Rooibos-Anise Hyssop Sun Tea

It's always nice when delicious things practically make themselves. Sun tea is one of those things. You can put it out to steep in the morning and forget about it most of the day and then when you're in need of a refreshing beverage (because if it's hot enough to make sun tea, it's hot enough to drink a cool glass of something) your tea is ready to be strained and poured over ice.

Rooibos is a wonderful base for sun tea. It gives it a beautiful color and a rich, round flavor from which to build. It readily welcomes other flavors, such as the anise hyssop I used, which gave it a refreshing hint of licorice. I used anise hyssop, because that's what I have, but any of the mints--peppermint, spearmint, chocolate mint, pineapple mint, lemon balm--would work just as well. As always, use what you have, trust your own judgement, and don't panic--it's only tea.

Rooibos-Anise Hyssop Sun Tea

for one half gallon

• 4-5 Tbs. rooibos tea
• several sprigs anise hyssop
• a half-gallon jar with lid
• cold water

• Spoon tea into half-gallon jar. Pick anise hyssop, bruise the leaves by rolling them between your palms, and place in jar. Fill the jar with water and screw on the lid. Place jar outside in a sunny spot that will remain so for several hours. Allow to steep 3-5 hours. Strain into a pitcher and serve over ice. Garnish with a sprig of anise hyssop. Store any leftover tea in the refrigerator.

Any mint can be used in place of the anise hyssop.

Scones

I had my parents over for tea on Sunday. I baked scones and served them with orange marmalade and whipped crème fraîche. There were daffodils on the table and macaroon nests complete with speckled chocolate eggs. It was a lovely event, all in all, except that I was disappointed with the scones I served and the crème fraîche I had made before my trip to Israel had become a little too sour. I've always had a bit of a scone complex the way other people have anxiety about pie crust or curdling custard. I was determined to kick it today and, with the help of The Fundamental Techniques of Classic Pastry Arts, I think I did.

After some initial concern that my dough was too dry, my scones came out flaky, like they're supposed to, and golden and tender and just begging for a dollop of clotted cream.

Currant Scones

adapted from The Fundamental Techniques of Classic Pastry Arts

• 325 g bread flour
• 45 g sugar
• 20 g baking powder
• pinch salt
• 110 g butter, cold, cut into pieces
• 100 g dried currants
• 1 large egg, room temp.
• 1 egg yolk, room temp
• 100-145 mL heavy cream

• Preheat oven to 350°F. Line a baking sheet with parchment paper or a silicone mat and set aside.
• Combine the flour, sugar, baking powder, and salt. Drop in the butter and cut it into the flour using a pastry cutter until the mixture forms pea-sized pieces. Avoid over cutting the butter, or your scones will be dense not flaky.
• Lightly beat together the egg and yolk in a measuring cup. Pour in enough cream to bring the mixture to 200 mL. Stir to combine the eggs and cream. Add the egg mixture to the dry ingredients and mix just until a dough forms.
• Lightly flour a work surface and turn the dough out onto it. You might have to give the dough a brief knead to bring it together. Lightly pat the dough until it is about an inch thick. Using a round, fluted biscuit cutter, cut out scones and place them on the prepared baking sheet. You can of course cut the scones into the shape of your choice. Brush with either a cream or egg wash and sprinkle with coarse sugar if you like (I happen not to). Bake in the preheated oven 15-25 minutes or until scones are nicely browned on the bottom and edges. Serve immediately.

Makes about one dozen scones.

They say the doom of things like scones in overhandling and they're probably right, but don't be afraid of handling them at all. If your dough is quite dry, as mine was, it might take a knead or two to bring the dough together. Give your dough what it needs and you can't go too far wrong.

I'm glad to have overcome my scone making anxiety. They're supposed to be one of those things you can whip up when someone drops by and offer with a comforting cup of something hot. I might not be a that point yet, but with practice I will be.

Rusks

I thought maybe you had to grow up dipping Ouma brand rusks in Milo or rooibos in order for them to take over a small corner of your heart, but the ease with which I have been able to distribute the vast surplus of rusks this recipe left me with suggests otherwise.

There isn't a great deal to recommend rusks: they're only very slightly sweet and otherwise quite bland, hard, dry, and a bit of a nuisance to eat--crumbling or, once dipped, dripping tea down your chin. Strangely, none of this keeps them from being completely addictive. Once you start eating them, you won't want to have tea without one. I sent a bag home with M. and she told me this afternoon she's been eating them at breakfast, tea time, and for dessert. If that isn't a recommendation, I don't know what is.

I found several recipes for South African buttermilk rusks by doing a Google search, but have so far only tried the one mentioned above, which I can certainly recommend. I look forward to trying several more recipes, though, in hopes of more closely duplicating the perfect rusk of memory. A fool's errand, maybe as these come very, very close, but one that will always leave me with at least one tin of rusks in the pantry.