When tea was served in these special chai cups, it also took on that very special, wonderful other taste of the earth.
— Madhur Jaffrey, author of numerous cookbooks and an authority on Indian cuisine
Sounds, smells, heat, dust.
These are currency in the memory bank of everyone who has ever visited the complex, fascinating country called India. While some visitors seek a spiritual connection, others absorb the majesty of the scenery, from the towering Himalayas to the genteel luxury of the Goa seaside or the countless other exotic sights that lure thousands of tourists here every year.
For lovers of the leaf, like me, the lush green tea gardens are a must-see. The first stop for many of us is Darjeeling, home of the “champagne” of teas; next, Nilgiri, where we can inhale the fragrance of the Blue Mountains. Certainly we must travel to the birthplace of the Indian tea industry, Assam, with the fabled Brahmaputra River cutting through the greatest tea-growing region of this incredible country.
India’s richly layered culture attracts travelers to its Hindu temples, built thousands of years before Christ was born, and a reminder that Hinduism is alive and well and practiced by millions. Buddhist temples abound, a testament to more than thirteen centuries of presence in India. There are Muslim temples, Jewish synagogues, and churches and temples for many other religions, concrete examples of applied tolerance.
Other man-made wonders, like the Taj Mahal, lure visitors to the more romantic side of India. This monument from a shah to his beloved wife is more than a tomb, it is a work of art from the vibrant Moghul period (a.d. 1526–1738), when Islam was the religion of the ruling class.
Today India is the world’s largest democracy, despite turbulent times and constant changes, chaotic weather including yearly monsoon rains, mountains so high they literally take your breath away, and a vibrant patchwork quilt of culture found nowhere else on earth. Since opening its doors to foreign investors in the last few decades, after years of economic isolation, India has experienced tremendous progress, and some growing pains. As in centuries past, part of India’s wealth lies in its incredible range of spices that have lured adventurers to this country and continue to fascinate chefs and diners alike.
These condiments inspired world trade and not a little piracy. They continue to intrigue, although today it is businesspeople who come through the traditional channels of commerce for spices that not only give sparkle to complex cuisines, but provide health and cosmetic benefits. Perhaps the most significantly “new” role for Indian spices is scenting and flavoring the Indian spice tea specialty called masala chai.
Tea people connect with tea in the way a monk connects with his monastery — when he is in his monastery he is in a state of total bliss.
— Julie Sahni, author of Julie Sahni’s Introduction to Indian Cooking
As the train pulled into the station, the noise level rose. Turbaned young men climbed onto the sides of the trains, each balancing a tray with grace and skill with one hand while gripping the steel handles of the train with strength and perseverance with his other.
The aroma of the beverage they offered was amazing. It filled me up, welcomed me, got my full attention. Looking around, I sensed the rhythm of this tea dance of climbing tea sellers who shouted what became a two-syllable campaign to sell “Chai-ee, chai-ee.” Passengers signaled the tea servers with hands outstretched from train windows holding a few rupees. With staccato movements, the sellers managed to serve all of us, moving down the line of each car quickly, efficiently, and smoothly before jumping down from the final car onto the station walkway to await the next train, rolling in behind us.
What I received for my few rupees was an unglazed little cup full of a thick, milky drink. It was hot, spicy, nurturing, calming. Clattering sounds grabbed my attention away from the reverie I was having with my Indian spice tea. The clitter-clatter was the result of the little cups, hundreds of them, being tossed from the train windows to crash onto the train tracks below.
As an American and a Californian, I admit that my first reaction was, “How wasteful.” Then a smiling gentleman next to me assured me this was the custom. Tentatively, I dropped my cup from my window and watched it splatter when it hit the ground with a faint plop just seconds before the train picked up speed and headed out to our next stop.
The smiling gentleman turned out to be traveling to my own destination, and proceeded to tell me the story of masala chai.
“Those servers,” he said, “they are chaiwallahs, tea sellers, whose days begin before dawn and end after dusk. This is how they make their living. Some even make their own cups; others buy them from people whose only work is making these cups.” Leaning forward slightly, he said quietly, “It is hygienic to drink from disposable vessels like these.”
Sitting back in his seat, he continued with his story of a day in the life of a chaiwallah. “Each has his own recipe,” he said. “They use ground black tea, not the whole leaves or good-quality broken leaves that only the wealthier Indians can afford. No, they brew this ground black tea with their own combination of spices: pepper, cardamom, cinnamon, maybe cloves or ginger.” He counted them off on his fingers.
Pepper, I thought, pepper? Yes, I realized, that was part of what warmed me and made me feel so good when I sipped this new-to-me drink.
“The chaiwallahs boil this brew several times,” the gentleman added. Seeing my reaction, he laughed. “It is not your fine Darjeeling, not Margaret’s Hope or Castleton, but it is what we call, how you say? — maza, great fun.
“The mixture is boiled several times with milk,” he repeated, “then strained and served to customers. It is kept hot by pouring it into an urn or a metal teapot, just like those you saw chaiwallahs use to pour the tea into the little clay cups. Clever, yes? Tomorrow he will do it again, and the next day.”
The most familiar sight to train travelers in India: the welcoming cup of chai, poured carefully during the brief station stops.
During my travels I thought about the gentleman’s remarks many times, as I sampled masala chai at every train stop. I soon came to adore its unique and comforting taste. The tea was just as wonderful on street corners where capitalism, with all its accompanying competition, marketing, and selling styles, came alive with what I call “the dance of the chaiwallahs.”
Because most chaiwallahs were selling the same brew from most likely the same main source, the only way they could ensure a sale was to add flamboyance and not a little chutzpah to draw customers to their respective street corners. With each cry of “chai-ee,” a wallah would hoist his teapot as high as his eyes and pour the tea into little clay cups with great finesse, superb hand-eye control, and perhaps a bit of luck. Those who spilled even a drop were laughed at or, worse, lost a sale. I would often buy more than I actually wanted just to see this acrobatic display of showmanship.
Times have changed for the chaiwallahs, as tourists have discovered during trips to India. Nowadays one is more likely to be served chai in Styrofoam cups, or to receive chai made not with milk but who-knows-what. Still, visitors all come to treasure those first fabulous cups of masala chai on introductory trips to the land of spices, India, and try whenever possible to duplicate this pleasure at home.
Built in 1799, the Hava Mahal, or Palace of the Winds, is one of the most famous landmarks in Jaipur.
In India, where its people speak many many languages, the generic word for tea is chai. It derives from the Chinese word for tea, cha, which the British turned into tay, which then evolved into tea; this is what the western world came to call the leaf of the Camellia sinensis plant. Today, both the Japanese and the Chinese say “cha” for tea, and the Indians say “chai.”
The focal point of this book, however, is the tea drink known as masala chai. This beverage reflects the addition of masala, a combination of several spices that are popular in various Indian cuisines. Here in America, many masala chai blenders offer premade drinks with milk and call them chai lattes, following the style of the popular milky coffee drinks.
Whether it’s called by the “proper” name of masala chai, or the generic name, chai, this stimulating, calming, nourishing drink of tea, spices, and sometimes milk and sugar is utterly delicious.
Indian teas grow in three regions — Darjeeling, Assam, and Nilgiri — and each region produces fine blacks, some oolongs, and some greens. The blacks of each area are great in chais and offer different flavor profiles for your chai. Darjeeling, for example, is lighter and more delicate and goes well with cardamom. Nilgiri teas accept flavorings easily and will not cloud when iced. Assams are great for hot chais and can hold up well with stronger spices like pepper and ginger. Experiment with all three to see what tastes best to you.
To brew with loose leaves, measure out one teaspoon. Add about six ounces of hot water (195–200˚F) to the leaves and allow to steep for several minutes, or as suggested by your tea merchant or tea blender. Strain and serve.
No matter which chai recipe you use, warm up your mug or cup first by filling it with hot water. Let it sit for about a minute, discard the water, and you’ll have a nicely warmed receptacle for your favorite chai.
To make your Indian tea into chai, add spices to the loose tea leaves, then add the water. Allow the water to boil with the leaf/spice mixture for about five minutes or more. Add milk and simmer for another five minutes. Strain and serve.
An alternate way of brewing chai is to strain the leaf/spice mixture and add heated milk prior to serving. Or you can add sweetener at the same time you add the spices to intensify the sweetening ingredient. Some people prefer to add the sweetener upon serving. If it’s the richness of fine tea flavor you want, avoid oversteeping. For CTC black tea (sometimes called ground tea) cooking it with spices and milk for a long time only enhances all of the flavors.
I have gathered a collection of favorite recipes, anecdotes and travelers’ tales gleaned by charmed visitors to India, who share here the pleasures they receive from the remarkable drink called chai.
I will give a glimpse at the unique history of tea in India; we’ll take side trips to the country’s three major tea-growing regions and I will introduce some classic and contemporary Indian poetry, share thoughtful observations on this wildly diverse country, and give you a great time.
Please join me on the road to discovering the pleasures of masala chai and the fine teas of India.
After lunch
when the flies had stopped buzzing
over the food-littered floor
and the air
was still and heavy
when only the soft plop
of drops from a leaky tap
into a half-filled tin pail
broke the quiet
my wrinkled grandmother
would ask me to comb
her long wet hair
and as the comb furrowed
through the dark shining mass
and the smell of her coconut hair oil
mingled with the warmth of
midday sunshine
her lips would tell me
of how an illiterate peasant
had obtained the gift of rhymes
from the Goddess Saraswati
of how the new-born Krishna
had escaped the wrath of
a jealous king
and of many other
such bygone things
I would look on
with sleep-drunk eyes
as she recited Sanskrit verse
in a grating sandpapery voice
and when
her eyes closed in comfort
and her breathing became as rhythmic
as the poetry she had chanted
through the long lazy afternoon,
I would tiptoe
up to the old wall clock
to see if time had stopped.
— Shampa Sinha