The first time I had sun-tea, or had even heard of it, the Sorrenti family was on one of our favourite vacations: the road trip. It was one of these great pioneer adventures that landed us here on Gabriola. This time we were off to Disneyland and whatever else we could find in the two weeks allotted before we had to be back in Calgary.

We had been told by countless people that we had to go via Glacier National Park and take the Going-to-the-Sun Highway. As we approached the gates of the park in St. Mary, Montana, we saw a woodsy (some jaded tourists might even use the adjective “precious”) café called—wait for this one—the Park Café. It was lunch time, so we decided to stop.

The picturesque cabin reminded me of the dining rooms in summer camps and resorts I had been to in Ontario, or our own cottage when we were kids. There were wild flowers and herbs growing with apparent wild abandon, although I am sure some of this was planned. On the back stoop, I noticed a glass jug or jar (I’ve forgotten exactly) filled with a brownish liquid.

I was sure that if I ever went to the Moosewood restaurant in New York, this would be what it would be like. As we enjoyed our delicious lunches of burgers with nasturtium leaves and salads of the freshest baby greens—this was before mesclun mix hit the grocery stores— I asked our wholesome looking waitress what was in the jar, and she told me “sun-tea.” To which I immediately responded with a two-note “Ooo-oh!” that normally signifies understanding. I would figure it out later. This would also be the trip where my sons learned that when Americans say “iced tea,” they really mean it; tea, ice, and some lemon.

As we went on our way, thoughts of the tea were replaced by the terror of the next hour.  We were completely fogged in until we started the descent on the other side of the pass. It was only the red of the tail lights immediately in front of us that kept us from going over the steep edge.  Boy; there had better be sun at the end of this highway! And there was. Once we could see again, we were stunned by the grand scenery surrounding us. It was definitely worth the fear-factor.

Back home, looking through my journal, I remembered the sun-tea. I imagined how back-to-nature I would appear if I kept a jar of tea steeping on my back porch. I didn’t have a back stoop then; I would have to make do with a deck. My friends would all think I was so together; so barefoot-in-the-daisies.

It’s a simple recipe: a 4-litre jar, water, tea (herbal or regular; bagged or loose), and sun. Then you leave it in the sun until you have achieved the colour and flavour you like. This might take a few experimentations.

Because the tea doesn’t boil, steeping slowly in warm water, the natural flavouring oils of the tea will not burn, and you will attain a mellower flavour than regularly brewed tea.  It is perfect for making iced tea. You can also be daring, and flavour the tea with various herbs such as lavender, mint, or lemon balm. Doesn’t it sound just all so natural and organic?

Well, watch out!  Just like ants who can ruin a perfectly bucolic picnic, here come the health-watch guys. Turns out that sun-tea can be bad for your health. You can practically hear those ants marching across the picnic blanket, carrying off the sun-tea and the egg-salad sandwiches they feel have been left in the sun too long.

Teas harbour bacteria commonly found in soil and water, Alcaligenes viscolactis. As the name suggests, if left in a warm spot too long, they will multiple and form strands that turn liquids viscous. Boiling tea kills these bugs. If allowed to grow, they can cause stomach upsets and even diarrhea. According to some medical reports, even boiled tea should not be left out all day. Who ever heard of tea going bad!

One suggestion is that sun tea be made in the refrigerator! Doesn’t that just seem wrong to you? Do these guys think that the refrigerator light stays on after the door is closed? (Does it?)

Restaurants are not supposed to serve sun tea at all, unless it is really “refrigerator” tea. If you are going to do it at home—and I do— a more moderate compromise is to leave the tea in the sun for only 4-5 hours before putting it into the fridge. I have tried this a few times, and I seem to survive.  I like my ice tea made with Earl Grey green tea and instead of lemon, I prefer fresh lime. Maybe the citric acid in the limes destroys the bacteria, the reason behind the lime in the neck of Mexican beer bottles. In Mexico, that isn’t just an affectation.

It’s just so hard to have a simple life these days.