Iced Tea...please?

Tonight, my wife and I sat down to a refreshing summer meal. Several ears of corn and breasts of chicken were cooked to near perfection on the grill. These were brought to the table, carved, and placed upon a fresh bed of lettuce along with some fresh bacon bits, cheese, and quartered roma tomatoes. It was a delightful feast and complemented the temperature outside still hovering near 100 degrees. The only item preventing us from achieving enlightenment was a tall, water-beaded glass of iced tea. This brings to mind an incident from a few weeks ago.

Sparse are the restaurants available for lunch near my office, but over the years I've developed a rotation of sorts among them. Schlotzky's is on that list, and its number came up one afternoon when temperatures were already flirting with the level of these waning spring days. As I realized where my feet were carrying me, a silent joy coursed through me as I thought about that most refreshing of beverages that Schlotzky's does so well, especially compared to those whose offerings are less than stellar. However, as I gathered my receipt, chips and cup from the cashier and turned toward the drink station, an emptiness swelled in the pit of my stomach. Where the stainless steel towers once awaited the opportunity to dispense liquid pleasure, there stood a sad, mechanical manifestation of a society gone to seed in a field of convenience. Iced tea from concentrate...four flavors! I could hardly contain my indignance, but rather than immediately voice my displeasure, I opted to sample the fluidic usurper.

I stared at the cup on the table in front of me for several minutes before I realized that my sandwich had appeared before me by the helpful hands of staff relieved of the duty to actually brew tea. My worst fears were, of course, realized. Speech escaped me; words could not adequately convey my disappointment.

For you see, the quality of iced tea in restaurants of even the finest quality has been on a march of decline for the past several years. Where one would occasionally receive a glass where the liquid contained within was barely colored, to receive now a beverage brewed with virginal leaves warrants a celebration. Indeed, the waiter is assured a happier customer willing to part with an extra percentage point or two at the meal's conclusion. Perhaps I should indulge in my impulse to include a note thanking them for their attention to detail upon our departure.

I realize that the public-facing portion of our food industry is especially sensitive to the rising cost of labor and materials and struggles to find a balance that will leave the ledger in the black and the customer satisfied that his money was well spent. However, I cannot fathom the pennies saved by running gallon after gallon of boiling water over the same tea bag results in much cost saving. The end result is that I've wasted $2.50 on a glass of off-clear liquid that is only a few molecules away from the tap water I could be drinking for free. In fact, starting last year, I determined that I would no longer suffer this injustice and insult. I will exchange for another beverage that is more resistant to the predilection to skimp, and offer a note of critique for what I'm sending back.

Unfortunately, I'm growing increasingly lonely in my obsession. The location escapes me, but while at lunch a few days ago, I overheard the conversation of two young women seated behind me. "Oh, I know, most places just make their tea too strong," one was saying to her companion. "Agreed. That's so gross," responded the companion. A few feet away, I shed a few silent, internal tears.

Yet, when it goes right, there's no substitute. After returning from a trip to celebrate our first anniversary, my wife and I visited a favorite hang-out in North Austin - Chuy's. The waitress offered the usual drink specials, then wrote down our order for iced tea. When the beverages arrived, I took a sip and was simply transported. Deeply flavorful and refreshing, this lovingly crafted tea capped the end to a wonderful weekend.

Throughout history, there have been groups tasked with a sacred responsibility to preserve knowledge. Despite our current recession of personal responsibility and spotty work ethics, there are still those toiling away, awaiting the dawn of a new Enlightenment. Previously, it was of Reason, then Industry, and hopefully appearing just over the horizon - delicious tea.