Burlington’s Church Street has long stood in my mind as the quintessence of two Vermont aesthetics.  There’s the rustic and natural – this flirtation with the singular Americanity of stone fences, Henry David Thoreau, and apple cobbler.  Then there’s the collegiate bohemian – a peculiar alliance of eccentric individualism and corporate spit and polish.  Nestled amidst these whirling images, Dobra Tea Shop nonetheless exists in an entirely different space.

Much like its tea selection, the Dobra’s décor is a vibrant collage of Indian, Asian, and Eastern European styles.  A dented copper lantern casts complex patterns of shadow and light across the west-facing wall; notices for upcoming Zen meditation sessions held with a single tack flutter eagerly from the bulletin board as patrons pass; the burgundy Turkish carpet is worn down to threads in the spot before the counter where waiters collect and deposit trays laden with a wild array of colorful pots and cups.  For me, such cultural incoherence actually helped weave these disparate elements into a singular experience.  Through beads, tapestries, and everything else, Dobra attempts to transport patrons from the mundane to the fantastical – divorced from the troubles of the world outside; the ideal spot for drinking tea.

On this particular occasion, my companion and I both elected to try a Dobra original: “Memories of Prague,” an Assam black tea infused with cacao.  Just a few minutes after ordering, our waiter arrived with a small round tray of dark wood, upon which perched two square stoneware teapots with gently fluted corners and spouts mimicking the elegant curve of a swan’s slender neck.  The cups matched this in both style and color, and their interiors were glazed a light cream color that accentuated the burnished copper color of the tea itself.  Nestled between these were a small pitcher of thick, fresh milk and small bowl of golden honey, both organic.  Off to the side, four small sables pressed into the shape of oak leaves had been arranged artfully on a napkin.  These were heavenly in both taste and texture: buttery, subtly flaking, and mildly sweet.  Dry, they snapped enticingly between the lips; dipped into the tea they became moist but not soggy, and instantly collapsed into a smooth paste upon the palate.  The “Memories of Prague” was as its name suggested – deep, languid, and rich, but without the stimulating energy implied by robustness or piquancy.  It lent itself perfectly to contemplation.  Chocolate dominated the nose over a base of subtle earthy notes.  Each sip revealed a simple, smooth black tea flavor not unlike good Darjeeling that slowly melted into bitter chocolate on the finish.  This bitterness isn’t the harsh sort, but rather a calming dryness and astringency slowly creeping across the palate.  A touch of honey diminished this quality somewhat, but concurrently revealed even smoother and more fragrant dimensions of enjoyment.  Unfortunately, although fresh and lovely alone, the milk only seemed to detract from this already rich and balanced tea.  But we didn’t become upset.  Dobra wouldn’t have allowed it.  We lingered for hours, lost in conversation and subtle contemplation of the drink between us, perfectly in keeping with its presentation and the atmosphere in which it is served.

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