Cloudy and golden, with a lush flowering of bananas and cloves, it tasted like something a trader might have sipped a century ago, standing in a colonial market in Ceylon, with open baskets of tea and spices all around.
Pa-O and Taungyo villagers, recognisable by their headscarves, have walked down from the mountains in plimsolls, carrying baskets of tea leaves, pinewood kindling, lemons and avocados.
Kraft-Sussman's front room, where the couple takes families to discuss arrangements, is small, with a round mahogany table, sombre maroon chairs, a Keurig coffee machine, and baskets full of tea bags, cocoa packets, and sleeves of plastic-wrapped cookies and peanut-butter crackers.
Breakfast can be served in bed, which includes a basket of croissants brought with silver tea and coffee pots and china.
Her good friend Kat Terran, a shaman, opens up the basket of corn muffins and rose tea prepared for tonight as an offering to the spirits Mother Moon and Father Sky, the god and goddess, whatever you want to call it.
We've all clicked "add to basket" and then wandered off to make a cup of tea or answer the phone, never to return.
Next morning, the owner, Rosanne Boyett, arrived with a basket of various warm breads wrapped in tea towels; she bakes something different each day.
There is also a children's menu at $7. All brunches come with free brunch cocktail, coffee, tea and a basket of fresh baked muffins, rolls, croissants and mini bagels.
There's a desk with a computer, kettle and teas, and a basket of treats (for a price) such as Austrian wine and crisps.
