go ahead and chai me

Over the past two weeks, I've stopped drinking coffee. For the segment of my blog-reading audience comprised of ex-boyfriends, this will seem a near impossibility; in the past, I've stopped only to become morose and listless, after some period of which I would embark upon a Hajj to Starbucks, followed by bliss and relief, a revelry of neurons and spirits.

This time, I stopped drinking coffee when I had the flu, and then started reading this book about health and beauty, which suggested chai as an alternative that still has the caffeine (which is non-negotiable for me) but not all the nutrient-blocking nasty business of coffee. Also, that initial sip of coffee in the morning is revelatory, but there is a pretty sharp dropoff in pleasure after the first cup; not so with chai. I also enjoy the sort of ritualistic aspect of actually boiling a small pot of milk and tea together. It is tasty and spicy and caffeinated and full of antioxidants.

The only problem is that, when I am not at home, it is difficult to get a good cup of chai. Starbucks and most other coffee shops use a pre-mixed chai-like substance that is presweetened, which I find unacceptable (sugar is death! die, sugar, die!)

Oren's makes real chai, but they price it like latte -- a large is $4.10. There is an Indian takeout place in the West Village that has chai for $1.50 and is open all night, but I'm almost never in the West Village. Tonight in the East Village I stopped into this Indian place I always notice walking by because they have a breakfast menu (egg paratha!), which is unusual for an Indian restaurant, and I always wish I lived closer so I could go there during breakfast hours, and I asked if they made chai, and a nice man put a regular pot on a regular stove and boiled milk and spices, and strained it into a cup, just like a person would do at home, and all for $1. It's enough to make me want to move to 11th and 1st.