Seventy teas. One little table by the window.
A small tea house on Caroline Street, where the cups don't match on purpose and the kettle is always near a whistle. Loose-leaf and bubble tea, something warm from the oven, and a quiet corner that's yours for as long as the pot is full.
Step inside and the noise of Caroline Street softens. Shelves of mismatched china, little gifts and trinkets to wander past, and the kind of warm, unhurried hush that's getting harder to find downtown.
It's family-run, and it feels it — the sort of corner where the staff remember your order and the afternoon stretches a little longer than you planned.