The accidental time machine
Four-thirty at my home is still, to date, a happy time for me. It is the culmination of a lot of things- my work coming to an end (although, I'll admit that in the recent past, it is more like I've reached halfway at this point), the setting sun spilling its golden hues across the stack of books on the corner of my table, and the tea my mom makes. The tea is special for me. Like a billion other humans on the planet, the tea is how I begin my day. It is my choice of drink at the end of a tiring journey. It's the 11 am drink on that slow Wednesday that doubles as a quick fix for hunger. Now, when I say tea, I don't just mean the cup of beverage. It is almost always accompanied by a snack. Usually spicy and fried in coconut oil, but always without fail, delicious. What prompted me to write this isn't the consistent success this duo has been able to make when it comes to making my mouth water. It is about something that my mom added to my tea today that took me back y...