Chamomile and Milano Cookies and Gramma

Tonight it’s supposed to be what Ava describes as, “bitterly cold” across most of the US.  It’s even cold down here in the desert.  The low is supposed to be in the 20’s tonight and a high of only 40 tomorrow.  I know those of you back East would probably just like to smack me right about now, and I’m sorry, but my blood is thin and I live here because of my deep seated hatred for cold weather.

One of only a few pleasurable things about winter is my late night writing ritual.  I can only do it when it’s cold.  I’ve been trying to develop a taste for tea and so far so good.  In fact, I’ve found quite a few that are absolutely delicious.  So this is how the ritual goes:

After everyone has gone to bed, I turn on the water in my whistling kettle and, while it’s boiling, I get the rest of my stuff together. I have a slew of my great grandmother’s tea cups, but I keep them hidden away in the china cabinet.  Instead I use my favorite mug and a cute little teapot along with a motley assortment of my G’ma’s heirlooms.

A funny little aside about that nickname.  My sweet little great grandmother always used to send letters and birthday greetings with the signature G apostrephe ma – G’ma.  Once a jealous girlfriend of my uncle’s got ahold of a card from her and demanded to know who Gina was.  I don’t know if he ever convinced her it was his innocent little Grandmother.

Back to the tea tray.  I use a  sterling silver Tiffany spoon in my sugar bowl.  It is not an embellished piece of flatware, it’s simple and pretty.  The weight feels good in my hands, it has a lovely balance and the deep luster of the silver warms in your grasp.  I use one of her Haviland Limoges bowls for snacks.  It has a dainty gold and flower border of pale lilacs and green vines.  I like to hold it up to the light and see the shadows through the delicate bone china. 

I chose between Earl Gray or Chamomile or any other of about ten assorted blends, some loose which I especially enjoy because I get to use my tea ball. 

The aromas and sensory pleasures from the steam as the tea brews and then later cools in my cup is relaxing and centering.  I have two or three cups each night while I’m writing.

I’ll miss it when it’s a zillion degrees outside.  I wonder if I can somehow adapt the whole ritual to iced tea?