Blueberry Iced Tea

Mother's Day. I drove to Bellevue for brunch. Karen ate slowly. She smiled. I FaceTimed Jisoo in the evening — for her, it was Mother's Day too, technically, in spirit.

Sprint review at Amazon Friday. Two hours. I could have been on a podcast.

I texted Jisoo a photo of the kimchi in the new onggi pot. She replied with the thumb-up emoji and a Korean-language critique. The duality is the gift.

Yoga Tuesday morning at the studio. The forward fold released something I had been carrying in the shoulder. The mat is the mat.

I sat at the kitchen counter at six AM with a notebook and a cup of green tea. Writing time before the house wakes. The pre-light hour is the only writing hour I trust.

Therapy Tuesday with Dr. Kim. We talked about the parents — the two sets, the one living, the one gone, the one who became real after thirty years and the one who was real my whole life and is now gone. The work is the layered work.

Hana left a Lego on the kitchen floor. I stepped on it at two AM. Standard.

I made coffee at seven. Hana ate cereal at seven-fifteen. Min wandered down at seven-twenty-five. James left for work at eight. The morning was the morning. The standard.

Sunday farmers market on Wallingford Avenue. The kabocha at the Asian vendor's stall. The shishito peppers. The brokered conversation. We bought too much. We always do.

My Korean is improving. Slowly. Painfully. Conversationally adequate now. I can argue about kimchi proportions in two languages, which is a milestone in any marriage between mother and daughter.

Reading at night. A novel by a Korean-American writer about a family in 1990s LA. I underlined four sentences. The underlining is the marking-of-the-territory of the soul.

The kimchi crock was bubbling Saturday morning when I checked. The bubbling is the right bubbling. The fermentation knew what it was doing.

Rain on the porch all afternoon Saturday. The Wallingford rain is its own weather. I sat with a book and a tea and did not move for two hours.

The newsletter went out Sunday morning. The opening sentence took an hour. The piece took five. The piece was what it needed to be.

The Capitol Hill apartment kitchen is small. We make it work.

Jisoo sent a photo of the dol the kids did for our visit last summer. The photo went on the fridge.

James and I had date night Friday. Indian restaurant on 45th. We ate too much. We sat in the car after talking about nothing for an hour. The marriage is the marriage.

David came over for Sunday dinner. He brought some tomatoes from the Bellevue garden.

I read a thread on the Korean Adoptee subreddit Saturday. Some posts brought up old anger. Most are people figuring it out in real time. We are not unique. We are a community.

A blog reader wrote about her own adoptee experience. We exchanged three emails this week.

The shiso on the south fence is fragrant and unruly. I brushed past it taking the compost out and the smell stopped me. The smell is the country. The smell is Jisoo's apartment.

There’s a particular kind of Saturday afternoon — the rain coming off the eaves, the book open on my lap, the shiso fragrant on the fence — that asks for something that isn’t coffee and isn’t hot. After the week I’d had, the therapy session, the farmers market haul, the newsletter that took five hours, I needed a drink that matched the mood: unhurried, a little tart, a little sweet, and made to be sipped without moving for two hours. This blueberry iced tea was exactly that. I made a big pitcher and did not share it.

Prep Time: 10 minutes | Cook Time: 10 minutes | Total Time: 20 minutes + 2 hours chilling | Servings: 6

Ingredients

4 cups water, divided
4 black tea bags
1 1/2 cups fresh or frozen blueberries
1/3 cup granulated sugar
2 tablespoons fresh lemon juice
2 cups cold water
Ice, for serving
Fresh blueberries and lemon slices, for garnish (optional)

Instructions

Brew the tea. Bring 2 cups of water to a boil. Remove from heat, add the tea bags, and steep for 5 minutes. Remove tea bags without squeezing and set the brewed tea aside to cool slightly.
Make the blueberry syrup. In a small saucepan over medium heat, combine blueberries, sugar, and remaining 2 cups of water. Bring to a simmer, stirring occasionally, and cook for 8—10 minutes until blueberries have burst and the liquid is deeply colored and slightly thickened.
Strain the syrup. Pour the blueberry mixture through a fine-mesh strainer into a large pitcher, pressing the solids with the back of a spoon to extract all the liquid. Discard the solids.
Combine and chill. Add the brewed tea, lemon juice, and 2 cups of cold water to the pitcher with the blueberry syrup. Stir well to combine. Refrigerate for at least 2 hours until fully chilled.
Serve. Pour over ice into tall glasses. Garnish with fresh blueberries and lemon slices if desired.

Nutrition (per serving)

Blueberry Iced Tea — For the Rain-Porch Hours When You Finally Sit Still