In Memoriam: Eleanor Zelliot and Gujurati Special Railway Tea

Eleanor ZelliotWhen people ask me what led me to study South Asian history, the first thing I always tell them I fell in love with Rudyard Kipling’s Kim when I was eight. The second thing I tell them is that I had a wonderful professor at Carleton who inspired me.

Eleanor Zelliot’s memorial service is today. I can’t be there in person. Allow me to share this memory with you:

Masala chai–milky, sweet, and rich with spice–was once an Indian restaurant treat. Now it is offered as an exotic alternative in coffee shops and is available as a concentrated syrup on grocery shelves. But for anyone who studied South Asian history at Carleton College in Northfield, Minnesota, between 1969 and 1997, chai is not a product, it’s a memory–eternally linked to Saturday morning classes at Eleanor Zelliot’s house.

I was introduced to Eleanor’s “Special Masala Gujurati Railway Tea” the winter term of my freshman year. I grumbled about the idea of a Saturday class, but I signed up for her History 12 seminar on imperialism anyway, driven by my love for Kipling’s Kim, which was part of the curriculum. When I learned that we would meet at Eleanor’s house on Saturdays, I grumbled even more.

Minnesota’s winter had been an unhappy surprise when I came back from the Ozarks after Christmas break. Nothing in my past had prepared me for a wind chill of 40 below and snow that didn’t melt after two days. It was bad enough walking across campus. The thought of walking two blocks off-campus to Eleanor’s little green house was hellish. I pictured a weekly battle against biting wind, knee-deep snow and the uncertainties of walking on icy sidewalks

All my complaints were forgotten as soon as I stepped inside on the first Saturday of the term. Eleanor’s house was a revelation of warmth and comfort, full of deep chairs, Indian art, books, and enthusiastic houseplants. A fireplace took up most of the interior wall and that morning the fire in it was as cheerful as Fezziwig. A row of brightly-colored coffee pots stood warming on the hearth, filling the room with glorious smells of hot cider and something I couldn’t identify. If I hadn’t been confused by the unexpected coziness and blinded by my fogged-over glasses, I might have chosen the recognized pleasure of hot cider. Instead, I blindly accepted the mug of chai that one of my classmates thrust into my hands. The unfamiliar drink combined the warmth of Eleanor’s house and the exotic world of Kipling’s India in a mug. It was as innocent as hot cocoa and as sophisticated as mulled wine. I was hooked.

I drank quarts of Eleanor’s chai over the ten weeks of that cold winter term and during the years that followed. Twenty-five years later, chai remains one of my favorite winter treats. I love to recreate that moment of discovery with the welcome of a small fire and a thermos of Eleanor’s chai after a walk on a snowy afternoon. I occasionally buy a cup of coffee shop chai, but I’m always revolted disappointed. The commercial version, made from syrup, is too sweet and too shallow, without the spiced complexity of the real thing. And so I return to Eleanor’s recipe for “Special Masala Gujurati Railway Tea”, with its memories of a cold winter and the beginning of the warmest of friendships.

Eleanor Zelliot’s “Special Masala Gujurati Railway Tea”
(makes 4 teacups or two mugs)

2 cups water
2 cups milk
4 teaspoons black tea
2 cinnamon sticks
12 or more whole cloves
6 or more cardamom pods
2 tablespoons sugar, or to taste

Bring two cups of water to a boil; add tea and half the spices. Steep for 15-20 minutes, until very strong. Meanwhile, heat the milk over a low flame with the remaining spices. Strain the tea into the milk. Heat gently. Remove from stove, stir in sugar to taste, and relax.

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8 Comments

  1. Doug Cline on June 17, 2016 at 10:56 pm

    what I remember about that Imperialism seminar was the introduction to the smell and taste of true curie. Having grown up in the farm country of Maryland, my palate was not that developed. Learning about a new cuisine, seeing bocce ball for the first time, and being in the presence of a teacher who listened, shared and taught–all were hallmarks of this wonderful teacher. She is missed.

    • pamela on June 18, 2016 at 12:05 am

      I grew up in the Missouri Ozarks–definitely not known at the time for its multicultural food choices. Cooking Indian food at Eleanor’s house was a revelation. One that I’ve shared with dozens of friends over the years.

  2. Janet Tilden on June 17, 2016 at 11:45 pm

    Thank you for sharing this tribute to EZ. I never took a class from her, but I interviewed her once for an article in the Carletonian. Truly a memorable woman! She had a big influence on my husband Tom, who took many classes from her and was one of her advisees.

    • pamela on June 18, 2016 at 12:03 am

      I was also one of her advisees. She was an enormous influence on my life in general, not just my academic career

  3. Iris Seefeldt on June 18, 2016 at 4:27 pm

    Well, this article response tells me that you don’t need a monument to be remembered. Just a sampling of the people with whom she came in contact with is enough to tell the story of a real living, loving, person who was also a good teacher. Here in this country we need more of this sort of expose to prove human beings of anonymity are not to be discounted. Let us not be afraid to speak up for them. Thank you Pamela.

    • pamela on June 24, 2016 at 1:04 pm

      Nice!

  4. Jeff Kohler on June 25, 2016 at 11:07 am

    Eleanor Zelliot was a Tiger of an intellect; stealthy, quirky, and powerful, who always drew fascinating people and events together wherever she went. The glint in her eye as she subtly terrifically piercing questions was something one never forgets, and the fire and curiosity she ignited in others was as spicy and sweet as her delicious Railway Tea. She will be greatly missed.

  5. Jeff Kohler on June 25, 2016 at 11:08 am

    Eleanor Zelliot was a Tiger of an intellect; stealthy, quirky, and powerful, who always drew fascinating people and events together wherever she went. The glint in her eye as she subtly posed terrifically piercing questions was something one never forgets, and the fire and curiosity she ignited in others was as spicy and sweet as her delicious Railway Tea. She will be greatly missed.

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