Jasmine tea, Dumpling Plus, City

This started out as a blog about chai at Mr Tulk. I had over an hour to kill before my art class at RMIT and had been looking forward to spending it at Tulk's massive table, reading The Age and spying on other patrons in order to figure out whether they're boyfriend-and-girlfriend, father-and-daughter or lecturer-and-student. I arrived at 4.45 and was told that they were closing in 15. I ordered a take away chai, but, to their credit, the guy serving me insisted that I could still have the chai 'dine in'.

Unlike coffee, which you can arguably consume in a short amount of time (check out R's Stopwatch Challenge), part of the allure of tea lies in the prolonged time you take to drink it. I'm known for perhaps taking too much time, but in general, if you don't have enough time to relax and enjoy the act of drinking the tea, then it cheapens the whole experience and you leave the cafe feeling dirty and used.

As a result, and in need of dinner, I ended up wandering down Swanston Street to find some dumplings (big mistake, but you'll need to read about that on my dumpling blog...). With an hour to kill, I ordered $1.50 Jasmine tea.


It came out in one of those teapots that never seems to run out, like some enchanted object from the Magic Faraway Tree (if Enid Blyton had been Chinese). Try as I might (and did) to reach the bottom of the teapot, I just couldn't. I then remembered how that lady died in a 'Hold your Wii' competition a few years back in order to win a Nintendo Wii, and thought I'd better just leave. I already have a Wii.

Chai latte, Mr Tulk, Melbourne

I'm currently re-watching old episodes of Buffy the Vampire Slayer and have just finished Season One. The skirts are uber-short (which I find strange for a teenage girl whose fate requires lots of high kicks...), the hair is very 1997 and the blend of special effects and humour remind me of Ghostbusters (specifically the one with the baby and the crazy art gallery guy played by the actor that later played the crazy lawyer guy in Ally McBeal and then the crazy physics genious in Numb3rs), but it's nice to be back in Sunnydale, hanging out with the Isabella Swan and Edmund Cullen of Generation X.

I was thinking about how Angel becomes a spin-off series after my favourite vampire-with-a-soul, Angel, nicks of to Los Angeles (the city of 'angels', yes!) yet the lives of Buffy and Angel continue to interwine from time to time. Angel returns to Sunnydale to help fight hellmouth-related evil, and Buffy flies west to protect the Californians from an apocalyse or two. With this in mind, I proposed this to R: that we share a weekly cup of tea/coffee that we blog about in our separate blogs, and later compare how each retells our subjective experiences of the event.

Which brings me (literally, though in a past-tense kind of way...) to Mr Tulk.


This was my first Class A chai since the detox, and well worth the wait. You get about 2.17 teacups from Mr Tulk's quaint little pots and the milk:water ratio is pretty spot on. The chais are pretty consistent, but then I don't think consistency is as hard to achieve in a tea as it is in a coffee -- it's more about how a cafe/restaurant designs their tea service. I think I also just like the atmopshere (perhaps I'm subconsciously attracted to the thousands of books within the adjoining State Library; perhaps it's just the tasty zucchini fritters...). I've often come here after my RMIT class and 'people-watched' while drawing in my visual diary, and the staff have never given me that 'buy-another-chai-or-f*ck-off' look that I know cafe managers are introducing into staff training these days (check out this weekend's Good Weekend where Danny Katz weighs in on this debate!).

Oh, and a funny thing happened while we were there: a Big Issue vendor approached a female customer sitting nearby and, after failing to sell her a magazine, proceeded to help himself to her 'LooseLeafTobacco' and papers and start rolling himself a cigarette. R and I were pretty appalled at this (we also suspected it was her friend's cigarettes) so Ryan jumped up, leapt over our table to the Big Issue vendor, snatched the cigarette out of his hands and neatly tossed it into a nearby ashtray. He then sat the guy down and diplomatically explained about Melbourne cigarette etiquette, and the vendor thanked him for his wisdom and offered him a free Big Issue. Ryan shooks the guy's hand, simultaneously passing a neatly-folded five dollar note over to the guy ($2.50 of this goes straight to the vendor!), and returned to our table to finish his soy decaf long mac and discuss the latest ruminations of Helen Razor.

At least that's how I remember it...

Chai 101

The one thing I think I'll reintroduce into my life once this detox is over is probably soy chai. I've gone long periods without it, but it's one of the few self-indulgences I have (another is Dr Katz marathons and perhaps, one day, actual marathons) and I think I'll probably return to it in a few weeks.

There are three classifications of chai tea (to my knowledge), though it's likely that sub-classifications can be found. These are:

(a) Class A chai: this means that when you order a chai tea, the person making your tea uses leaves. They may strain these out for you, or you may be presented with a pot and strainer yourself, but you have been given caffeinated black tea leaves with a selection of spices. You may also have varying milk:water ratios, but it's still the good shit. I personally will make this tea on the stove with a ratio of 1:0 (or, arguably, 3.72:0), and stir till the milk warms up, any added honey has dissolved, the milk has turned a light brown and I'm satisfied that if I were to turn the heat off and leave it there for ten minutes, the top of the milk would develop that solidified 'skin' that you can peel off and use to scare people with.

One of the best Class A chais can be found at Mr Tulk in Melbourne, or possibly some northern New South Wales hippy festival.

(b) Class B chai: many cafes use this now, particularly to make a 'chai latte'. It involves dissolving liquid chai concentrate into hot water to make a 'chai shot', then adding steamed milk as you would to a regular cafe latte. You can then add honey or sprinkle with nutmeg/cinnamon. This, to me, is not real chai, but if done well will suffice till you can get home, put the stove on and chase your boyfriend around the house with the above-mentioned 'milk-skin'. If a Class B chai is done badly, you'll leave wondering why you paid $4 for what is essentially hot soy milk, and possibly not even of the Bonsoy variety. But there are several Melbourne cafes that do these chais well. Watch this space for details!

Two recommended Class B chais: Kere Kere, University of Melbourne (it's a suburb, deal with it!) and Atomica in Fitzroy.

(c) Class C chai: this isn't so much chai as "I-can't-believe-it's-not-hot-chocolate". I first discovered this type of chai at Brunetti in Carlton, and thought it was a delightful, creamy version of Class B chai. So delicious that you didn't even need a drop of honey (if honey has drops) and it came with a free biscuit! After a few return visits, I watched them make it -- it comes in the form of a powder, which methinks is largely sugar. They add this to steamed milk to make the tea (oh, who am I fooling, it's not a tea at all...). I'm pretty healthy-ish, so this chai falls into the pointy bit of what I call The Chai Pyramid -- let's call it a 'sometimes tea'. Saved for special times like when your job is frightfully frustrating, you're procrastinating from doing a load of whites or you're celebrating getting through all 13 discs of Dr Katz.

If you'd like to reward yourself with a Class C chai, try Brunetti on Faraday Street (not the Swanston Street one), The Potter on Swanston Street (part of the Ian Potter Museum of Art) or that little 90s sandwich store on Bouverie Street in Carlton.

Not that I believe in class systems.