Chai Time

i almost forgot to tell you about it! a staple in the day’s schedule, all the country stops for an afternoon chai. we participate in the ritual as well in our office and use the 30 min to tell of recent trips, play speed scrabble, or sit in the sun. chai has always been one of my favorites on the coffee shop menus [and to think i didn't even know it was from india]. even after a year of it most every day, it will continue to remain a favorite; though i have a feeling starbuck’s version won’t be quite the same. i used to think it tasted like christmas. now to me, it will always be india…

chai garam. chai garam.
a deep, disembodied voice echoes fro the railway platform, calling to the train’s sleepy passenger. roused from a miserable attempt at sleep, the weary traveler quickly withdraws a single rupee from his wallet and eagerly thrusts it through the bars of the compartment’s open window. soon he holds a red clay cup, brimming with steaming liquid. like a parched wanderer in the desert, he brings it to his lips. bliss. loved by some, hated by others, chai – the indian tea consumed by the masses as well as the maharajahs – is one of the constants on this subcontinent.

if you’re like most westerners, when you think of tea you probably picture an elegant porcelain pot with some exquisitely aromatic assam or derjeeling leaves steeping inside. nearby stand milk and sugar, ready to serve if called upon. a decidedly british sort of arrangement. to no great surprise, considering the long years of the raj, this setup can be found all over india, but only in first-class waiting rooms, western-style restaurants, and starred hotels. if this is what you want, be sure to order ‘tray tea.’ alas, it won’t always be available. on the other hand, maybe you’re visualizing something a bit more utilitarian. but the tea bag has failed to penetrate very deeply into india culture.

okay, you’re wondering: what is chai? what are its magical ingredients? what special alchemy produces it? pull up a chair in one of my favorite chai stands and watch the chai-wallah at work. squatting by a brazier of glowing coals, the maestro reaches for his favorite pot, a much-dented, fire-blackened thing made out of the cheapest metals possible. deftly he knocks out the remains of the last batch of chai, wipes out the pot with a dirty rag, and sets it on the brazier. he adds several cups of water [better not ask its source] and two ladles of whole milk. as the mixture begins to heat, the chai-wallah reaches for a large, red tin of brook bond red label, the best ctc tea money can buy [ctc tea is the name given to what’s left of the tea after the finest leaves have been sold for export. the letters stand for the crush-tear-cool process that these remains are subjected to]. into the pot go several generous pinches. now a critical step. out comes another tin, this one full of coarse crystals of partially refined sugar. in goes a spoonful. and another. and another. and another. you lose count. the mind boggles. with effortless grace, the maestro reaches for a bidi, a cigarette hand-rolled in a leafe of tobacco or the cheaper sall. now it is time to wait and have a smoke. there’s no hurrying this last, all-important stage: the cooking.

minutes pass. at last the bidi has burned down, and the chai is ready to be served. a serious young boy in stained pajamas steps forward: the sorcerer’s apprentice. he deferentially hands his master a mismatched cup and saucer. with practiced showmanship, the wallah flourishes a strainer and pours the tea. following the example of your fellow patrons, you pour the piping hot chai into the saucer and take a sip. a feeling of sublime well-being spreads slowly through body and soul.

the best chai stands, of course, are something more than a place to sit and relax. like any good coffeehouse in the western world, a chai stand is a social center. newspapers are read, politics debated. friendly patrons, observing that you are a foreigner, may draw you into conversation, inquiring into the country of your origin, the nature of your journey, the frequency of your sex life. give them an enigmatic smile and continue sipping. some of india’s more upscale chai stands like to infuse their brew with cardamom or other indigenous spices. ginger, cloves, cinnamon, nutmeg, and black pepper are all common choices. the cardamom, some say, is best when chewed fresh by the chai wallah, then spit into the pot. i’ve never witnessed this myself, but wisdom might dictate keeping a close eye on the maestro while he is brewing your tea.

jarrold steward. chai! chai! chai! travelers’ tales: india. san francisco: 2004.