You’ve Asked How You Could Prepare My Tea by Kourtnie McKenzie While I'd rather avoid this velocity, you can try to steep a bag of London black tea with orange peel, sweet clove, and three kinds of cinnamon. You’ll find Cassia in the ceramic jar; Ceylon in the metal tin; and Saigon in the cedar box, next to the bamboo spoons. Now leave the tea in the back of the fridge for three to five days. Then rub around the rim of the mug to get the clove that sticks tight, and scoop any foam that lingers— —that lasts— —but these instructions go past the neat, orderly listing that helps keep me within the rhythm of time. You see why I will always hide the secrets of my tea, when you can't replicate the synchronicity of orange and cinnamon whorl, the perfect heat rising in temperature? You're at risk for misleading a ritual that keeps me on track, until I want to shake you, the way you shake your leg at night while you groan through sleep.