Diary of a Geriatric Scarlet: November 29, 2050

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I relish a cup of tea. And when I say "cup of tea" I mean a cup and a saucer. And I mean tea leaves of quality, steeped for exactly the right time at the right temperature and poured from an exquisite teapot.

There should be no microwaving during any aspect of this operation. Microwaves are the nemesis of tea.

David's Tea is mostly a rainbow colored dessicated chemical sauce. It is not tea.

Harney and Sons on Broome Street has potential, but their retail experience is a brutal travesty for an impatient and demanding old woman like myself.  I enjoy prompt service with personal attention. This is in short supply on their corner of SoHo. Hardwood ambiance isn't the only factor, Son of Harney. But your Chai tea is indisputably very good even though it used to be called Indian Spice, a more descriptive and overall better name for the brew.

McNaulty's smells like coffee. I do not like to buy tea in a place that smells like coffee. But the old man with the white hair that presides over the establishment is still there. He was there fifty years ago and he's there today. I believe he is an immortal, probably some breed of dark fey.

Palais des Thes is my tea of choice these days. I collect my walnut cane, don a snappy outfit and walk there on the third thursday of every month. The des Thes bergamot is crisp and zippy. I try to walk in a similar fashion.