Over the years, I have to tried to emulate my Chai Guru’s chai, but could never match it.  This recipe is my own humble rendition of my very first cup of chai.  (Click on Jenny’s recipe card above to see larger or click here to download and print.) Enjoy.

spicy goat milk masala chai

–Makes ~6 10oz. cups–

Ingredients

6 cups water
3 cups goat milk
1/3 cup maple syrup (-or- 1/2 cup if you like it sweet -or- to taste; can substitute other sweetener)
3 black tea bags -OR- 3 tsp. CTC tea -OR- 6 tsp. Assam whole leaf grade tea
1/3 cup (grated) fresh ginger
1″ cinnamon stick
7 each black, white and red whole peppercorns
7 cloves
7 allspice (pimento) berries
15 green cardamom pods -OR- 1 tsp. decorticated (shell removed) cardamom
Small pinch of freshly ground nutmeg
Saffron for garnish

Recipe
1. Stop.  Breathe.  Smile.
2. Fill pot with water and put over high heat.
3. Grate ginger and add to pot.  (You can also slice thinly or smash in a mortar and pestle)
4. Grind cinnamon, peppercorns, cloves, allspice and cardamom in a mortar and pestle or spice/coffee grinder and add to pot
5.Grate nutmeg into pot
6.Bring to boil, then reduce flame and simmer for around 15 minutes
7.Add goat milk, tea and maple syrup.
8.Turn to high heat until it comes to a rapid boil then remove from heat.
9.Strain into second pot, pour into serving cups, garnish with a few strands of saffron and offer to your Beloved Friend.

We never came across any goat milk chai in India, but here’s a goat we encountered in Benares, the morning after Shivaratri, enjoying offerings made to the Shiva Lingum.

My dear friend and teacher Hamid lovingly served me my first cup of masala chai 17 years ago. It was a moment I will never forget…sitting on the floor of his Chicago flat, the elevating aroma of incense mixed with spices, classical Indian rhythms vibrating through my being. Hamid emerged from the kitchen with two steaming cups of his spicy chai. I remember that first sip. It was the most delicious taste that had ever passed over my tongue. I sat spellbound in a chai-induced state of bliss as the chai coursed through my body. It warmed me all the way up to my soul.

I would go over to Hamid’s for tabla instruction, but before the lesson began, we would sit with our chai and embark on conversations led by our mutual love for the Divine. We would discuss spiritual practice and Hamid would illuminate the teachings of saints like Sri Ramakrishna and Bawa Muhaiyaddeen.  Hamid became a guiding light to my inner path. I learned by his living example the way of compassionate activity and the unity of all sacred traditions. Finishing the last sip of chai, the lesson was over and my drums would still be sitting in their bag. It soon became clear that tablas were not my forte and perhaps our meetings held another purpose.

When I finally asked him for his chai recipe he replied, “I’ll have to show you.” Along with the other spices he crushed up in his mortar and pestle, he would add enough peppercorns, black, white and red, to make it a fiery brew. After boiling it twice, he poured the chai back and forth between two pots to let it breath in the air element. Sometimes he would garnish it with a few strands of saffron. To me, the taste of saffron became synonymous with the heavenly taste of chai.  Still today, i use saffron as my special ingredient that rounds off the bitter taste of tea with a flowery high-note.

Hamid’s chai remains in my memory as the finest. He always made it with goat’s milk and maple syrup. When I started making my own chai, I didn’t know there was any other way. Now on those rare occasions when I drink goat milk chai, it reminds me of Hamid.

Hamid was my chai guru. He taught me not only how to make chai, but also his “secret.” He told me that chai should be prepared with prayer or mantra or loving intentions. This was the most important ingredient. It imbued the chai with a blessing that would pass onto whoever drank it. Since then, I have been preparing homemade chai almost daily. It is my ritual and my offering.

Ganesh is the elephant-headed God in the Hindu tradition who is honored at the beginning of all ceremonies and endeavors. He opens the Way. We offer our love and gratitude to the One who blessed us with inspiration, guidance and protection, and continues to remove all obstacles on our Chai Pilgrimage. I have always loved elephants. Maybe that’s why I instantly connected with Ganesh when I first ‘met’ him. I made this Ganesh (available here) to remind me of his wonderful attributes and immense wisdom.

Ganesh is the inspiration for probably millions of artists. Everywhere we turned, we saw his image. We sighted this Ganesh-in-motion on the back of a rickshaw in Kathmandu.

We passed this Ganesh on a narrow alley in old Kathmandu. He seemed to be glowing.

I colored this ‘chai wallah’ version of Ganesh in my sketchbook.

Our friend Veejay is an artist living in Varanasi. He’s made (literally) thousands and thousands of Ganeshes.

Veejay’s brother, Deepu, carved this Ganesh for us.

And this special “lucky Ganesh penny” sits on my desk — my friend Amanda sent it to me from India.

I love to surround myself with reminders of the Divine, because it does just that — reminds me to REMEMBER. This is something I definitely ‘took’ from my visits to Nepal and India. Here, my days are filled with so much activity–work deadlines, cooking, cleaning, errands, and exercise — that I appreciate the reminder to pause for a moment, breathe, and give thanks. Whether the reminder is an image of Ganesh or Buddha, or even a vase of flowers or a walk in nature, it takes me to the same place within. Peace.

As we ascended the steep stone path to the hilltop Tashiding monastery, each step took us deeper into a palpable prayer. Thousands of colorful prayer flags stamped with Tibetan mantras released their blessings into the clear sky above our heads. The breeze playfully spun windmill-like prayer wheels, spiraling out loving kindness towards the blue mountain horizon. A field of stupas rose out of the earth like white and golden Buddhas popping up in Heaven’s flower garden. The silent blessings permeated our being and carried us barefoot around the monastery grounds.

A wall of mani stones, slabs of granite painted in bright colors with the great Tibetan Buddhist mantra om mani padme hum etched into them, encircled the entire stupa compound in an energetic ring invoking compassion. As we came around a corner, we spotted a figure inside a corrugated tin and stone shack built into the prayer wall. A man peered out from behind stacked slabs of gray stone. As we approached him with obvious interest on our faces he signaled us to come in and sit.

He sat surrounded by engraved tablets, chiseling the next prayer. His long fingers held a chisel in one hand braced against the carving easel, while his other hand gently tapped with a small hammer. His graying dark hair was tied in a knot like a small stupa on top of his head. His face had sculpted asian features and long, thin strands of hair hung from his chin and moustache. He worked diligently as he peered through thick brown glasses tied with a string around his head. Occasionally he stopped and looked at us for a few minutes, the three of us speaking no words.

I somehow asked him if he had carved the thousands of prayers surrounding the shrine. It is like a game of silent charades. You can have an entire conversation this way and not even realize you haven’t spoken a word. He signaled his hand in a circle then pointed to himself to indicate that, yes, he indeed was the artist of this massive body of prayerful work. It seemed irrelevant to try to ask him how long he has been living here as a sculptor. If he told us 300 years, when this monastery was first built, we would have believed him. It is that way in India — no unbelievable truth is beyond doubt. We sat in wonder and witnessed this timeless being living in the heavenly realm dedicating his life to extracting prayers out of stone.

He laid his tools down, and with a flick of his head, flung his glasses to his forehead. Aromatic smoke rose from under his blackened teakettle. He took the kettle and poured another cup, took a bite of a biscuit and a sip of tea. He then sat in silence and closes his eyes. I think he was napping. After a few minutes, his head nodded foreword and his glasses fell back onto his nose. He opened his eyes, took a long sigh and continued his work.

We later learned his name, Yanchong Lodil.

We had our first encounter with a garden spirit at the Makaibari estate’s tea tasting room. While sipping our prized first flush silver tip tea, we noticed something peculiar about a potted tea plant in the corner of the room. One of the tealeaves was walking down the branch. “No wonder this tea sells for 18,000 rupees per kilogram,” I thought. As we looked closely at the plant, we were astonished to see that the tealeaf had little leafy legs and what appeared to be a head. Our host informed us we were beholding a Tea Deva.

“A what?”
“Tea Deva, Tea Deva. A tea god!”
“Oh, a Tea Deva.” I suddenly realized we were in the presence of a Divine manifestation in the form of a bug.

We were told that this preying mantis-like insect first revealed itself in the garden in 1992. “It is very difficult to locate,” estate manager, Dev, told us, “because it is very similar to the tea leaves.” In fact, the Tea Deva apparently shares an empathic relationship with the tea bushes. In the early summer, the auspicious insect displays the same luster of a fresh new leaf and in the winter appears blistered and worn. As the story has it, in 1995 a hailstorm damaged many tea bushes in one part of the estate. A Tea Deva found in another unaffected location exhibited the same abrasions on its leaf-like body.

“If somebody locates a Tea Deva, lucky things happen for that person,” Dev told us. In addition to luck, there is a monetary incentive offered by the estate to any employee who finds one. The Tea Deva is then brought to the office for visitors to admire for a couple of days until it is set free.

Dev believes the appearance of this garden spirit is a direct result of applying farming practices that are attuned with Nature, “Rudolf Steiner [the father of Biodynamic gardening] says if your farm cultivation is holistically biodynamic and nature is protected, then the new life forms that emerge are a reflection of your main crop. Our main crop is tea, so the Tea Deva is the reflection of our tea. So, it is the natural certificate that we are holistically following biodynamic practices.”

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Our meeting with the tea deva inspired Jenny to create this image, while Indian packaging (tea, rice, matchboxes, etc.) inspired her graphic approach. She is offering archival prints of this ‘garden spirit’ on her site. Click here.

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10.1.08  **Scientifically speaking: The Tea Deva belongs to the Phylliidae family of leafy insects and is quite known for its talent to mimic its surroundings.

Namasté is the essential phrase and gesture one must learn when traveling in Nepal and India. It is used as both a greeting and a farewell, but its meaning is much deeper than a simple “hello” or “goodbye.” Namasté is a Hindi word derived from Sanskrit, the sacred language of ancient India. Sanskrit was used to write the Hindu scriptures, medical texts and classical poetry and is still used today to recite prayers and sing devotional hymns.

Namas means, “to bow, obeisance, reverent salutation or adoration.” While Té , from the root tvam, means “your or to you.” Namasté then simply means, “I bow to you.”

If you break the Sanskrit down to the root syllables, another level of meaning appears. Na means, “no, not, to negate,” while ma has many meanings including “measure, binding, time or death.” Put these together and the hidden meaning becomes that with no measure, no binding, no time and no death — or the boundless, free, eternal and immortal – Divine Consciousness. Our bow is coming from, and being offered to, that pure place of perfection that is within us all. It is the acknowledgement of our higher self – beyond the personality.

Namasté can be translated as, “The pure goodness within me honors the pure goodness within you” or “The God in me sees the God you.” This recognition of our self as not separate from the Supreme Self is a central tenant of Hinduism. The Namasté greeting, however, is nondenominational and universal. It is a greeting of souls.

Namasté is a mantra, or sacred phrase with a subtly powerful energetic effect. The energy of its meaning is created by the sound vibration of the word. It is spoken with the accompanying gesture of hands together in prayer position in front of the chest and the head slightly bowed. This hand position, called anjali mudra, signifies not only the gesture but also an attitude. The attitude is one of humility, love and compassion as well as transparent awareness. Mudra internalizes the mind unlike a handshake, which focuses energy outward. Anjali mudra balances the left and right hemispheres of the brain and our masculine and feminine aspects. It reminds us that we are not separate from one another or from the Divine Source, just as the two separate hands come together as one in front of the heart center.

Namasté is a practice of yoga, or union, of the body, mind and soul. The body performs the mudra and speaks the sacred word. The mind reflects on its meaning. The soul unites with the infinite soul of the other person and with universal awareness. When sincerely performed, there is a realization, if only for a moment, that we are surrounded by the divine presence.

Sometimes the Namasté mantra is not spoken out loud, but internally. In India, the gesture itself is understood as Namasté. It is customary for a younger person to perform Namasté to an elder first. Namaskar means “the act of performing Namasté,” but “Namaskar” is also said when addressing an elder or highly respected person, with the hands together in front of the forehead. The hands may be taken over the head when in the presence of a saint or an image of God, sometimes while falling into a full prostration.

In yogic esoteric anatomy, a chakra is an energy center where consciousness resides within the subtle body. When we Namasté with the hands over the anahata or heart chakra, in the center of the chest, we connect with the seat of divine love. With folded hands touching the forehead or third eye, the ajna chakra, we bring our vision to that which is beyond the physical form, the higher self. When placing our hands over our head on the crown or sahasrara chakra called the thousand petal lotus, we are merging our soul with the primordial vibration of OM, the awareness that created the universe.

When greeting a Muslim, the appropriate salutation is the Arabic, As-salam Alaykum, ”may the peace and blessings of God be with you,” and the response, Alaykum As-salam. Sometimes, by mistake, we offered Namasté to Muslims. While this is traditionally a Hindu greeting, it was still taken with respect. When greeting Buddhists in South Asia, one also uses the Namasté greeting.

Performing Namasté is a blissful opportunity to see the Divine in all beings. It is one of the ways that being in India almost forces you to perceive God. Namasté acts as a good starting point when meeting someone and the perfect final word. It is my favorite Indian custom and one that I try to preserve back home.