Masala Chai

I grew up in Bengaluru in a house where chai was a punctuation mark, not a beverage. It marked the morning, the late morning, the post-lunch slump, the four o'clock visitor, the after-dinner debrief. My mother kept a small saucepan permanently within arm's reach of the stove. My father would wander into the kitchen every few hours and pour himself a cup as casually as drawing a glass of water.

Every household has its own version, and they're all correct. My mother's was on the lighter side — more milk than water, less ginger than most, the cardamom forward and the pepper barely present. My grandmother on my father's side made a denser, stronger version with no cardamom but a lot of fresh ginger and a small piece of jaggery instead of sugar. Both were definitely chai. Both were also definitely not the other person's chai, and there was real, ongoing, low-stakes family disagreement about whose was the correct one.

The only wrong way to make masala chai is the way most cafes outside India make it: a teabag steeping in lukewarm milk in a mug, microwaved. I'm not being a snob — fine, be a snob, the way Italians are about pasta. Masala chai is the boil. You bruise the spices. You boil the water with them. You pour the milk in. You boil it again. You finish with sugar. The whole thing takes ten minutes from cold pot to first sip, and the entire kitchen smells like cardamom and ginger by the time you're done.

This is the version I make now, in a much smaller kitchen than the one I grew up in, on weekday afternoons when I'd otherwise reach for coffee and regret it. It's closer to my mother's than my grandmother's, because it turns out I'm her son. The cardamom forward, the ginger present but not dominant, the milk plentiful.

Cooking tips

Cracking the cardamom pods open with the side of a knife (instead of tossing them in whole) releases their oils and gives the chai its signature aroma.

Boiling the spices in water first — before any tea or milk — extracts the most flavor.

A short milk boil, letting it foam up once or twice, adds richness without making the chai feel heavy.

Adding the sugar before the final boil melts it into the chai rather than leaving it pooled at the bottom of the cup.

Ingredients

• 4 green cardamom pods
• 4 whole black peppercorns
• 1-inch piece fresh ginger, smashed flat with the side of a knife
• 1 small cinnamon stick or a piece of cassia bark
• 1 whole clove
• 1 1/2 cups water
• 1 cup whole milk
• 2 heaped teaspoons loose black tea (Assam or any strong CTC)
• 2 to 3 teaspoons sugar, to taste

Method

1. Bruise the spices

Crush the cardamom pods open with the side of a knife. Drop them into a small saucepan along with the peppercorns, ginger, cinnamon, and clove.

2. Boil the spices

Add the water. Bring to a boil over high heat and let it boil hard for 2 to 3 minutes — until the kitchen smells like cardamom.

3. Add the tea

Stir in the tea. Boil 1 more minute. The water will turn deep mahogany.

4. Add milk and sugar

Pour in the milk and sugar. Bring back to a boil (watch the pot — it climbs). Once it foams up, lower the heat and simmer 2 to 3 minutes.

5. Strain and serve

Strain into two cups. Drink hot. The first sip is always the best.

A note: No fennel, no star anise, no nutmeg in this one — just the five spices listed. Chai is a recipe you learn by feel, not by gram. After a few cups, you'll know what you want more or less of, and the version you end up with will be the one that's yours. That's the whole point. My mother would tell you the same thing, probably while drinking her own version and politely refusing yours.