Bubble Tea Party

My name is Chris, and I’m an addict. (But so is my wife.) It all started the night of my commencement ceremony for graduate school. Beni, Aunt Liz, G, and a three-year-old Olivia stayed long enough to witness my walking across the stage to receive my diploma, but they cut out shortly thereafter to avoid traffic and preschooler meltdowns. Their oasis was a local tea shop – a place near campus that we’d noticed before but hadn’t yet frequented. Well, they had us at hello, with the hello being a sample of their fusion milk tea with tapioca pearls.

A search for the term “bubble tea” within this blog and my Twitter account reveals that I’ve written on the topic quite often, and so I readily admit that my obsession is just that – a domination of my thoughts by the persistent desire for the sweet beverage of curious name and textures. At the point, I’ve given into its seductive powers, and so seeking out the next bubble-tea spot while on vacation has become a reflexive as searching for a vegetarian restaurant or locating the nearest Marriott hotel chain at which we can cash in my loyalty-reward points.

Here are some of our fave fat-straw moments from our summer travels:

Chicago's Chinatown

With Sabine in a Maryland mall

Downtown Providence

The North Market of Columbus (OH)