Iced tea has been called the house wine of the South. Rick Bragg once wrote that a glass of iced tea can tell you just about everything you need to know about where you are and who you’re with. He wasn’t wrong. Around here, iced tea is just part of how things are done. It shows up early and sticks around.

These days, I drink about five glasses of iced tea at breakfast. Unsweet, with just a splash of Stevia. I can stretch a single Stevia packet through all five glasses. That’s the current chapter. It took a while to get here.

I consider myself a Southerner to the core. The crazy thing is, I didn’t drink a glass of iced tea until I was 18. Before that, milk was the drink of choice. My brother and I went through about a gallon a day between the two of us – half a gallon at breakfast and half a gallon at supper. Meatloaf, pizza, fried chicken – it didn’t matter. Milk was on the table, and we drank it willingly. Our mom didn’t force it. Tons of milk as a kid, and not a single broken bone to show for it. Draw your own conclusions.

The first glass of iced tea came courtesy of hard labor and low wages. In the summer of 1980, I worked for my brother’s landscaping company, laying sod in Mississippi heat that could either knock the ambition right out of you or make a strong case for staying in college, depending on how you looked at it. I don’t remember what minimum wage was back then, but it wasn’t much, and lunch money was tight.

The crew liked to eat at North Heights, a classic meat-and-three in Hattiesburg that stayed open 24 hours. You got your meat and three vegetables, and iced tea came with the plate. Soft drinks cost a dollar extra. I was counting-change-in-the-sofa-cushions broke, and a dollar mattered. Iced tea wasn’t a preference; it was practical, and practicality was doing most of the deciding.

The tea was cold. It was wet. It did its job. Good enough, but it didn’t change my life. For the next couple of decades, soft drinks were still the main attraction, with iced tea making occasional cameos.

When the first restaurant I worked at – the Purple Parrot Café – opened, we served iced tea with a sprig of mint and a slice of orange. The mint came from my grandmother, who always added it when guests were coming over. She kept a generous patch growing by the back door. The orange slice came from somewhere else – I don’t remember where – but orange and mint play pretty well together. Still do.

Somewhere in my 40s, I began slowly breaking up with carbonated beverages. Iced tea showed up more often, especially at lunch – half and half for a while, then a long relationship with Arnold Palmers. By my 50s, the switch was final. These days, a couple of quarts at breakfast isn’t unusual, followed by several glasses at lunch and a few more at dinner. After breakfast, I go for unsweet tea with just a splash of sweet tea. Water fills the gaps, with a goal of about a gallon a day. Hydration is no longer optional at this age. It’s a requirement.

In most Southern restaurants, iced tea just arrives and keeps coming. Nobody explains it. Nobody makes a big deal of it. It’s part of the table, like silverware and napkins. Tea became the habit without much discussion.

Travel complicates things. In most of Europe, iced tea simply isn’t a thing. They love their coffee, especially the Italians. I am not a fan. I like the smell of coffee, the idea of coffee, coffee shop conversations and every romantic notion attached to it. I just don’t like the taste. Every 10 years or so, I think – maybe I’m a grown-up now. Maybe I like coffee. I take a sip. Nope. Still tastes like coffee.

Hot tea came into my life through the side door. A sore throat in Italy and a group to host didn’t leave many choices. Tea with honey got me through it. Time spent later in England, Scotland and Ireland turned hot tea into something I actually enjoy. Cream tea, especially, stuck.

Cream tea is the British tradition of hot tea served with scones, clotted cream and preserves. Simple and honest. For years, scones never impressed me. The ones stateside – including many I made in my own bakery – seemed dry. In England, that problem disappears. Soft. Moist. Fresh. Built for clotted cream and jam. Add a pot of English Breakfast tea with honey, and the whole thing makes sense.

As a 64-year-old man, sitting down with a proper cup of English tea almost makes me feel like an adult. Almost. Hot tea still feels slightly unexpected, even at this age.

Some drinks come and go. Trends pass quickly and leave just as fast. Iced tea never left. It waited patiently while other choices had their moment. There is something comforting about that kind of quiet confidence.

That glass sitting on the table at breakfast, sweating in the Mississippi heat, feels earned now. Not fancy. Not dramatic. Just right. A long way from that first glass at 18. Right where it belongs.

Onward.

ORANGE CRANBERRY MUFFINS

Makes 12 muffins

Muffin ingredients:
2 cups all-purpose flour
1 1/2 teaspoons baking soda
1/2 teaspoon baking powder
1/2 teaspoon kosher salt
1/2 cup granulated sugar
1/2 cup light brown sugar, packed
2 tablespoons orange zest, divided
1/2 cup unsalted butter, melted
1/2 cup half-and-half
2 large eggs
1/4 cup fresh orange juice, plus 2 tablespoons for the glaze
1 teaspoon pure vanilla extract
1 teaspoon orange extract
1 1/2 cups fresh cranberries
1 1/2 cups confectioner’s sugar

Glaze ingredients:
2 tablespoons fresh orange juice
1 tablespoon orange zest
1 1/2 cups confectioner’s sugar

Muffin directions:
■ Preheat oven to 400 F.
■ In a large mixing bowl, combine flour, baking soda, baking powder and salt. Mix well.
■ In a separate bowl, whisk together granulated sugar, brown sugar, 1 tablespoon orange zest, melted butter, half-and-half, eggs, 1/4 cup orange juice, vanilla extract and orange extract until well combined.
■ Using a wooden spoon or rubber spatula, gently stir the wet mixture into the dry mixture. Stir just until no dry ingredients remain visible; avoid overmixing. Fold in the cranberries.
■ Line a muffin tin with paper baking cups. Fill each cup three-quarters full with batter.
■ Bake 17 to 19 minutes, or until a toothpick inserted into the center comes out clean. Let muffins cool while preparing the glaze.

Glaze directions:
■ In a small bowl, stir together orange juice, orange zest and confectioner’s sugar until smooth. The glaze should be thick but pourable.
■ Once muffins have cooled, remove from the tin, place on a serving platter, and drizzle with the glaze.

Tip: These muffins freeze well. Make them ahead of time and drizzle with glaze just before serving. Perfect for gifting or enjoying with a hot cup of coffee on a chilly December morning.

Robert St. John is a restaurateur, author, enthusiastic traveler, and world-class eater from Hattiesburg, Mississippi. He has spent four decades in the restaurant industry, written 13 books, and written a syndicated newspaper column for more than 24 years. Read more about Robert at robertstjohn.com.

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