One of my favorite things about the chillying weather (despite frequent deluges, this past week must be one of the most beautimous in New York history… also helps that Sweetheart and I have been listening to Billie Holliday on repeat) is the transition from cold brew coffee back to plain old dark and delicious hot coffee. But despite my militant affection for coffee, there’s just something about late autumn afternoons that seems to require tea. It’s such a lovely little ritual- the loose leaf Hediard that Maman and I got in Paris (and that Sweetheart replenishes from McNulty’s), the old copper kettle, with its real throaty whistle, the time and steep. Just a little honey for me, always.
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