Caramel-Chai Tea Latte

Labor Day weekend and the shift into September's different quality of light. The angle of the sun changes in a way that is technically measurable and experientially vivid — the light comes in lower now, golden in the morning, and the afternoons have begun to shorten in a way that was not present in August. The garden is still in full production, still green and heavy with fruit, but something in the air is telling both the garden and the gardener that the arc is bending toward its conclusion.

The Labor Day ribs were on schedule — I have made them for this holiday for thirty years and the tradition requires no justification or modification. Ted and Patricia and the boys came over, David's forestry schedule permitting only a few hours in the afternoon. Owen has grown three inches since last Labor Day and now reaches my shoulder, which I mention only because I noticed it when he stood beside me at the smoker asking his questions, his notebook appearing from his back pocket on schedule. This year he wanted to know how I knew when the ribs were done without a thermometer. I told him the bend test — pick up the rack from the center and if the ends droop heavily and the bark cracks at the fold, the connective tissue has broken down and the ribs are done. He bent a rack himself under supervision and felt the flex and said, quietly, "I can feel that." I told him that was exactly how you learn to cook: not by reading about what something should feel like but by feeling it.

Bill and I talked about our summer reviews. He had had a successful garden season by his accounting — more vegetables than he could eat alone, which meant the neighbor David had been a beneficiary, and the strawberries had finally produced a real crop. He was already planning the maple expansion for next February. He said the summer had been the first in several years when he had felt genuinely settled in his life in Maine, comfortable in his own days in a way that the years right after his wife died had not allowed. He said he thought the garden had something to do with it. I told him I thought so too.

Once David had to leave and the boys had wandered off and the smoker had gone quiet, Patricia and Bill and I sat on the back porch in that low September light and I made a round of these caramel-chai lattes — something I’d started doing a few years ago as a way of marking the turn of the season, the moment when you want something warm in your hands even though the day hasn’t technically earned it yet. Bill said it tasted like a decision to be comfortable, which I thought was exactly right, given what he’d been telling me about his year.

Prep Time: 5 min | Cook Time: 10 min | Total Time: 15 min | Servings: 2

Ingredients

2 cups whole milk
2 chai tea bags
2 tablespoons caramel sauce, plus more for drizzling
1 tablespoon brown sugar
1/2 teaspoon vanilla extract
1/4 teaspoon ground cinnamon
Pinch of ground nutmeg
Whipped cream, for topping (optional)

Instructions

Steep the tea. In a small saucepan over medium heat, warm the milk until it just begins to steam — do not boil. Remove from heat, add the chai tea bags, and steep for 5 minutes. Remove the bags, squeezing gently to extract flavor.
Sweeten and spice. Return the saucepan to low heat. Whisk in the caramel sauce, brown sugar, vanilla extract, cinnamon, and nutmeg until fully dissolved and the mixture is smooth and fragrant.
Froth if desired. For a café-style finish, use an immersion blender or hand frother to create a light foam on the surface of the warm milk mixture.
Serve. Pour into two mugs. Top with whipped cream if using, drizzle with additional caramel sauce, and finish with a light dusting of cinnamon.

Nutrition (per serving)

Caramel-Chai Tea Latte — The Drink That Ended the Day Right