Somali tea

Recently our pastor stopped by for a visit. Knowing how much of a coffee connoisseur he is, I was too intimidated to serve him coffee. I tend to mentally drop out of the conversation when people start using terms like cold press and French press, and I was certain I could not prepare a cup of coffee that would make the grade.

So we served tea. I call it “Somali tea,” though my husband is quick to point out that no tea grows in Somalia. What I mean is tea prepared with spices the way Somalis prepare it. But that’s too long to be a name for tea, not to mention a bit annoying in its precision.

Well, our pastor liked the tea. Liked it enough to have a second cup. Liked it enough to have his wife call me a week later to ask for the recipe. There is no recipe, really. I learned to make it from my husband who believes that using a recipe is kind of like cheating. In his view, a good cook has this intuitive sense about ingredients and does not need to write anything down. But I, having been taught to use standard measurements in the kitchen, have made this tea enough times to be able to share the approximate quantity of each ingredient.

Somalis are impressed that I know how to make it; Anglos generally like it. I have shared this recipe twice this week—thrice if you count this blog.

Here is how we make Somali tea in our home.

Put all of the following in a tea kettle (or sauce pan):
2 ½ cups of water
1 regular black tea bag (or the equivalent in loose black tea)
1/3 of a stick of cinnamon
5 whole cloves
4-5 green cardamom pods, crushed a bit
a slice of ginger root, if you have it on hand

Bring to a boil, reduce heat, and simmer seven to ten minutes. Add sugar and evaporated milk or cream to taste—it should look rather white. Reheat, strain, and serve immediately.

Less is more

Refuse to be defined by your stuff (or perhaps lack thereof). Now that's countercultural.

Consider the reasons for reducing your carbon footprint given in the following video clip: http://www.storyofstuff.com/

Content or discontent?

Though I could go years without entering a mall, mall walking has become my exercise of choice this winter. The deciding factor? I can do it with an infant.

While making round one today, I saw a Macy's ad that asked, "Why not have it all?"

Why not? Because I don't need it. Because it won't make me happy. Because there is no place to put it... I have to remind myself of these things.

I find it is easier to remain content the less I shop. Or the more I stay out of the mall. But perhaps that is not the answer. Contentment is a choice. For most of us living in a developed country, it has little to do with our possessions or our circumstances, much to do with our state of mind.

I will choose to be content--without having it all.