I took a new friend to 茶渊 some weeks ago.

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When I used to have my own apartment, I loved to invite people home for tea and long conversations — the kind of meandering pleasurable conversation — and sometimes companionable silences — that trail from late afternoon into the evening, the room darkening with languid shadows, where time was measured not by the clock but by how many times I refilled the kettle to boil water for a new brew.

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I do not have afternoons like this anymore, for want of new companions, and for want of my own home.

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The tea in Boston was always Tealuxe.