding on to our shopping bags, taking  the underground train and walking the rest of the way. The location and its surroundings looked questionable. But I think that’s when you know a place is truly worth it - you just give it a shot and ignore any doubts you might have as you walk in. We were greeted by a fluffy brown and white cat - Mavis? Marley? No, Maxwell, such a pretty one with bright yellow eyes. I ordered a Yogi Yogi chai. It came in an elephant-shaped ceramic teapot. The chai tasted heavenly, and had the perfect balance of sweetness and spice. Like drinking premium-made silk.

Finish

Okay, it’s time to take out the ginger and tea bags, turn off the stove, grab the pastel blue ceramic tea cup, and carefully pour the karak chai into the cup. The color looks off, I notice. It looks grey when it should be a light copper brown. I take the first sip… it’s not as creamy as karak chai should be. It's flat. And the cardamom is subtle against the nutty flavors of soy-almond-pine nut and black jasmine tea. It tastes nothing like the tea my mum brews, or the karak from the cafe in Souq Waqif, or the Yogi Yogi chai from that Scottish tea house.

Aftertaste

The outcome of this experiment wasn’t so awful. I didn’t burn down the kitchen, and I managed not to bruise myself in the process. It’s an early attempt at perfecting the art of making a cup of karak chai, but I have all the time in the world to try again. I’m determined to give it another go, maybe bake a saffron milk cake too which pairs well with chai. Dad loved ordering a slice of that sweet, yellow, milky, soft cake with his chai and I would always steal a few bites. It was a simpler time back when I thought there would be so many cups of chai waiting for me every six months or so. Before I thought I would see mum and dad again, hug my best friends, board a flight to go somewhere, sit at a cafe… but for now, let’s chug down what’s left of this miserable cup of grey chai with biscuits and listen to lo-fi tunes.

Artwork by Simone Hadebe