I got this recipe from a funny little tea shop I like to frequent whenever I get the chance. It's a drive-through tea shop, and it's open 25 hours a day. Unlike most 25 hour-a-day tea shops, they don't use any time travel -- the couple that owns the place says that it spoils the flavor of the tea. Instead, the whole tea shop operates along a low-hanging airship that lazily drifts Westward against the rotation of the Earth to gently steal an extra hour every day. The couple that runs the place says that the primary benefit of tea is not to hurry, and so they like to live their lives with an extra hour every day. They say they spend that hour just sitting on a loveseat together, talking about whatever's on their mind, never worried about secrets, knowing that they have decades more to spend together. That's the sort of love they bring into every cup of tea at that low-drifting tea ship. It can be a little tricky maneuvering your car alongside the drive-through airship, but trust me: it's worth it.
Tea For A Lazy Airship
Ingredients:
5 heaping tablespoons of discipline, excellent
5 slightly less heaping tablespoons of laziness, excellent
1 lifetime of memory
1/2 lbs. chimpanzee leaves
1/4 lbs. velvet-nettles, exotic or secret
1 reflection, your own
Mix discipline and laziness in appropriate portions, stirring carefully, so that each one enriches the experience of the other and they never clash or fight. Strain memory through cheese cloth to extract three happy memories from the past 25 hours, and mull over those memories along with what happened to bring them into being. In an oven or along the pavement of a cloudless summer morning, roast chimpanzee leaves, velvet-nettles, and your own reflection until they are a mellow golden brown. By then, the mixture should smell delicious. Lay roasted mixture along a smooth marble surface, anointed with lasers and the smiles of curious children, and sprinkle with other ingredients like wisps of cloud in the dawn sky.
Store frozen; keeps for decades. When ready to make tea, steep one teaspoon in a silver tea-ball into two quarts of near-boiling water.
Contemplate.
Originally posted to my new DreamWidth recipe journal. You can comment there using your LiveJournal ID and password, thanks to the spooky Internet magic of OpenID.
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