I still remember the night well. Interestingly enough, it was my wife that introduced me to my paramour. Perhaps accidentally or perhaps to infuse our relationship with something new or something infinitely passionate, she placed the box of rooibos tea in the cupboard and “forgot about it” as she put away the remainder of the groceries. Intrigued and maybe a little turned on, I glanced at the box quickly before she shut the cupboard door.

Later that night, while my wife lay sleeping, I crept out of bed. Fretfully, I fidgeted for the lights and opened the cabinet. There it was, sitting in a simple box mocking me with its lustre, with its dynamic facade. In a fit of ardour that represented the zenith of the day’s inquisitiveness and the built-up strain, I tore into the box and boiled some water.
I don’t need to tell you what happened next…

Since that night of passion, my affair with rooibos has continued and, amazingly or not, expanded. When my wife discovered my illicit love, she was not angered and she was not traumatized. In fact, she was thrilled and she joined in much as I always hoped she would should Scarlett Johansson ever return my calls.

So now, today, on a perfect evening, it is a cup of rooibos that sits alongside my wife and me. Its ruby colour, its charm, and its zest dances on the tongue like some audacious, spirited tango.

For centuries, only the Khoisans in South Africa knew about rooibos. Used regularly as an herbal remedy for a wide range of maladies, the secret of rooibos almost vanished when the tribe dwindled away and eventually disappeared. In 1772, botanist Carl Humberg rediscovered rooibos and brought it back as a beverage because of its delectable, sweet qualities.

Rooibos tea was enjoyed by South Africans, mainly, but Russian immigrant Benjamin Ginsberg soon realized the marketing potential of the herb and began offering the tea worldwide. The reputation of the tea rose during World War II as the accessibility of “real” tea from Asia became sparse.