Cuppa joe, cuppa tea, cuppa cappuccino? What do you drink on the road?
Posted September 16th, 2009 by Antonia MalchikA couple years ago I wrote a piece about the weird habit many of us have — me included — to dress differently when we’re traveling. When I’m in Europe, for example, I tend to think in terms of outfits with scarves and shoes that need polishing. Back in Montana, it’s centered around Tevas and quick-drying hiking clothes. (Please, do not ask me what I wear at home in between typing this, scrubbing the floor, canning peaches, and changing diapers.)
A cool story from NPR this morning about a genteel tea auction in Kenya sent me into a little nostalgia spin back to the time when I first started drinking tea, and why, and how my drinking habits vary depending on where I’m traveling to. (Before anyone starts sniggering, I’m thinking non-alcoholic drinks — I generally stick with wine or beer for booze, depending on where I am and what they specialize in, although I will try any country’s specialty [Uzo, Jenever, for example] even if just once.)
I grew up a coffee drinker. I picked up the habit from my mother, who still needs a strong cup or two to go to sleep, and refined it by going to high school in a town with its own fantastic coffee roaster. The habit only strengthened when my parents opened a coffee roasting business in Moscow (Montana Coffee, which my father is still president of) and I got a job in college working at Dunn Bros. Coffee in St. Paul, Minnesota, still some of the best roasted beans I’ve ever had. My family is now stuck in rut of coffee snobbery.
Tea came out of the blue, but it was a natural shift. It was, after all, for a guy, the one I’m now married to. In our St. Andrews dorm he courted me with … Nescafe. Boxed milk, no sugar. Now, I was happy to down Nescafe in Turkey because it’s what they gave us. But in Scotland? Unsweetened? For someone with a history of coffee snobbery? Brr. So I began asking about tea. I’d never liked tea growing up, but I realized that was due to the American penchant for fruity teas — raspberry, lemon — that tasted awful.
He taught me about black tea, Assam to be specific, how to brew it in a pot, how long to steep, when to wind it, to pour milk in the cups first, how he liked is, how I liked mine. And lo and behold, I fell in love with the moldy leaves. No sugar needed, just a splash of milk. For over 10 years now, it’s been what I drink at home, and I’m so fussy about it that I find it hard to consume elsewhere. We buy it in 2-pound bags from Special Teas, and are saddened when the monsoon season means we can’t get our favorite estate tea.
The first time she ever came to America, her first time on a transatlantic flight, my mother-in-law got off the plane shaky and woozy, and gratefully sat down in a cafe during our layover. She ordered — what else? — a cup of tea and nearly cried when someone set a glass full of ice and cold brown liquid in front of her. “Is that American tea?” she asked, ever so polite. The hot version wasn’t a whole lot better, and she finally went for coffee.
I do drink tea in England. How could you not? But when traveling, except where tea is excellent, my tastes shift back to coffee, and what I order switches constantly depending on where I am.
When visiting Montana I like to order the small hazelnut lattes I first grew to love at 16. In Russia, it’s strongly brewed Bodum press pots mixed with cream and sugar. I first associated Russia with drinking tea, the over-steeped, over-stewed leaves that sat for days in a tiny pot, being diluted ever more with hot water until every inch of tannin had been sucked out. But my father now runs a coffee roasting business there and I switched to coffee because I know it’s excellent.
Working at Dunn Bros. in college, I learned to make mocha steamers, a mix of cold-pressed coffee, chocolate, and drops of syrup that I fell in love with (and formed a daily, sometimes hourly, habit that forced me to quit the job in order to relieve the caffeine addiction). When visiting my older sister in Santa Cruz, CA, I always go for an iced chai mocha, which, like the mocha steamer above, I’ve never found anywhere else.
In Vienna it’s the classic melange served with sparkling water, in Australia it’s a cappuccino, in Britain it’s simply white coffee with raw sugar. In Portugal I tried everything described in my guidebook, partly as a way to practice pronunciation. I like to drink whatever the country makes best, just like with wine and beer.
I’m curious what others drink while away from home. Do you search for your favorite beverage? Are you desperate for your latte first thing in the morning? Or do you go for something different, spying out the tables around you to see what satisfies the local caffeine addiction?
Related posts:
- “Daddy Needs a Drink,” Robert Wilder
- An Earth Day Cocktail You Won’t Want to Drink
- Romancing on the Road
- “Shadow of the Silk Road,” Colin Thubron
September 16th, 2009 at 1:41 pm
True story, I am from Costa Rica and most of the foreigners I see, even in the city, dresses clothing which is comfortable like sandals and cargo shorts
September 16th, 2009 at 2:10 pm
If you like your loose leaf tea on the go, you should try out our collapsible infuser called the Tuffy Steeper! Find it here! http://www.theteaspot.com/tuffy-steeper-steepware.html?catid=251
Enjoy
September 16th, 2009 at 2:12 pm
It’s true — in Europe people can always spot Americans because they tend to wear white trainers and all the same pants and shirts!
I keep hearing great things about Costa Rica … it’s the place to be.
September 17th, 2009 at 7:36 am
Andrea, that looks awesome! I won’t use it on long trips ONLY because I’d have to pack tea, too, and with a baby in tow I’ve got to minimize luggage (besides, then I might not try all those exotic coffee drinks). But it looks like a great idea for road trips.
September 18th, 2009 at 6:44 am
My drinking definitely shifts depending on the locale. Oddly enough, I got hooked on instant coffee in Europe. In the hostels it was often left in the cubbards from past guests and hence, free. Now I use it for my mid-afternoon drink at work because it’s quick, easy and far cheaper. My new motto is “Every latte skipped here is one I will enjoy in Europe.”
September 18th, 2009 at 9:13 am
This is an interesting question — I do enjoy trying out all local beverages, alcoholic and otherwise, but for my optimum happiness, I must start the day, wherever I am, with a cup of strong coffee. (I also carry Splenda with me, which a frequent travel companion insists makes me a bonafide old lady!)
I did a NOLS course in Wyoming a few years back (www.NOLS.edu) and was relieved to be backpacking with group of coffee addicts, who actually packed a French press into the Winds. I also had cowboy coffee on that trip, which is just coffee grounds shook up in a jar. It was wonderful.
September 18th, 2009 at 7:05 pm
That is an awesome motto Mega. I’ll have to remember that. Like, “Every glass of awful cheap wine I skip here means a glass of really fantastic wine in Europe.”
Alison, I love cowboy coffee. Oddly, my aunt in Russia makes in on the stove — or a version of it. And my mom is totally with you on needing that cup of strong coffee in the morning. We were once traveling on a Scottish island together once and I accidentally tossed her ground coffee. When she looked for it the next morning she actually cried. There was one cafe on the whole island and they didn’t open until noon. We begged, though, and they were kind!
September 22nd, 2009 at 10:09 am
Cute idea for a post.
I was a green tea-drinker before my RTW trip, with only the occasional cappuccino after a nice dinner out or for social reasons. I began to enjoy black tea with frequent trips to Chengdu’s tea shops and parks, only to discover milk tea in Nepal. Then I bounced back to my favorite – green tea in Darjeeling. Thailand saw me sucking down ice coffees and coconut shakes like there was no tomorrow, and living in Medellin, Colombia for 6 months necessitated that I pick up a coffee habit to enjoy the local beans.
Now that I’m back home, my drinking habits are a complete mess! I don’t drink either tea or coffee as much as I did before my trip or while abroad.
September 22nd, 2009 at 10:24 am
At home I’m a serious Diet Coke fanatic (yeah it’s not great for you i know, whatever). When I’m abroad it’s usually too scarce or ridiculously expensive so i switch to tea. When I lived in England I would down about a dozen cups a day! Thankfully now I don’t need nearly so much caffeine to get around.
And I love drinking local beers. Love it!
September 22nd, 2009 at 2:16 pm
Dave, nobody’s called me cute in years — much less my ideas
Your round-the-world caffeine experience has made me thirsty to taste something new. Isn’t it odd how addicted we can get to a beverage in one place, only to find it tastes strange in another? I’m a total tea addict at home, with coffee supplementing when necessary.
Stephanie, you reminded me of one of my first times abroad alone, in a Belgian cafe. There were some American tourists on the other side of the room, and the man said to the waiter, when he got the check, “A Coke costs how much?” Not liking the answer (which pointed out the fact that the price had been on the menu): “Do you know how much a Coca-Cola would cost in the U.S. of A?” I wanted to sink under the table, and ordered wine.
Local beers rule, don’t they?
September 23rd, 2009 at 10:20 pm
I drink whatever is local. Maybe it is a mind over matter but I always feel better drinking drinks made from local & organic ingredients. In Turkey I drink çay çay çay or ayran, in Florida I drink local-organic orange juice, in Colombia I drink roasted straight from the farm café, in Argentina I drink yerba maté, and so on. I’m not going to lie, I now live in Colombia and although the fruits here are AMAZING I from time to time miss a good glass of Florida orange juice.
September 25th, 2009 at 1:23 pm
At least you’re honest, Kevin
When I’m away, I admit to missing tea. A lot. I seem to have to drink a lot more coffee to make up for the missed morning tea. It’s probably psychological.
Do you suppose Uzo is organic? It’s awful, but local … kind of like Unicum Zwack in Hungary, which is revolting.