The secret to making the perfect cup of chai, a roadside vendor in India once told me, is to strain the tea with a used men's undershirt. The ribs on the fabric, he explained, create the perfect filter—especially if the undershirt has been broken in due to many wears. I nodded in agreement and complimented him on his chai, but the real reason I went to his stand was that he was a notorious gossip, and as a reporter covering the elections in India, drinking chai soaked in undergarments was a small price to pay for figuring out which mafia don was trying to buy which politician.
So when we talk about where to find the best chai, we are often not talking about what's served in the cup itself. Our perception of what constitutes the best chai is wrapped up in our ideas of its ingredients, where we believe it originates from, and how it should be consumed. I grew up in California drinking chai three times a day and have fond memories of my parents, both Indians born and raised in Tanzania, pouring tea into a saucer to explain that chai, like the US system of checks and balances, works best when spread and shared—a good lesson to heed, I should think, for our new president.
Portland, thankfully, offers a wide range of chai to sample, and I spent the past few weekends crisscrossing the city sampling over a dozen places. At the outset, let's retire the boring question of who makes the most authentic form of chai. Chai varies from country to country and it's absurd to think there can only be one type. In India alone, for example, chai in the North is often pinkish and salty, with pistachios sprinkled on top, whereas in western India, where I lived, chai is so sugary you can barely taste anything else.
One of the exciting things about Portland is how many different takes on chai you can find. A good place to start is Pip's Original Doughnuts and Chai (4759 NE Fremont). For $12.95 you can order a flight of chai served on a beautiful wooden tray with five varieties to sample. My partner liked the Smoky Robinson, a smoked chai with vanilla and clove, but I preferred the Emmylou, a white colored chai made with lavender, chrysanthemum, chamomile, and raw honey.
Tea Bar (1615 NE Killingsworth, 4330 SE Division, 1055 NW Northrup) is one of those swanky new places with bleached wood and employees who make judgmental faces when you ask for cow's milk instead of almond milk. A 12-ounce cup of chai costs $5 and is a mixture of Assam tea, fresh ginger, and spices. I found it far too milky, but in fairness I hear the real star at Tea Bar is their matcha latte.
Townshend's Tea Company (2223 NE Alberta, 3531 SE Division, 3917 N Mississippi, 7940 SE Stark) is a delightful spot with comfortable green chairs and couches. I tried the masala chai ($3.50), which had a good kick, while the Kashmiri chai ($3.50) was far too frothy.
The Sellwood location of Tea Chai Té (7983 SE 13th) is housed in an old train caboose, which is really all you need to know, because even though their chai ($4.25) is mediocre, you're there to sit by the fire, look out the window, and pretend you're traveling to a part of the US with far less rain.
Most chai drinkers in Portland swear by Either/Or Coffee (8235 SE 13th) and for good reason. Their famous Tanglewood chai ($3.75) is perfectly balanced and can be served either cold or hot. Definitely order it hot, as the spices are muted by the addition of ice cubes.
I love the idea of spiked chai, even if I've never had one that works. At The Sudra (2333 NE Glisan), their Kali-Ma ($8) includes Bacardi Gold, Bacardi 8, coconut syrup, coconut milk, cinnamon, and yes, chai. Their non-alcoholic version called Nanda Devi ($5) is far better, a sort of cold chai milkshake concoction with cinnamon on top.
Bollywood Theater's (3010 SE Division) chai is a bit too sugary for my taste, while Dwaraka Indian Cuisine's (3962 SE Hawthorne) version is sort of generic and plain. A better option is the 500-mile chai ($5) at Tao of Tea (3430 SE Belmont). It's flavored with jaggery, a sugar popular in South Asia that tastes like a cross between molasses and caramel. Another great choice is Bombay Chaat House (804 SW 12th), a downtown food cart where you can drink some of the city's best chai for only $1.50. Order it with a side of their incredible papdi chaat ($5) or pani puri chaat ($5) for the full Bombay roadside experience.
But the best chai is at Fly Awake (909 N Beech), an adorable little tea shop/tarot reading spot tucked away in an alley. The owner, Kevin von Behren, learned how to make chai from his longtime guru, Shri Anandi Ma, a woman who splits her time between India and California. After years of asking, his guru finally gifted him her chai recipe on the condition he make it the same way each time. The result is Guru's Chai ($4), a remarkably smooth cup of tea made using only two spices: cardamom and ginger.
For von Behren, the secret to making chai is bringing it to a boil, reducing the temperature, and frequently repeating this step. It's about being "intentional" with his chai making. "I basically love making chai," von Behren said. "I make it the same every time, and for me it's like making a soup—only it brings me a lot more joy."
Zahir Janmohamed is the co-host of the Racist Sandwich podcast. Follow him @raceandfood.
