The Crosby Show

We may still be trapped in the sticky, endless days of July, but that doesn't mean you can spend every single one on the beach.


Well, you can try. But the city inevitably calls me back. As much as I do love a thermos of mint iced tea (and my toes) wedged in the sand, sometimes it's nice to settle into a plush chair as pots of tea and a tower of sandwiches and cakes are brought out to you, silverware cool to the touch from the air conditioning.

A glass of champagne alongside doesn't hurt, either.


For an afternoon tea a bit less traditional, the new Crosby Street Hotel (79 Crosby St.) seemed a good choice. And overall, it was: the tea list is fairly extensive, and while the food is not very adventurous, it is well-prepared. I particularly appreciated the whole-wheat bread in the finger sandwiches; it's unusual to see anything but soft white bread at tea services, and it played nicely with the cool filling of creme fraiche and cucumber.


The scones were excellent: just sweet and firm enough to stand up to multiple slatherings of clotted cream and cherry jam. I can't recall ever eating them while listening to Chaz Jankel, either, which added another layer of delight.


But there were a few things off. While the service was very professional and attentive- when the waiter was around- long, long stretches passed without any sign of him. It's never pleasant to be hovered over, but an occasional check-in is appreciated. Less forgivable was the preparation of the tea. I truly cannot understand why a high-end establishment (and a British-owned one at that) would bring the tea to the table with the leaves still in the pot. I could time it so the first cup of Darjeeling was perfect; but the leaves had no place to go after that, so the next few cups were sadly overbrewed.

It's not difficult to brew tea, especially in a professional kitchen. There's got to be a timer and strainer in there somewhere. And this problem isn't limited to Crosby Street- unfortunately, I've ended up with the same bitter brew at almost every other hotel tea service.

Sigh. Will they ever learn?

The Crosby Street Hotel serves afternoon tea, $34; or champagne tea, $46, all day.

Such a Beach

When you think New York City, you don't think of crashing waves, white-sand beaches littered with shimmering blue shells, or cool, salt-spray breezes tangling your hair.


And you certainly don't think of fish tacos and iced matcha.

Well, maybe it's time to.


Rockaway Beach is one of those gems of the city, so un-urban it's hard to believe a subway brought you there. And while I'm a firm believer in the beauty New York exudes every day, this spot is a particularly breathtaking example. (And this is coming from someone who grew up on the Atlantic Ocean.)

The beach may get a little crowded on the weekends, but if you can manage to trek out here during a sultry weekday afternoon, you will not be disappointed. Even if you don't go for a swim- which is tantamount to crime in this heat- it's worth the journey for the most authentic fish taco ($3) I've ever had on the East Coast, courtesy of Rockaway Taco (95-19 Rockaway Beach Boulevard, Queens): crispy, hot fried fish; crunchy, sweet and spicy bites of shredded cabbage and radish; a bright squeeze of lime and inevitably, all over your hands and face as you devour it.



Chase it with an icy, vibrant green cold matcha ($4; supplied by Matcha Source) from Veggie Island right next door, and you may never want to leave. This adorable coffee shop/organic vegetable market also has an extensive selection of house-made herbal iced teas ($2.50), such as black mint, nettle and sorrel.


Unfortunately, I'd put away three tacos at this point, so I had to vow to try them on my next visit- I didn't want to have to wait another 45 minutes before jumping into the water.


Although, looking back at the pictures, this meal was quite possibly worth a life-threatening cramp while swimming. There are certainly worse ways to go.

By Any Other Name

I used to find roses incredibly corny; boring, trite and unimaginative in a bouquet.


But over the past few years, those wild, uninhibited varieties that envelop a decaying fence or other quiet green corner have slowly crept into my heart and taken root. There those sweet little roses stay, even if I rarely see or smell them during their brief summer reign.


So perhaps it's a severe case of garden envy: I've been consumed with thoughts about how roses would taste in a rhubarb pie, or scattered over pastry cream and brioche. I've often enjoyed the petals mixed with black tea, so why not in an accompanying sweet?


Without any blooms to gather, these sesame-rose cookies are a good place to start. Imagine a classic peanut-butter cookie- interpreted in rich, evocative Middle Eastern flavors and crowned with the haunting essence of rose-petal jam- and you'll get the idea.

Better yet, make them yourself. The tahini and jam are available from Sahadi's, one of my absolute favorite food stores. And I'm happy to share that the cookies won the store's (and my, actually) first recipe contest. They're tasting all the sweeter now with my iced tea.

Sesame-Rose Cookies
Makes: about 2 dozen cookies.

3/4 cup all-purpose flour
1/4 teaspoon baking soda
2/3 cup tahini
4 tablespoons (1/2 stick) unsalted butter, melted
1/2 cup sugar
1 egg
1/2 teaspoon salt
2 to 3 tablespoons sesame seeds
1/4 cup rose-petal jam

In small bowl, stir together flour and baking soda. Set aside. In medium bowl, mix tahini, butter, sugar, egg and salt together until well blended. Stir in flour. Cover dough, and refrigerate for 4 hours, or overnight.

Heat oven to 350°. Let dough sit at room temperature for about 10 minutes, then roll into balls (about 2 teaspoons each). Roll balls in sesame seeds, and place onto ungreased cookie sheets. Using the end of a wooden spoon, gently indent each cookie, taking care to press only about halfway through the dough.

Bake cookies at 350° for 13-15 minutes. Let cool on sheet 2 minutes, then gently re-form the holes the end of the with wooden spoon before removing to rack to cool completely.

Once cool, fill each cookie with 1/2 teaspoon jam. Serve, or refrigerate for up to 3 days.

A Peek Inside the Matcha Box

I haven't been on a tea hiatus, as much as the paucity of posts here may suggest. I've been drinking it every day as always, but I suspect some sort of creativity impairment is going on. Brain sprain, lack of inspiration, toxic environments- any one of them can strangle even the smallest seeds of ideas, and in combination, they're rather formidable distraction.

But when you hear word that your favorite matcha supplier has set up shop a quick subway ride away, somehow those crushing forces start to lose their power.


Stepping inside the quiet little shrine of Matcha Box (33 Crosby St.), I was instantly inspired. The expertly-prepared bowl of thick matcha ($5)- which I've never had before- followed by an iced matcha ($3.50) may have contributed a bit, of course. The matcha madeleine ($2.50) didn't hurt, either. And when I got to meet Matcha Source's founder, Alissa White, in person, the elements of anticreativity finally crumbled.


Alissa kindly agreed to an interview, so a few days later, I went back to find out more about the store. Matcha Source is based in L.A., so Matcha Box is pop-up shop- and one that was only about six weeks in the making, she explained to me. Earlier in the year, that whole volcanic-ash mess left her stranded with an unplanned week in New York. She started thinking about a cafe here- which would introduce more people to matcha as well as highlight this special tea's accessibility- made one call, happened upon a space, and with the help of her brother Benji, started setting up shop for the month of June.


"It was completely unplanned, so the concept of a pop-up shop- temporary, spontaneous- appealed to me," Alissa said. And it struck me, as we sat just outside and absorbed the somehow intimate, still-neighborhoody feel of this stretch of Soho (only a block away from Broadway's throngs of tourists and shoppers), what could be more fitting? One of the most central concepts of the Japanese tea ceremony- which is basically a paean to matcha- is ichigo ichie, or a celebration of the unique and ephemeral nature of every encounter. While I may wish Matcha Box would stay forever, there's something special about its fleeting presence, and a welcome beauty (or wabi sabi) in its impromptu, imperfect setup.

That's what I kept telling myself, at least, while Alissa set up a tasting flight of matcha for me.

She uses Matcha Source's gotcha ($28 for 80g) in the iced matcha and matcha lattes ($4). It's an ingredient-grade matcha, but it shines in these simple, cold preparations. I assumed most customers would order these, and Alissa and Benji did tell me many did- but others do come to sit with a bowl of the traditional-style tea.

Alissa then prepared a bowl of both morning ($33 for 30g; $3 for a serving) and kama ($45 for 30g) matcha, so I could taste them side by side. I've had Matcha Source's morning matcha before- it's what I often make at home- but under her experienced touch, the tea was transformed into a vibrant green, light and refreshing brew that sang of natural sweetness.



And the kama, somehow, was even better: made with more matcha, the tea had a thick, velvety feel in my mouth with a complex but balanced taste of sweet, bitter and intense greenness that lingered long after I put down the bowl.



This is matcha at its finest- outside of Japan, at any rate. If you've never experienced it, you must make a journey to the Matcha Box.


It's only around for a few more precious days- until June 30- but keep in mind there will be a "fire sale," as Alissa told me, during the last week. So while the drink may disappear all too quickly, you can stock up on matcha and everything you need to prepare it (like the matcha set with tea, $69) once Matcha Box is gone.


And if you can't get to New York by the end of June, you can still order matcha online and learn to make it yourself.

However you end up drinking it, may you find matcha as inspiring as I do.

Matcha Box is open 4pm- 7pm Thursday and Friday, and 11am- 7pm Saturday-Tuesday; it is closed on Wednesdays.

Iced Tea for the Truly Lazy

It's strange how much effort you can direct toward not doing something. Working, washing dishes, doing taxes, folding laundry, writing: all can be avoided if you really try.

And at the end of the process, after all that effort, you're left with...nothing.

Maybe I'm not being fair to my fellow man, however. It could be that I, not all humankind, am the expert procrastinator. I can only guess about other people; I know for a fact, however, that I'm really talented at not getting things done.


If this strikes a chord, though, then I have a drink for you. Even if it's above 90° for an entire weekend in May (or just feels like it), you will have the energy to make this iced tea. Yes, you can also work on not making it, but then you won't have a crisp, cool glass to toss back as you think about all the things you won't get done today.

(I do realize I'm posting this on the last evening of a long weekend- which means it's less likely you actually will have the time to devote to crafting delicious drinks by the time you read this- but I was rather busy doing nothing but drinking iced tea all day.)

Lazy Iced Tea

Pour 4 cups water into a large glass pitcher or jar. Tie 6 tea bags together with kitchen twine, and place into pitcher. Cover and refrigerate overnight, or at least 8 hours. Remove tea bags, pressing to extract liquid, and stir in half a lemon, thinly sliced. Mix 4-6 tablespoons honey with 1/4 cup boiling water, and stir into tea.

Refrigerating the tea overnight means you don't even need to bother with ice, which often ends up diluting the brew. It's already ice-cold and perfectly steeped, never bitter. And before you gasp at the bags, relax. I'd rather people use them and at least make homemade iced tea as opposed to buying an overpriced, oversweetened bottle of factory-made swill.


For this batch, I used the British standby PG Tips, which the company was gracious enough to send to me for sampling. Even though I'll still never stray from loose tea, I was surprised how clean and bold a flavor the bags produced. And drinking something originally known as Pre-Gest-Tee (for its alleged digestion-aiding properties) is fun- even shiftless chimps agree.

Laziness transcending species: definitely something for future study. I'll get to it.

The Good, the Bad and the Tea Leaves

Everything moves in cycles, my mother never tired of telling me when I was growing up. It used to drive me crazy, but now, I often find myself agreeing with her.

It even applies to tea. Of course, there's the obvious analogy of the Camellia sinensis leaf cycle of bud, growth, harvest, processing. Beyond that, though, tea has been up and down for me lately.


The lecture I was lucky to attend a few weeks ago at the American Museum of Natural History was one of the ups. I haven't been to many tea-centric events, and it was a treat to spend an evening immersed in listening and tasting. The talk was divided into the history of the Silk Road- unfortunately, not too much on the specifics of the tea that was transported over it for thousands of years- and a more general lesson from Sebastian Beckwith of In Pursuit of Tea on the different types of tea, its cultivation and culture.


Much of the ancient Asian history was new to me (such as the role tea played for 13th and 14th Buddhist monks, not just as a stimulant for meditation, but also as an aid to Zen's practice of inner self-examination) but most of the teaspeak was not; however, judging from the sold-out audience’s fervent questioning at the end of the lecture, tea was indeed a hot topic for them.


The attendees' average age may have skewed toward the grandparently, but I was pleased- and surprised- to feel such enthusiasm from them. For a few hours, none of us tea freaks were out of place.

But the cup never stays half-full for long.

Last week, I stopped in my favorite tea store, Ito En, to replenish my precious uji gyokuro and okimidori sencha. I've tried teas from many other places, but nothing has ever quite measured up to its Japanese greens; when the clerk would open the carefully sealed bags, gently shake the leaves and invite me to take a deep sniff, I'd close my eyes and the essence of spring and green would absolutely fill my head.

I discovered Ito En in a Saveur article- on uji teas, I believe from early 2001- that I was reading while on a heaving, crowded subway on my way to a miserable new job. I had only been in New York for a few months and was still trying to adjust to the gaping humanity that exposed itself at every step; somehow, the author's description of the veiled leaves' delicate treatment transported me that morning, to a silent, tranquil place. I twisted for more room so I could I flip to the sources page in the back of the magazine, and found a Madison Avenue address that was just north of where I worked.

On my lunch break that day, I walked into Ito En, strode to the ancient wooden counter in the back, and asked for an ounce of uji gyokuro. The clerk gave me thorough instructions on proper brewing, and the next morning, before I steeled myself for another day, I made a cup.

And it was the best tea I'd ever tasted.


In the years since, I've gone back again and again, dragging pretty much everyone I know at least once. So when the clerk told me the store was closing down at the end of that week- two days ago- I felt stunned.

It will still be possible to order online, but the loss of my ritual, and sanctuary, cuts deeply.


Goodbye, Ito En. I'll miss you.

A Sip of History: The Silk Road and Tea

It's almost effortless to buy tea today. It's sold practically everywhere, from supermarkets to drugstores, or- don't even get up from the computer- simple to purchase online.

But it wasn't always this easy.


Picture the Silk Road, an extensive trading route from China through central Asia to the Middle East, which was established roughly around the 1st century B.C. Caravans of horses and camels laden with goods stretched over 4,000 miles; bazaars and trading centers studded the path. Precious items and ideas flowed for millennia along the well-worn trails, but one of the most significant exchanges was that of tea.

It was another world from the flat, screen-dominated one most of us occupy, but you can get a taste of it now at the Traveling the Silk Road exhibit at American Museum of Natural History. Even better, explore tea's cultural and historic impact over cups of the same varieties that traversed this ancient route with Morris Rossabi, professor of history of City University of New York, and Sebastian Beckwith, owner of In Pursuit of Tea, at the "Silk Road and Tea" lecture and tasting, this Wednesday, March 24, at 6:30 p.m. (camels optional).

I hope to see you there. And for those of you not up to a 1,000-mile journey, I'll be posting a review and images after the event.

Tickets for Silk Road and Tea are $20 and available online; the Traveling the Silk Road exhibit runs through August 15.