When I was in high school, I took a course in psychology. During a lesson on sensory input, I learned the answer to a question that I had wondered about for a while: why do certain smells trigger such a strong sense of nostalgia? Turns out there is quite a literal connection between scent and emotional memories. Our sense of smell is governed by the olfactory nerve, which relays sensory information to other parts of the brain. The creation of memories associated with smells often involves the amygdala- the emotional center of the brain. While the amygdala is often associated with negative emotions, such as fear or anger, it is also responsible for the positive emotions of happiness, comfort, and calm.

Considering how much our sense of smell is engaged when we enjoy a cup of tea, it's no surprise that a certain tea can hold so many memories and emotions. For me, that tea would be chamomile. Growing up in a Polish household, our cabinet was always stocked with herbal teas. There was usually lemon balm (known as melisa in Polish), as well as raspberry (malinowy) or rose hips (dzika ra). Chamomile, called rumianek, is definitely one of the most popular herbal remedies in Poland. It has been used for hundreds of years to help with insomnia, anxiety, and upset stomach.

For me, the scent of chamomile is inextricably linked to the women in my family. It's fitting, since the latin name for chamomile is Matricaria Chamomilla. It comes from the latin word matrix, meaning womb, which stems from matris: 'of the mother'. When I was younger, if I was having trouble falling asleep, my mother would make a cup of chamomile and sit with me until I felt tired. If I was sick, she would bring me chamomile with honey to soothe my sore throat. When I was taking swimming lessons, my grandma would soak my hair with chamomile to help with the chlorine damage. Since chamomile also lightens hair, the tea rinse ended up making my already Goldilocks-blonde hair even blonder. She used to joke that if I used enough chamomile, my hair would go white just like hers.

My mom emigrated to the United States from Poland when she was just 17. One of the first jobs she held was at a Polish herbal store. She worked under a woman named Ala, a pharmacist and herbalist who also grew up in Poland. My grandmother wouldn't be able to join my mom in the United States for another few years, so Ala took on the role of a mentor and mother figure to my mom. After the herbal store, she worked a series of other jobs, and eventually put herself through school.

There are many pieces of who I am that can be directly traced back to the women in my family. From my mom, I inherited an immigrant work ethic, compassion, and a problem-solving attitude. On the more idiosyncratic side of things, I also seem to have inherited a very fast walking speed. That one comes from my great grandmother. According to my mom, she would always tell her family to 'walk like they have someplace to be'. Ironically, my directional sense comes entirely from my dad's side of the family.


From my babcia (grandmother), I inherited a sense of hospitality, and a penchant for showing affection through food. Hospitality is extremely important in Polish culture. My babcia often had guests over, and those guests were treated like royalty. There is a word in Polish, czastowa, that roughly translates to 'serve' or 'distribute'. The exact meaning references an attitude of generosity towards guests, offering them food or drink to make them more comfortable.

I love baking, but I mostly love baking for others. I developed this recipe to create something specifically for my mother. She enjoys desserts, but tends to be put off by anything overly sweet. The delicate floral flavor of chamomile ended up fitting the bill quite nicely! Since my mother absolutely adores coconut, I decided to incorporate it into the recipe as well.

My main challenge in developing this recipe was figuring out how to get the delicate flavor of chamomile to actually come through. For most dessert recipes involving tea, my go-to method is to steep the tea in milk over a low heat. Unfortunately, when I steeped the chamomile in just coconut milk, the flavor got lost slightly. Adding water helped to dilute the fat content in the coconut milk, making it easier for the chamomile flavor to permeate.

I ultimately landed on the simple syrup as the best way to incorporate the chamomile. Using simple syrup is an old trick that helps keep cakes moist and enhances the flavor of the cake. With an herbal tea like chamomile, you want to be able to steep at a high temperature for as long as possible, something that you can't really accomplish with a milk infusion unless you want the milk to end up boiling over. Since simple syrup needs to reach a high temperature for the sugar to dissolve anyways, it ended up working perfectly as a medium for the chamomile flavor.

I wanted to pair the cake with a light and fluffy frosting, so I figured I could use the remaining simple syrup to make a meringue buttercream. Since I used coconut milk instead of regular milk to add an extra hint of coconut, I went ahead and made the rest of the recipe dairy free. Both the cake and the frosting are made using vegetable shortening instead of butter. If you don't mind adding in some dairy, feel free to substitute some or all of it with butter. Just keep in mind that adding butter will make the frosting less stable and more likely to melt.

I'm really happy with how the cake turned out- tender, light, and chamomile-y. It definitely got my mom's seal of approval. From my family to yours, smacznego!

Get the recipe over at TeaChef!