The Comfort of Tea (and Coffee).

From mid-January to the end of March, Carl is officially in the throes of March Madness frenzy. I feel like a football wife, except that I've been officially left for college basketball not pro-football. To add insult to injury, the Australian Open is being televised late at night so he's become a night owl, prowling the apartment while he watches Federer dispatch Blake and Ivanovic blow Serena off the court. I am quite bereft in my suddenly-single status but continue to find a measure of comfort in visiting new tea/coffee places and vicariously experiencing the thrill of discovery with those who accompany me. Since an early morning sojourn in the E. Village was necessitated this past Monday morning, I mapped out a stop at Abraco Coffee (E. 7th Street at 1st Avenue) for Carl and to Gramstand Tea (Ave A. between 13th/14th) for me. I was certain Carl would love Abraco and he did. Although I wish he'd notice me a bit more, his appreciation of the coffee will have to suffice. As we waited for his coffee, little one kept winding my grey wool muffler around my neck, pulling it with a yank and I think, attempting to strangle me. I'm certain she was reacting to a continuous low-grade anxiety that I'd been buzzing around with for most of the weekend. This is noteworthy because I've been told that I am quite calm in nature. Later on, when we returned home, I noticed one of my favorite earrings was missing. Apparently, little one hooked the beautiful citrine green earring into the scarf and tugged it out of my ear - an ominous sign. Whenever I lose something, it reflects change. That is certainly the case with the earring (but that's another story entirely). When I called Abraco to see if the earring might have been found, the lady barista obligingly looked on the floor for it and then said "you come in a lot so I'll hold it for you, if I find it." I was flattered to be confused with a regular so I just said ok. While we were at Abraco, Carl could not seem to order and kept schmoozing. I think he was a bit distracted with thoughts of impending basketball glory, this is why I'm buzzing around with low grade anxiety; the man has disappeared! I've been ignored a bit too long mister and I'm dying here. Nonetheless, in the spirit of love, I smoothly intervened and ordered Carl a drip coffee. The lady barista at Abraco was a total sweetheart, and completely unfazed by Carl. She asked why we were out on such a cold morning. She also agreed with little one's rejection of an offer of a black sesame seed cookie. The lady barista told little one that she too would have wanted, like little one firmly stated, a chocolate chip cookie. Abraco was empty and peaceful so early in the morning. Big Daughter and I visited Abraco Saturday afternoon (as she slowly dissolved into pudding mush due to caffeine withdrawal after our monthly pedicure at Jin Soon on E. 4th Street). The place was packed to the gills with customers. I'd noticed Abraco during one of my many neighborhood walks in prior weeks. It looked like a sweet little -and I mean little -space just above First Avenue. Big Daughter's coffee fit gave me an excuse to visit (since I cannot digest coffee but love the smell.) Because it was so crowded, we hesitated about entering but were firmly and gently urged in by a young, friendly blond surfer-dude type sitting on the bench outside. He said we'd regret it if we didn't try the coffee. The "crowd" was comprised of several coffee-drinkers savoring their coffee standing up and there was actually no wait. The Warhol-look-alike barista asked Big Daughter if she wanted a "drip coffee" and she assented. It took a few minutes to make and I was able to examine the cardamon cakes, olive bread and cookies. Big Daughter unwittingly offended Mr. Warhol barista when she requested Sweetnlow. When told "we don't carry that stuff here," she huffed out and made me buy some at the neighbor deli for 15 cents. A few minutes later, Big Daughter admitted the coffee was "amazing." Monday morning, after bringing Carl and little one to Abraco for his coffee, I left them briefly at Odessa for a quick breakfast, while I ran an errand. I then whisked them down to Gramstand Tea on Avenue A (between 13th/14th). Little one was having her bangs trimmed at Trini in Private, a new salon that my long-time hair stylist recently opened at 12th street and 6th Avenue, and we had a little extra time before the appt. Big Sister complains that little one "tosses" her hair around after having her hair washed and dried following the trimming of bangs. I reminded Big daughter of her many manicures at a tender young age but she claimed to have been more modest. The battle of vanity. Anyway, I had visited Gramstand a few Saturdays ago and was thrilled to discover "Proper chai" listed on their menu. They prepare their chai with either halfnhalf or soy and steep the tea leaves in the milk for a very creamy, smooth finish with a hint of spiciness in the taste. Gramstand is a simple place with two futon couches in the front part of the cafe. There's a row of constantly-occupied tables in front of the counter. On my previous visit, a young woman was using two tables and seemed put out that we asked to sit at the adjacent table, where she had spread her papers. There is also a downstairs seating area. The crowd at Gramstand is quite eclectic and very much a mix of young e. villagers and those who carry a whiff of real time spent in the neighborhood. Little one's eyes alighted on some legos and an etch-a-sketch toy. After asking me if she could play with them, she was instantly content. Carl was happy to read the paper and I of course, drank my chai. It was a time of pure bliss for all of us.