An Ode to Moroccan Mint Tea

I have always loved tea. I remember when my grandmother used to visit, she would make Earl Grey tea, and our house would smell like it all morning. The scent was so deep and dark that I desperately wanted to try it for myself. One day, my grandmother let me have a sip of her just-brewed tea. Excitedly, I held the mug to my lips, blew over to cool it down, and took a huge gulp.

The hot bitterness was instantaneous, and I twisted my face in disgust.

“Silly girl,” my grandmother said, “you didn’t wait until I put the sugar in!” I returned the tea to her, and she dropped three heaping teaspoons of sugar into the tiny mug.

“Try now,” she offered. This time, I cautiously took a tiny sip. The sugar did wonders. Although I burned my tongue in the process, I happily slurped up a few more sips of tea and remembered to leave some for my grandmother. Sugar makes tea so much better, I thought.

That’s why I was so excited for my first trip to Morocco. Growing up, I did not learn much about the Maghreb, but I did know that Morocco was famous for it’s sweet, sweet mint tea. I had read that mint was bountiful in the region, and there were traditional ways of serving and pouring. But despite everything I had heard, nothing could have prepared me for the deliciousness that is Moroccan mint tea.

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An Ode to Moroccan Mint Tea