Sometimes you have to post about things you tried that you like, because your friends will find them boring.

This here tea, for instance. I love tea. Tea is what my friends and I would hunker over late at night in high school, dishing gossip and making fun of people and pointedly not mentioning how none of us had the wherewithal to procure a fake ID. Tea: the thing I do when I want to stand up and take a break from writing but don’t want to admit that that’s the plan. Tea: the source of many of my calories when living in England on precious saved dollars when the pound was soaring.

A recent crackdown on caffeine use led to this revelation:

Sunshine m-f-ing dust

Not long ago, my doctor recommended I try turmeric supplements. (For my gut. That’s all I’ma say about that.) Which is great, because I love turmeric. Next to my bff cardamom, it’s my favorite of the spice family (so, like, Ginger Spice to cardamom’s Scary Spice. Yes. Scary was my favorite. Deal.).

I toyed with using pills and extracts, or sneaking copious amounts of powdered turm into oatmeal (note: there is no “sneaking” turmeric into anything. Your bright, marigold-hued teeth and utensils will bely you).

Then, out of St. Louis, comes this magic dust. Full disclosure: it’s my boyfriend’s friend’s company. That’s why we had it in the house. They’re not my friends, though. I’ve never met them. So I feel confident in endorsing this, because he doesn’t tell me what to do, and because it’s legit magic.

Ground ginger, turmeric, peppercorn, lemongrass, and nothing else. Cheap it is not, but it is potent, and a little goes far. It comes in a loose powder, which you make into mush with a splash of hot liquid, then blend into a cup of water or milk, like matcha. Much like matcha, mixing this up in my kitchen makes me feel like an alchemist, which, needless to say, is a nice addition to any day.  It’s spicy and pungent and with a little bit of honey just fills me with joy. Not sure if it actually helps the old gut, but I don’t especially care.

The other revelation of this week is using my bf’s javelin thermometer for EVERYTHING. I’d previously thought this instrument was only used for large cuts of meat (his specialty) and doing health inspection dry-runs at restaurants (the part of restaurant management that always made me feel like a SCIENTIST). But apparently you can measure the temperature for just about anything, and it makes everything better. Best temp for brewing tea? 165-175 degrees, apparently. Temp difference between a cocktail shaken for 10 seconds as opposed to 30? Astounding. My sourdough starter has never felt so comfy and taken-care-of. If I can please the yeasts, then I feel downright shamanic, too.