Tea and other drugs

Bubble tea. How do I love thee? Let me count the ways...

Confession time. Now and again I get homesick. Utterly, irrationally homesick. In moments of weakness, I pine for the banalities and minor annoyances of home. For the damp squall of March afternoon, or a cancelled commuter train on a still-dark morning.

Above all else though, what I miss is a good cup of tea. Comfortingly warm, the bag steeped until the tea is gravy-like in colour, topped off with a liberal splosh of full-fat milk – a great brew solves a lot of the worlds' problems. And that's one of the reasons I love Taiwan. They love milky tea, too.

Bubble tea is a plastic pint of the black stuff, mixed with a load of milk and sweet, chewy tapioca bubbles. You can have it hot or iced, sweetened or not - even switch the bubbles for a caramel dessert in the bottom. I often plump for a straight-up pint of milky tea without sugar or bubbles – transporting me back to a wet weekend in London for ten minutes.

It's the most amazing culinary invention ever. Why it lacks the global ubiquity of the McBurger or the KingSandwich mystifies me, because it's heaven in a plastic cup. From the pan-Asian franchise stores with flashy logos, to the one-off stalls with queues backing down the street, I love them all. If only they did a delivery service...