
Chamomile Moon
A golden cup for the last hour of the day.
The kettle
60 organic blends. Filter by need, or search a symptom or a leaf. Kitchen tradition — not diagnosis or treatment.
60 recipes

A golden cup for the last hour of the day.

A pale cup that smells like sun-dried sheets.

The cup you pour when the meal is finished.

Fresh root, lemon, and a ribbon of honey.

Deep ruby, tart, and built for cold months.

Tart rose and a blush of hibiscus.

A ruby cooler for warm afternoons.

Holy basil for a clear, unhurried morning.

Red bush, vanilla, and a long quiet steep.

Deep green, earthy, and quietly fortifying.

A citrus-leaf cup for a tight afternoon.

Sweet seed tea for after a heavy plate.

The serious night cup. Earthy, quiet, strong.

Softer than peppermint, still a clean finish.

Coneflower, elder, and a spark of ginger.

Tulsi, lavender, and chamomile after dark.

A mild cup for a mind that will not sit down.

Lime-blossom tea for a tight evening.

A milky-green cup from the oat field.

Bitter, floral, and clearly for bedtime.

A green cup for a jaw that will not unclench.

A mint-family leaf, gentler than it sounds.

Sweet seed tea when fennel is not enough.

A simple bark decoction, warming and sweet.

Toasted root, coffee-dark, no caffeine.

Hay and almond, the old stomach flower.

A cold infusion that coats, not spices.

Thin slices, frequent sips, nothing heroic.

Peppermint and ginger when you cannot tell which you need.

Peel, ginger, and honey in a small cup.

The cup almost every kitchen already knows.

A pale, sweaty cup for the first shiver.

A short, strong cup you mostly gargle.

A bitter, old-field cup for a feverish night.

Inner bark mixed into a warm, coating drink.

A savory steam and a spoon of honey for the chest.

A filtered, fuzzy-leaf cup for a dry cough.

A sweet, coating pot for a dry throat.

Peel, clove, and cinnamon — a winter simmer.

A slow, mild root for the ordinary winter.

A bitter daisy for people who already know this plant.

A strong mint cup, and a warm cloth if you want one.

A pine-bright cup for a foggy head.

A tannic, tea-like cup through the month.

A warming pot for crampy days.

Dew-catching leaves, a dry, green cup.

Petals and a little ginger, kinder than it sounds.

A modest cup of real tea, not a latte.

Ginger, cardamom, cinnamon, and a little black tea.

The brightest lemon leaf in the cupboard.

A weak sage cup for a long page.

Pot-marigold petals, peppery and gold.

An earthy decoction, the old ‘blood tonic’ of the kitchen.

Magenta blossoms, a thin green-gold cup.

Turmeric, ginger, pepper, and a little honey.

Tart hips, ginger, and time — a stiff-day pot.

The pale threads from the ear, a mild water cup.

A green, mineral cup that makes you find the loo.

Bright yellow tops, a dry, honeyed cup.

A handful of the garnish, used on purpose.