Lemongrass tisane: from Southeast Asian kitchens

In a kitchen in Hoi An, in central Vietnam, the lemongrass grew in a long ceramic trough on the back porch. The plant looks like a clump of pale green grass with thicker stems near the soil. A neighbour came over with a small knife, cut three stalks at the base, brushed off the dirt against the side of the porch, and went back to her own house. The whole exchange took a minute and no words were exchanged.

Lemongrass, called sa in Vietnamese, takrai in Thai, and serai in Indonesian and Malay, is a kitchen plant before it is a beverage one. It flavours soups, marinades, curries, and grilled meats across most of mainland and maritime Southeast Asia. The tisane is a quieter use, an afternoon habit, a thing for when the day is too warm for a stronger drink and too long for plain water.

The plant in the pot

Lemongrass is Cymbopogon citratus, a tall tropical grass that grows in clumps and prefers warm, humid weather. In Southeast Asia it grows almost effortlessly in garden corners and large pots, sending up new stalks throughout the year. The bottom four or five inches of each stalk are the most flavorful part, with the pale, slightly bulbous base carrying the highest concentration of the citrus oils that give the plant its character.

The grassy upper leaves are not usually used for cooking, but they are perfect for tisane. Cooks often strip them off when preparing the stalks for stir-fries and dry them on a flat tray for tea later. Nothing is wasted. The kitchen runs on small economies.

How the cup is made

The simplest version uses fresh stalks. Two stalks are bruised firmly with the flat of a knife, then cut into one-inch pieces. They are placed in a small pot with three cups of water and brought to a low simmer for ten to fifteen minutes. The water turns pale yellow-green and the kitchen takes on a clean, almost lemon peel scent that is sharper and less sweet than actual lemon.

The brew is strained into glasses and taken either hot or cooled to room temperature. In Thailand and Indonesia, it is more often taken cool with a small amount of palm sugar or honey. In Vietnam, it tends to be taken hotter, sometimes with a thin slice of fresh ginger added to the pot.

“The grass is grown for the soup. The tea is what is left over. The leftover, in this kitchen, is also the best part of the afternoon.” (recorded from a small home stay kitchen, Da Nang, 2019)

The dried version

Outside Southeast Asia, fresh lemongrass can sometimes be hard to find, though Asian grocers usually carry it. Dried lemongrass, sold cut and sifted in small bags, is the more common option for home tisane in many countries. It works well, though it gives a slightly thinner cup than the fresh stalk.

A teaspoon of dried lemongrass per cup of water, steeped for five to seven minutes in just-boiled water, is the standard. Some prefer to simmer it briefly rather than steep, particularly for older dried stock that has lost some of its oils.

The afternoon glass

In a Vietnamese household the lemongrass tisane often appears in the late afternoon, after the heat has peaked. It is not a morning drink, not a strong stimulant, not a ceremonial pour. It is a quiet glass that signals the working day is mostly done. Children take it sweetened. Adults often take it plain.

Readers familiar with our notes on comfort and relaxation rituals will recognize this pattern, the small drink that marks a daily transition. The drink does not need to do anything in particular. Its job is to be the thing in the hand while the body slows down.

Variations across the region

In Thai cooking, lemongrass is often paired with kaffir lime leaf and galangal in soups, and these same companions sometimes find their way into a more complex tisane, particularly in the cooler months in the north. The result is more aromatic, less purely citrus, and is taken in smaller glasses.

In Indonesia, lemongrass is sometimes combined with pandan leaves, which give the drink a soft, almost vanilla-like undertone. This pairing is common in Javanese and Sundanese households, particularly in the afternoon. In the Philippines, salabat (ginger tea) sometimes includes lemongrass for brightness.

What lemongrass pairs with

The cup itself is light enough to drink alongside almost anything, but in its home kitchens it most often appears with rice-based snacks or fresh fruit. A glass of lemongrass tisane with a small piece of mango or papaya in late afternoon is a familiar Vietnamese pairing.

It also blends well with other warm-climate brews. Some households mix it with a small amount of hibiscus for colour, which we discussed in our note on the hibiscus cooler. Others add it to a base of fresh ginger and lemon, related to the kind of cup described in the ginger lemon honey water tradition. The lemongrass adds a brighter, more grassy top note.

The smell, the colour, the texture

One of the small pleasures of lemongrass is the kitchen smell. Crushing a fresh stalk releases a high, clean citrus aroma that does not linger heavily the way some herbs do. The cup itself is a soft yellow-green, never deeply coloured. The mouthfeel is thin and clean, with a faint sharpness on the swallow that some people describe as cooling.

This is part of why it suits the climate it grew up in. Heavy drinks do not fit the humidity. Lemongrass leaves the palate clearer than when it found it.

A quiet note on care

Lemongrass is generally well tolerated in modest amounts in Southeast Asian kitchens, but anyone pregnant, on regular medication, or unsure about a new daily herb will do well to speak quietly with a qualified practitioner. The plant is gentle but worth approaching with the same respect as any new habit.

The pot is set aside. The neighbour, three porches down, is doing the same thing in her own kitchen. The afternoon is slightly cooler than it was twenty minutes ago. Tomorrow, more stalks will be cut.

The ceramic trough on the porch is full of new shoots. The glass on the table is almost empty. There is no hurry to refill it.