The Shame of Starbucks

Everyone has that dark secret, the one you're ashamed to ever utter out loud.

Years and years and years ago, after going dancing in Boston with my sister and two friends, we spotted a hitchhiker on the way back. He was standing at a stoplight on Comm Ave., apparently left by his friends after a Red Sox game, holding a filthy towel scribbled with NORTH SHORE. I was driving The Boat, the family station wagon of such proportions as you can't even fathom in today's gas-conscious world (which also leads me to the dark secret of who put the solely-leopard-print-Speedo-clad sticker of Frank Zappa on the front bumper, much to my father's rage- but that's my sister's story to tell).

Four girls, none of us a day over 18, with a giant car: Of course, we rolled down the window and asked if he wanted a ride.

Of course, he said yes, even after we balked a bit as to our destination. "Sure, we're going to a shore." We were in fact headed home to the South Shore, which is the opposite direction from the North Shore. But beggars can't be chosers.

Nearing home a half-hour later, we were giving each other glances in the rearview mirror as the guy would just not shut up- about the great seats he and his buddies had at the game, how fantastic of a dancer he was, how his Ferrari was in the shop again. I couldn't stand listening for another minute, so I pulled into a state park where our friends were often fishing on summer nights. I parked the car, we all got out and with one look, the four of us bolted into the woods along the shoreline, knowing that the terrain was too dark and unfamiliar for him to follow us. We hid out for an hour, rolling on the ground trying to stifle our laughter, then snuck back to the car. Our passenger was nowhere in sight.

Yes, we abandoned him. (Keep in mind, this was in the blissful era before cell phones, and also before public transportation came to the suburbs- especially at 3 a.m. So he really was screwed.)

Why? He was drunk, he was not attractive, and above all, he was tediously boring. And I was 16.

That was my deepest, darkest secret until today, when I decided to try tea at Starbucks (no address; you know where one is).

I made my order sotto voce, half expecting all the coffee drinkers to jump up with shouts of "Unclean! Unclean!"- until I remembered they'd probably been sitting there for at least nine hours, so why would they get up now?


My choice was the green tea latte ($3.50). And while I hate giving away the ending, the cup found its way to the nearest trashcan as soon as I stepped outside.

It was syrupy sweet, with an artificially fruity and from-concentrate green-tea flavor. Is it just me, or is the Tazo brand of tea not necessary something a menu should tout? Its teas try to make up for poor quality by concocting bizarrely flavored blends branding themselves as desirable states of being, like calm, awake, refresh or (shudder) om.

The weirdest part of the tea, though, were the bitter edges that crept up behind all that sweet. And it was bitter like chemicals, not overbrewed tea. I had to freebase the ricolas I found at the bottom of my bag just to get the flavor out of my mouth.


Clearly, Starbucks is trying to make green tea palatable to an unfamiliar audience. But tea really doesn't- and shouldn't- taste like this. No wonder people think it's bitter the first time they taste it without sugar.

I realize going to a coffee chain store to taste tea is bit like critiquing the rolls at a steak house. But this is where the vast majority of this country gets its hot drinks, so what Starbucks is pushing as tea affects the mass perception of it. Maybe consumers are finally starting to develop taste buds, however, if the company's fourth-quarter performance is any indication; maybe, just maybe, this means tea will ultimately be appreciated by Americans as something beyond fast food.

No-Raisin Zone

I don't believe in raisins at any time of day, but especially not at breakfast, and especially not in a fruit compote, a dish I hold forever dear- it's one of the first meals I ever had in a restaurant (sadly, the long-gone Kiev on 2nd Ave.) when I moved to New York.


I hadn't thought about compote in a long time, though, until I spotted a version stewed with tea in the October 2008 Gourmet.

The original recipe called for serving it over couscous, but I'm hooked on Irish oatmeal right now, so that's what I paired it with. You could certainly use any grain (quinoa would be good- and quick), depending on how long you can wait to eat.

Oatmeal With Fruit-Tea Compote
Makes: 4 servings.

Compote:
1 1/4 cups water
3 tablespoons packed dark-brown sugar
1 1/2 cups mixed dried fruit (I used cherries, cranberries and chopped pears)
1 teaspoon loose black tea (Darjeeling), in a tea ball, or 1 tea bag
2 teaspoons freshly squeezed lemon juice
Oatmeal:
4 cups water
Pinch salt
1 cup Irish oats
1/2 teaspoon cinnamon
Toasted almonds and warm milk, for serving

1. For compote, simmer water, brown sugar and fruit in a small saucepan over medium heat, uncovered, stirring, until liquid just starts to become syrupy, about 8 minutes. Add tea and let steep off the heat for 10 minutes. Remove and discard tea, then stir in lemon juice.

2. For oatmeal, bring water to a boil and add a pinch of salt. Stir in oats and lower to a simmer. Cook 30-40 minutes, stirring occasionally, until thickened. Mix in cinnamon.

3. Spoon oatmeal into bowls and top with compote, then almonds and milk, if desired.

This is the perfect breakfast for a crisp, almost-winter morning; the black tea plays off the concentrated flavor of the dried fruit and readies you to face the day.

And if you brew a plain cup of the same type used in the compote to sip alongside it, you can really detect the notes in the tea- and take in that much more caffeine.

Hot for Helianthus

The weekend is a lovely time to bake. You have more energy, no particular place to be (if your social calendar is similarly cobwebbed) and plenty of time to clean up the naughty egg that rolled off the counter and into the black, fuzzy hole between it and the stove.


Oh, and increased concentration since you can savor three cups of tea before breakfast is even figured out. This Saturday I decided on these seemingly seasonal-appropriate muffins and another cup of my favorite classic hot chai.

Weekday mornings are nowhere near this good.

Sunflower-Seed Muffins
Makes: 1 dozen.

1 cup all-purpose flour
6 tablespoons whole-wheat flour
1/2 teaspoon baking soda
1/4 teaspoon salt
1/4 teaspoon freshly grated nutmeg
1 stick (8 tablespoons) unsalted butter, softened
1/2 cup granulated sugar
1/2 cup firmly packed light-brown sugar
2 eggs, at room temperature
1/4 cup buttermilk
1/2 cup toasted, unsalted sunflower seeds, plus 2-3 tablespoons, for garnish

1. Heat oven to 325°. Line a regular muffin tin with paper muffin cups. Sift together flours, baking soda, salt and nutmeg into a small bowl.

2. In a medium bowl, beat butter with an electric mixer until fluffy, about 1-2 minutes. Add both sugars and beat to combine well. Add eggs one at a time, beating after each. Add flour mixture and buttermilk alternately to the batter in three stages, beginning and ending with flour and beating well. Stir in the 1/2 cup sunflower seeds.

3. Spoon batter into each muffin cup, filling to just below the top. Sprinkle tops evenly with reserved sunflower seeds.

4. Bake for 25 minutes, or until muffins have risen and a toothpick inserted in the center of one comes out clean. Remove from pans and let cool on a rack.

Due to the cakelike process of making them, these muffins are tender and almost sweet enough to pass for cupcakes, with a pleasant nuttiness from the toasted seeds and caramel overtones from brown sugar.

Make no mistake, this is not health food. But you have the rest of the weekend to torture yourself with that or to take another muffin, sit back and have your friend entertain you with stories of driving cross-country with a guy who brought a severed sunflower head to snack on during the ride.

Breakfasts I Have Known

I've been enjoying baking more now that my apartment is starting to feel like a meat locker.


I realized, though, that I've never posted a recipe for scones, and that's just wrong because they are my absolute favorite breakfast tea accompaniment. These ones were a happy experiment, as I was looking to incorporate more seasonal flavors.

Pomegranate-Ginger Scones
Makes: 8 large or 16 small scones

2 cups flour
2 teaspoons baking powder
1/2 teaspoon salt
1/4 cup sugar, plus 1 tablespoon for garnish
2/3 cup pomegranate seeds
2 ounces chopped crystallized ginger
1 1/2 cups heavy cream, plus 1 tablespoon for brushing

1. Heat oven to 425°. Sift the flour, baking powder, salt and sugar into a medium-sized bowl. With a fork, mix in the pomegranate seeds and ginger.

2. Make a well in the center and pour in heavy cream, stirring gently until just mixed. Knead a few times in the bowl to form a ball, and place on a lightly floured surface. Pat into a disk about 1/2 inch thick, being careful to not overwork the dough.

3. Slice across the circle into triangles. Place on a baking sheet and brush just the tops carefully with the 1 tablespoon heavy cream. Sprinkle with the remaining 1 tablespoon sugar.

4. Bake for 16-18 minutes, or until golden brown. Transfer to a cooling rack and let sit for at least 15 minutes before eating.

The classic version (for me, that is, not for anyone British) is with 2/3 cup of dried cranberries and 4 ounces of coarsely chopped bittersweet chocolate instead of the pomegranate and ginger. It's divine.

I've also been toying around with danishes, notably a Nigella Lawson recipe for a quick, food-processor dough instead of the classic, butter-pounded, endless folding version.


This cheese danish turned out OK, but the dough really was a bit of a disappointment, misbehaving more than a spoiled, golden-haired Scandinavian boy. The filling was delicious (ricotta, sugar, melted butter, a bit of lemon zest), but I need to find a better recipe to enclose it.

I'm afraid it will have to be an authentic puff pastry. That's serious unchartered territory.

Back to Sweet

Life can never be as bad as you imagine, if you have a slice of this cake and a cup of tea at your side.


This decadent chocolate confection was adapted from a Jacques Torres recipe; I baked it a few weeks ago for a friend's birthday and was simply too busy inhaling it to post. It's not made like a typical flourless cake, but don't be intimidated by the method: The result is an unusually rich, tender texture.

I dusted it with matcha and a little cocoa powder instead of the usual confectioners' sugar- there's just something about that green tea-dark chocolate combination that is so delicious it seems like it shouldn't be legal.

Flourless Chocolate Cake
Makes: 12 servings.

6 1/2 ounces unsweetened chocolate, finely chopped
6 ounces bittersweet chocolate, finely chopped
3/4 cup plus 1 tablespoon granulated sugar and 1/3 cup plus 1 tablespoon
1 1/2 teaspoons water
3/4 cup (1 1/2 sticks) unsalted butter, softened
6 large eggs
Matcha, cocoa powder (for garnish)

1. Heat oven to 350°F. Grease a 9-inch cake pan, then line bottom of pan with a 9-inch parchment-paper circle. Grease paper.

2. Over extremely low heat, melt together chopped chocolates, stirring constantly. Pour into a medium-sized bowl and set aside.

3. In small saucepan, combine the 3/4 cup plus 1 tablespoon sugar and the water. Bring to boil over medium-high heat until all sugar is dissolved. Pour hot syrup into melted chocolate; whisk until well blended. Add butter; whisk until well mixed.

4. In bowl, beat eggs and remaining granulated sugar with a mixer until blended. Gently fold into chocolate mixture, and pour into prepared cake pan. Place baking pan large enough to hold cake pan in oven. Place cake pan in larger pan. Fill larger pan with enough water to come 1 inch up side of cake pan.

5. Bake in 350°F oven until surface is firm when pressed in middle, 35-40 minutes. Transfer pan to rack; let cool before dusting with matcha and cocoa powder, then slice and serve.

Is It Possible for Me to Smell Any Better?

A question you should ask yourself at least daily.


If the answer isn't to your liking, then there is a temporary solution: green tea mints ($1.99) from Trader Joe's.

These were a true impulse buy at the checkout yesterday; Sunday nights always require a little treat, at least to get my upcoming week started.

And while they may play into the "it's green tea, so it's good for me" scam, these mints are quite tasty. Matcha is the second ingredient (after sugar, so you know they can't be that bad), providing a surprisingly authentic vegetal punch.

There's even a pleasant, lingering pepperminty finish, especially helpful on those days you may have forgotten to brush your teeth because you spent 35 minutes changing outfits and are now running really, really late.

Just resist the urge to eat the whole tin at one time. I did that with some cinnamon Altoids a few years back (I was at a bowling alley, hungry and bored) and haven't had mints since because of the damage done to my tongue- for a solid week afterward, any dairy products I ate tasted like I was licking knives.

Three of these in a row seems perfectly safe, however. Do your neighbors a favor and get some.

The Joy of Cooking

I've had some requests for more savory tea-based recipes, and as you may know, I relish doing as I'm told.


I don't know why I automatically think sweet when cooking with tea. Am I a secret sugar addict? Perhaps.

Or maybe I just see the effect dessert can have on people. Salty, spicy and fatty foods certainly satisfy cravings, but it's the warm slice of gingerbread, the runny piece of sour cherry pie topped with creme fraiche, the hot fudge sinking into a scoop of vanilla ice cream that make the eater's eyes close in pleasure and quiet moans escape in that first exhale. Nothing is more pleasing to a cook than witnessing that transcendence.

Still, you do need salt to offset all that sugar. So here's a recipe I've been sitting on for years, for no reason other than unmitigated laziness. There's three ingredients, not counting water, so I truly have no excuse. And it's quite tasty- with a pleasantly exotic jasmine fragrance- so it's now going into the regular rice rotation (I'm working up to 20 servings a week).

Jasmine Tea Rice
Makes: 4 servings.

1 tablespoon loose jasmine tea
1/2 teaspoon salt
1 1/2 cups jasmine rice

1. Bring 2 1/4 cups water to a boil in a medium saucepan. Remove from heat and add tea; cover and steep for 5 minutes. Strain, discarding tea leaves; return brewed tea to the saucepan and stir in salt.

2. Bring tea back to a boil over medium-high heat. Add rice, cover, and reduce heat to low. Cook 15 minutes, until tea is absorbed. Let sit for 5 minutes, then fluff with a fork and serve.

I had it underneath a simple but rich Thai curry bursting with all my favorite vegetables (broccoli, carrots, mushrooms and tomatoes). The coconut milk played so well off the jasmine essence, it almost made me forget about dessert. Almost.