I’ve never actually been to India, it’s on my list. My husband Adam went for work once and unfortunately got very sick and has no great desire to go back, so one day I’ll take myself. I adore Indian food, I’m interested in the history and culture, it’s a diverse country that I would dearly love to explore, but most of all I’m just desperate to experience proper chai. Masala Chai. Maybe even meet a chaiwallah. What a noble profession, serving tea on the street, creating neutral gathering places for people of all walks of life to converse. Community anchors, neighbourhood peacekeepers, chai experts; I honour their efforts and one day hope to see them in action.

My relationship with chai began when I was eighteen years old. I’d just moved to Sydney to university, and my college was between the uni and Glebe Point Road. There was a cafe called Badde Manors just along Glebe Point Road, it’s still there (now called Goode Manors.) “Baddies” sold the best chai, way before the insanity of sweet chai lattes, just proper chai tea brewed in a pot with hot milk and a touch of honey and fresh ginger. I can still smell it, and see the filtered light on the red booth seats and feel the bubbling of anticipation and euphoria at being able to study medieval history all day, with a nine-floor university library and the best chai tea imaginable across the road from each other.

More recently I’ve learned to be very careful when ordering chai at Australian cafes. It’s rarely made on brewed tea these days and sometimes even made on a chai-flavoured syrup. Appalling. I have a sensible kid who introduced me to the insensible “dirty chai” which is a chai with a shot of espresso, what the heck, making me examine my parenting abilities.

Like most things, it’s just better if you make it yourself. This recipe is the product of many years of trying to recreate the Badde Manors chai, and I hope it transports you too.

Note: I use fresh ginger for this, and store it, and it’s always been fine. If you are in a warm climate, be careful it doesn’t go mouldy, or substitute powdered ginger to be safe. Alternatively, you could make up the chai and add fresh ginger as you use it.

Makes 140 gm
 
Ingredients

5 cm (2 in) knob fresh ginger
40 g (½ cup) loose leaf black tea
17 g (¼ cup) whole green cardamon pods
17 g (¼ cup) whole cloves
30 g (¼ cup) whole peppercorns
2 cinnamon sticks, broken up
1 star anise (optional)
honey, to serve

Method
First, finely chop or grate the ginger and place on a tray or plate and leave to dry out overnight. (This step isn’t totally necessary, except if you live somewhere with high humidity.)
Put all the ingredients into a blender or high-powered food processor and pulse briefly until the spices are broken up.
Store in an airtight jar in your pantry for about 6 months.
To make the chai, put a cup of your favourite milk (I love soy chai) into a saucepan on the stove, and add 1 heaped teaspoon of the chai spice and stir well. Heat over a moderate flame – do not boil! – and when it starts to bubble around the edge, take off the heat and let it steep for 5 minutes. Strain into a cup. Sweeten to taste with a small spoon of honey.

Recipe adapted from Fiona Weir’s book “From Scratch” published by Hardie Grant 2022, photography by Alan Benson

Like this? You might also like this …. Fiona Weir’s homemade yoghurt — the recipe that travelled from a Turkish sailing family to a Tasmanian lighthouse keeper to your kitchen