Nostalgic Tea

Sometimes when I brew a pot of tea, I set it to medium heat, patiently awaiting the steam to let me know it is ready. It takes much longer than is necessary--and I even set the pot aside and watch the steam spill over the side like the exhale of a midnight smoker's lips. I'll turn a bottle of honey up and watch the gelatinous substance swarm the bottom of my tea cup. On days when I feel nostalgic, or the need to feel so, I'll throw a dash of whiskey in.

As a child, on sick days, my mother would boil tea, add a teaspoon of honey and a shot of whiskey. She said the temperature would kill the infection, the liquor would sterilize the throat, and the honey would soothe it. Probably another snake oil story. After several coughs and yelps from the heat I'd manage to get it down. I was then forced under the blankets until a furious sweat was worked up, often putting me into some sort of feverous pseudo-dream-like state. It was a disgusting elixir, and to this day it's filed under "medicine" to my taste buds. Nonetheless it brings back memories of my mother, so I do it.