I'm a wino.

I'm a wino, and I'm not ashamed to admit it. I don't consider my evening meal complete unless I have something red, white, or pink thumped in my glass. For me, leaving off the wine is like leaving off the salt.

Having firmly established myself to you as a overly particular diner who goes around most nights with a purple mouth, I never thought I would find a non-alcoholic drink that would ever satisfy me. NON-ALCOHOLIC! Can you imagine?

Oh, I've had my flings with various juices, soft ciders, and spritzes, but none of them really seemed to go with the food. Enter Golden Star Tea. Yes, tea. Now, pairing food with tea is certainly not an original thought these days, but did I mention the bubbles? For Golden Star White Jasmine Tea is sparkling tea.

Let me tell you, I have never met such a beverage. Sparkling ciders -- both grape and apple -- have never been dry enough for me. They're tasty and juicy but that's what they really are: juice. The sweetness that overwhelms these teetotalling options is not found in the limpid depths of a perfectly chilled flute of Golden Star.

The uniquely refined sour flavor in Golden Star comes from the fermentation process, and though you might think the heady florals of jasmine might turn your tipple into Grandmother's eau de cologne, but it really doesn't. It's simply a remarkably balanced glass. It's simply a remarkable drink.

Golden Star CEO and Creative Director Edward Carden explained to me that the company was formed with the idea of finally charting the fairly unexplored territory in the beverage universe: non-alcoholic luxury.

Pair Golden Star with whatever you'd pair with champagne. Specifically, try it out on appetizers, leafy green salads, and seafood. Carden particularly recommends paring the tea with raw fish or any sort of seafood that carries with it that briny breath of the sea. You can even drink this glass of tea with desserts. Not as cloyingly sweet as a Sauternes or a port, Golden Star is a remarkably refreshing accompaniment to fruit desserts and cheeses.

I'm champing at the bit to get my hot little hands on these bottles but as yet, Golden Star is only available at EOS wine bar in Cole Valley. Come September -- when we're still bound to be good and hot in the Bay Area -- Golden Star will make its way into stores. The 750 mL will sell for $12.95 and close on its heels, the 375 mL can be got for $6.95. Seeing that Golden Star took home two awards from the World Tea Championship I'm not clearly not alone in my adoration.

When you do frost your fridge with a few of these gilded bottles, serve in champagne flutes at 40° for optimum ecstasy.

Go ahead, get bottle-greedy, for there will be no need for aspirin in the morning.

Sometimes it seems if you're not up on the latest, newest restaurant, or are lagging behind while chasing San Francisco's food wordsmiths about what's happening right now, you might miss what's incredible. In the Bay Area you could miss The Dish everyone's talking about if you're not in 30 places on one night. So many restaurants here change their menus daily, and seasonally-- more than any city/ region I've ever cooked in, that it can take years to taste it all, plus there's always another eatery opening-- it makes our heads spin trying to keep them all straight.

Whew! All the head-spinning can blur what's right in front of us: a neighborhood joint, a down-to-earth 50 seat house, or the corner place you pass by every day on your way to work. In these Off-Broadway or Off-Off Broadway stages there are great plates going out every day, every night, year after year. The food is good or great, or it's consistent. The chef is famous or not, and the cooks on the line want to be chefs one day or they continue to collect the paycheck that keeps their family fed.

As a professional cook it's important for me to read and eat and meet new restaurants. But the dishes I crave, the dining rooms I want to have a good conversation in, are rarely those I've eaten at once. Anything can be amazing once. But how does that dish taste month after month, year after year?

Samovar Tea Lounge was going strong at 18th and Sanchez at the edge of The Castro District when I "discovered it" a few years ago. It didn't need me to talk about it's specialness. It's busy morning, noon and evening. People inside are studying, knitting, reading, sipping, recovering, dating, scoping, listening and imbibing. Samovar's food menu is straightforward and small, changing slightly with the seasons. There are breakfast, brunch, lunch, dinner and high tea offerings. Tea service menus include food and tea in a theme and they are always gracious about letting you order one of the components from these packages with another dish.

My absolute favorite dish is what Samovar calls their egg bowl. Two delicately poached eggs lay next to mounds of flavorful rice and are garnished with the protein of your choice; smoked duck, salmon and tofu are often in rotation, and there's a little ramekin of fresh ginger grated in soy sauce. I'm also a big fan of their house-made scones (some of the best in the Bay Area as far as I'm concerned!), not just because the little bowl of clotted cream for spreading is the real deal.

Of course tea is Samovar's main attraction. From their website,

"Our goal is to create a company that is good for this world. We partner with tea experts and suppliers from small family farms and estates, and local businesses and organizations. Through our service and environment we aim to embody the tea lifestyle and provide a place for our customers to escape, relax, and be healthy."

I know little about tea intellectually. But on a recent visit I drank a Keemun that silenced me. Not being a tea sophisticate I like my black tea with milk. Samovar's staff are well trained, thoroughly knowledgeable and never judgmental. The woman who brought me this tea for which I am not worthy poured hot water into a tiny clear glass dollhouse teapot filled with twiggy leaves and immediately upon filling it poured the barely steeped liquid into a small, handle-less tea cup. She explained that this Keemun was so strong, even a 5 second steep would render the flavor too strong!

I sit here before you to report that this Keemun was not made better by milk. Brew of the gods. Hot liquid like no other. I didn't want to tell you because then there would be less for me. But then I thought you might not believe that Samovar, the place you barely see, the place producing no beeps on your radar screen, was as special as I said, if I did not tell you about this hot elixir, this liquid manna.

At Samovar I have been introduced to two other favorite teas I drink weekly. I go for flavor profiles which list pine, dark, rich, earth, chocolaty, peat, smoky and velvet as possible evocations. If you and I have anything in common, I suggest Pu-erh or Black Velvet.

There's now a second location of Samovar Tea Lounge in the Yerba Buena Gardens. It's located on top of the Martin Luther King Jr. fountain and although encased in glass, this location is as warm an environment as their original. You can buy some of the teas they offer, although when I made an inquiry about the Keemun they said it was too new to the menu to have packaged it yet, and there was no promise that it would be. Samovar's commitment to freshness is amazing and some of the more rare teas will only ever be available if you are drinking them there.

Sometimes I want to go where it's quiet. I enjoy the trust I feel in these places and feel grateful that they continue to survive in San Francisco-- a city not known for it's ease when it comes to owning and operating food businesses. I desire familiar food that's consistently good and sometimes blows my mind. I have a hankering for a little sameness and a dash of surprise.

And when it's time to take a break of trying the latest thing, I hope you'll take cover from the hustle and bustle, or just the fog, and give Samovar a try, even if it's a pot of tea. I can {almost} guarantee your pleasure at doing so.

A recent breakfast at T-28 Cafe in the Outer Sunset reminded me just how good a cup of hot, strong milk tea tastes on lazy weekend mornings. Although the richness of a well-aged pu-erh or the emerald sweetness of a spring shin-cha give me great pleasure as a tea drinker, neither have a place in my heart like down-home milk tea.

Milk tea is its own religion in Hong Kong, intertwined in the colony's history and culinary culture. It's a topic not taken lightly, and I know I enter dangerous territory writing about it as an outsider. I've hosted visitors insisted on traveling with their own packets of instant "3-in-1" milk tea to ensure that their morning cup wouldn't be compromised. Although the boba generation may not remember, milk tea helped defined the intersection of east and west. Enjoyed from morning to midnight, it was served on nearly every street corner. Establishments guarded their secret recipes, and even McDonald's began offering its own version of milk tea.

One of the 28 remaining dai pai dong in Hong Kong. Ubiquitous in the 50s and 60s, these street stalls specialized in both hot and cold milk tea as well as fast fare at all times of the day and night. I love those little, built-in, square stools -- perfect for hunching over a bowl of noodles.

As with any ritual that combines comfort with caffeine, there's much debate over the specifics, from the type of tea leaves to the brand of milk to the precise mechanics of combining the two. Generally, though, most can agree on some basic tenets for milk tea: a blend of Ceylon and Assam leaves brewed for an extended period, a generous stir of evaporated milk, and a hint of sweetness from a spoonful of condensed milk or sugar. Purists will insist on Black & White brand milk (the one with the cow on the label) and a cloth brewing bag to mimic the fine-textured, oblong filters that lend milk tea its nickname in Cantonese: "silk stocking tea." I'm perfectly okay with English and Irish Breakfast teabags, but even the pragmatist in me admits that milk tea with anything else but evaporated milk falls far from its creator's intent.

The key is brewing the tea over low heat for a very long time. The extra tannin gives enough body and bitterness to balance the milk, so the result is a strong yet silky smooth, creamy, and full-bodied drink that's as easy to identify by sight as a properly made espresso. In fact, even before the cup arrives, you'll know: walk into any cafe that makes its own milk tea and you'll pick up instantly milk tea's distinctive scent.

Marrying into the Wu family means learning new habits. The morning after my wedding, Ba Wu brews a big pot of milk tea for all our guests.

Yes, I know, Anglophiles and expats all shudder in horror at the thought of milk tea. But just like a tall glass of Southern sweet tea or a mug of cowboy coffee, the moment you sip one made with integrity and generosity, you'll understand.

For your first cup of milk tea, don't order from a place that makes it from an instant mix. Instead, look for Hong Kong eateries or bakeries where it appears on a separate drink menu. The popularity of bubble tea means a true milk tea has become extremely difficult to find. Try it at Sweetheart Cafe on Grant, D&A on Broadway, or ABC Bakery on Jackson in SF Chinatown. Slanted Door has an excellent version, lifted out of its Chinese diner ambience but honest, strong and good. My favorite source, T-28 Cafe out on Taraval at 28th Avenue, has an extensive menu that also highlights lemon tea, ginger coke, and other lovely libations.

Making Hong Kong Milk Tea

Experiment with various combinations of Ceylon ("English Breakfast") and Assam ("Irish Breakfast") teas. I personally like the redder, warmer flavors of more Assam leaves, but many prefer the darker, more robust Ceylon. If you use a large mesh ball or one of those muslin tea brewing bags, it'll be easier to strain loose tea leaves. Of course, teabags sidestep this entirely.

Bring a small pot of water just to the boiling point, but do not let it actually bubble up. Lower the heat to as low as possible. Add three times as many tea bags or twice as much loose tea as you would normally. Cover and leave the tea to brew for at least 10 minutes and up to 30 minutes. Strain out the tea leaves or remove the teabags; for this, it's okay to squeeze teabags to get the extra boost. Stir in evaporated milk until the tea is the color of caramel, then bring the tea back to very hot serving temperature.

Divide the tea among several cups and invite your guests to stir in a spoonful of sweetened condensed milk or sugar.