Ginger Tisane

The man is nursing the last bits of a persistent cold and has still got a slight cough. He was feeling so much better with a combination of meds, chicken-ginger soups and no alcohol. Then he promptly went to quaff a whole Mandarin orange. I told him "Confirm 咳死你". Of course he didn't understand what I said or even the words. Hahahaha. True enough, he was woken up by two major coughing fits later in the night. ORH-BI-GOOT. In the morning, he sheepishly asked for 'ginger tea'.

TISANE lah. Things brewed with water that aren't leaves from camellia sinensis are either tisanes or floral infusions. Anyway. I can't bear to talk or think about tea, much less drink it. Each thought still induces distaste and disgust. I avoid it like the plague. But boiling up a ginger infusion to chase sniffles away is fine. Two big cups of ginger tisane for him. An age-old remedy.

I like ginger tisane. I don't take it regularly though, just once in a while when indigestion acts up or when the onset of a bug is felt. I'm definitely not keen on those instant satchets. I'll blend up old-ginger, add in rock sugar or black sugar, and steam it into a paste to store in the fridge for the week. I'll scoop a small bit into a cup of hot water every other day to sip for a week or two.

One could do ginger tisane in any way. With lemons, fresh mint leaves, cinnamon, red dates or wolfberries. Mmmm. Those are nice. This pot, I did it in the simplest way that was almost medicinal and spicy. Just slices of old-ginger and apple. Upon serving, I stirred in dollops of dark honey and drops of lime juice. Spicy goodness.

Yup. The man has a special pink Le Creuset cup for hot beverages.
My pink Arabia Moomin and Snorkmaiden is a recent gift from N.