Six-forty this morning on The Esplanade at Terrigal, the water was flat and cold enough to make my jaw ache, and by the time I’d walked back with sand still stuck to my ankles the kettle was already going for this tea. I’ve been making some version of it for years now, long enough that the recipe lives in the back of my scrappy kitchen journal with a coffee ring over the ginger quantity. It’s not fancy. It’s root, water, a bit of citrus, and patience.
The thing I keep coming back to with turmeric and ginger tea is that it’s less about the ingredients themselves and more about the pause it forces. You can’t rush a simmering pot the way you can a supplement or a shot of juice. You have to stand there for ten minutes while the kitchen smells like something warm and slightly peppery, and that ten minutes does something to the pace of the morning, whether or not you’ve had a swim first.
Where this one started
I picked up the habit properly a few winters back, after buying a knobbly bag of fresh turmeric at the Saturday growers market in Kincumber on a whim. The stallholder told me to treat it like ginger, just slice it thin and simmer it, and I’ve barely deviated from that advice since. Ground turmeric works in a pinch and I keep a jar of it for lazy weeks, but fresh root has a slightly grassy, peppery edge that the powder just doesn’t replicate.
What actually helps, in my experience, is not overthinking the ratios. This isn’t a tonic you’re dosing out. It’s a tea. If it tastes too earthy, add more lemon. If it’s too sharp, more honey. I’ve noticed the version I make in July, when I want something to hold in both hands on the way out the door, is stronger than the one I make in February, when I mostly want it iced.
Ingredients
- 4cm piece fresh turmeric, peeled and thinly sliced (or 1 tsp ground turmeric)
- 4cm piece fresh ginger, peeled and thinly sliced
- 500ml filtered water
- 1 cinnamon quill
- 2 whole cloves
- Juice of half a lemon
- 1 tbsp raw honey, or to taste
- Small pinch of freshly ground black pepper
Method
- Place the turmeric, ginger, cinnamon quill and cloves in a small saucepan with the water.
- Bring to a gentle simmer over medium heat, then reduce to low and let it simmer for 8-10 minutes, uncovered, until the water turns a deep amber-gold.
- Take the pan off the heat and strain the liquid into two mugs, pressing lightly on the ginger and turmeric to release the last of the flavour.
- Stir in the lemon juice, honey and black pepper while the tea is still hot enough for the honey to dissolve properly.
- Taste and adjust, more lemon if it feels flat, more honey if it’s too sharp, and drink while warm.
Serves 2. Prep is roughly 10 minutes, and the simmer takes another 10, so you’re looking at 20 minutes from kettle to mug, most of which is just standing around.
Why I keep making this combination
I won’t make any grand claims about what turmeric and ginger do inside the body, because I don’t think that’s my place, and honestly the research is still being worked through properly by people far more qualified than me. What I can say is how it makes me feel to drink it. There’s something steadying about a warm, slightly spiced drink first thing, especially on the mornings when the swim wakes me up a bit too much and I need something to bring the pace back down before the day starts properly. Healthdirect has a reasonable general overview of how routine and warmth can factor into how we feel through the day, if you want more than my word for it.
The lemon and honey do a lot of the actual work here, flavour-wise. Turmeric on its own is bitter and a bit medicinal, and I’ve had versions from cafés that lean too hard on it, all root and no balance. My quiet opinion, and I’ll admit it’s not a popular one on a site full of turmeric latte recipes, is that most of the pre-mixed turmeric tea bags on supermarket shelves taste more like cardboard than root. If you’ve got ten minutes and a saucepan, you’re better off doing it fresh.
How I serve it
Most mornings this goes into whatever mug is closest, usually one with a chip in the handle that I keep meaning to retire. On weekends I’ll pour it over ice with an extra squeeze of lemon if the Central Coast humidity’s doing what it does in January, and it holds up well cold, the spice mellows out a bit but it’s still worth drinking.
If I’m having people over, I’ll put a small jug of it out alongside something like the honey and lemon tea so there’s a lighter option next to the stronger one. It also sits nicely on a table with something like the pineapple and coconut water pina colada if you want a spread that isn’t all alcohol, which is more often the case at my place these days than it used to be.
A variation worth trying
On the nights I want something closer to a wind-down drink than a morning one, I’ll swap the lemon for a splash of milk, oat or dairy, and let it steep a touch longer so it’s richer, closer in spirit to the golden milk with cinnamon I make a few times a month. It’s a small change but it shifts the whole feel of the drink from bright and clarifying to something you’d have curled up on the couch. I’ve also had good results adding a slice of orange instead of lemon when the citrus in the fruit bowl is more orange than lemon, which is often, depending on what’s cheap that week.
What I’ve noticed over time
I keep a scrappy little journal, more shopping lists and half-finished thoughts than anything structured, and turmeric tea shows up in it more in the cooler months than the warmer ones. I don’t think that’s a coincidence. There’s something about a hot drink with a bit of bite to it that suits the part of the year when the mornings are darker and the swim takes a bit more convincing. If you’re the sort of person who tracks how food and drink line up with sleep and energy, CSIRO’s general nutrition research is worth a look if you want the evidence-based version of what I’m describing here in far less scientific terms. My version is really just observation, made one mug at a time.
What actually helps most, though, isn’t the turmeric or the ginger specifically. It’s having something small and warm to do with your hands before the day gets going, the same way a proper morning routine that actually sticks tends to be built from small repeatable things rather than anything dramatic. This tea is one of mine. It’s not going to fix anything. It’s just a nice ten minutes, most days, and lately that’s felt like enough.
— Tanya Pryce, Golden Door Living
