There’s almost always a jar of sun tea in our fridge from late spring through early fall. It’s been that way my whole life. Carol made it. Meemaw made iced tea too, though we’ll get to that disaster in a minute. By the time I was old enough to reach the front patio door, I knew the routine: fill the jar, drop in the tea bags, set it in the sun, forget about it for a while, drink it cold over ice.

If you’ve never made sun tea, the first thing to know is that it’s smoother than tea brewed with boiling water. The sun never gets the water hot enough to pull the bitter tannins out of the leaves, so what you end up with is mellow and clean instead of astringent. The second thing to know is that it’s almost impossible to mess up. You can over-steep it (it just gets stronger), you can forget about it for three hours (fine), you can use whatever jar is clean (also fine). The sun does not care.

I use one of these Anchor-Hocking juice pitchers because that’s what I have. If they’re in use for something else (actual juice, cocktails, whatever), I’ll use a half gallon Mason jar. Cold filtered water to the top, 3 family-sized tea bag, lid on loose. Then I set it anywhere that gets full afternoon sun, and walk away. Two to three hours is the sweet spot. If I forget and it sits four hours, the tea is just bolder, and bolder tea is not a problem.

The tea: I use Luzianne. This isn’t brand loyalty for its own sake (well, mostly); Luzianne is blended for iced tea, which means it doesn’t cloud up and go bitter the way some hot-brew blends do when they cool. Mom used it and I’m not about to be the one who breaks the streak. Three family-size bags in two quarts of water is my ratio. If all you’ve got is Lipton or a pantry orphan, it’ll still work; it just won’t taste like my childhood, which, frankly, is on you and not the tea.

The method is the whole thing. Clean jar, cold water, tea bags, lid, sun. Three to four hours on a bright day and you’re done. You’ll know it’s ready when it’s gone a deep amber-red and the light comes through it like a church window.

Sun tea brewing in a glass jar on a deck rail, tea bags steeping in the afternoon sun — Three or four hours of Georgia sun doing the work while I did none of it.

Now. The food-safety folks have Opinions about sun tea, and here’s the part where I tell you they’re not wrong. Sun tea never gets hot enough to actually pasteurize, which means a warm jar sitting out all day is, technically, a nice little environment for bacteria to think about moving in. The fix is not complicated and I’m not going to be precious about it: start with a scrupulously clean jar, don’t let it brew longer than about four hours, get it in the fridge the second it’s done, and drink it within a day or two. If it ever turns thick, ropy, or slick-looking, that’s your sign; pour it out and don’t argue. In 30 some-odd years I’ve never had a bad batch, but I’ve also never left one baking on the deck for a whole day. If the whole idea makes you twitchy, brew the exact same jar in the refrigerator overnight instead. It’s slower, it’s just as good, and the sun never has to know.

About sweetening: I don’t sweeten the jar. This is heresy in some Southern households, I know, and I’ve made my peace with it. What I do instead is keep a little bottle of simple syrup in the fridge, because simple syrup dissolves clean into cold tea in a way that granulated sugar simply will not (you can stir sugar into iced tea until your arm falls off and still find a gritty little civilization at the bottom of the glass). Syrup means everybody sweetens their own to taste, and it means I can get fancy later. Which, spoiler, I’m about to; a whole post on flavored syrups, mint and ginger and citrus, is coming in a couple of weeks. For today, plain and perfect is plenty.

A carafe of finished sun tea next to a glass of ice and a bottle of simple syrup — The whole operation: brewed tea, a glass of ice, and a bottle of simple syrup

Which brings me to Meemaw.

Meemaw could cook just about anything; her cornbread is still carved into the granite of my soul. But her iced tea was bad. I’m sorry. It was. She boiled it on the stove, which extracted every bitter tannin in the leaves, and then she’d dose it with lemon and sugar like she was trying to cover the evidence. She wasn’t covering anything; the tea tasted like punishment. I loved that woman with my whole heart, and I will not lie about her tea.

Mom’s sun tea, on the other hand, was perfect. That’s the tea I grew up drinking. That’s the tea I still make. And that’s the tea that lives in our fridge from May to October, ready for whoever walks through the door.

Because that’s the other thing about sun tea, the part that’s harder to put into a recipe. It’s hospitality. It’s “can I get you something to drink?” and tea is always on the list, right alongside water and Coke and soda water. There’s a jar in the fridge. There’s a glass in the cabinet. There’s ice in the freezer. And there’s a jar of simple syrup if you want it sweet. Sit down for a minute. Tell me what’s going on with you.

That’s not a flourish. That’s just what tea is for.

Notes

On cloudy days: Sun tea still works; it just takes longer. Give it an extra hour or two and check on it. If it’s actively raining or below 50°F, skip it and brew tea the regular way or cold brew it overnight.

On food safety: I’ve never had a problem with sun tea, and the science backs that up as long as you’re using clean water and commercial tea bags and bringing it inside within a few hours. The rule I follow: in by hour four, in the fridge by hour five. Don’t leave it sitting out overnight; you’d be surprised what wants to grow in a warm jar of tea.

On simple syrup: Equal parts sugar and water, heated until the sugar dissolves, cooled, kept in the fridge. If you want to get fancy, steep some ginger in it, or add some lemon peel or orange peel.

On tea selection: This is the fun part. Try black and herbal blends together. Lemon and hibiscus is bright and pretty. Black tea with a ginger bag is good for a hot afternoon when you want a little kick. Mint bags with regular black tea give you something close to a Moroccan iced tea. There’s no wrong answer.

Print Recipe

Sun Tea and Simple Syrup

Ingredients

For the tea;

8 cups cold filtered water
3-4 eac family sized tea bags or 6-8 regular sized ones

For the simple syrup

¾ cup white sugar
¾ cup water

For serving

lemon, lime, mint, or any other desired flavor or garnish

Instructions

Fill a clean half-gallon glass jar (mason jar, pitcher, whatever you’ve got) with cold filtered water.
Add the tea bags. Let the tags hang over the rim if you can; it makes fishing them out easier later.
Set the jar in direct sunlight. A sunny windowsill works, but outside on a patio or porch is better.
Steep 2 to 3 hours. If you forget and it goes 4, no harm done. Just don’t leave it out all day.
Bring the jar inside. Remove and discard the tea bags. Refrigerate until cold.
While the tea is brewing or cooling, make the symple syrup
Put the sugar and water into a small pot and bring to a rapid boil for 5 mins
Allow the syrup to cool and then strain into a jar and keep it in the fridge.
Pour the tea over ice. Add lemon, simple syrup, or mint if you want. Or don’t.

P.S. To my fellow unsweetened-tea Southerners: I see you. We exist. We are valid.

P.P.S. I still maintain that Meemaw’s iced tea was the worst thing she ever made, and I will defend this position in any court of law. Her cornbread, however, was a religious experience.

P.P.P.S. Celestial Seasonings herbal blends make a lovely caffeine-free sun tea if you want something for the evening; I didn’t shoot it for this post, but Red Zinger in the sun is a genuinely gorgeous color.

Sun Tea: The Slowest, Easiest Iced Tea You’ll Ever Make