The menu board at LaBella Bean Coffee Shop and Cafe in Bridgeville, Pa., invites, “Check out our loose tea!”
“Tell me about your loose teas,” I said on my first visit. I was told to look behind me.
In this case, loose tea means boxes of Choice brand teabags, not corralled behind the counter but on the loose in a lovely old piece of furniture repurposed as a tea display case, accessorized with some vegetable-shaped teapots. Customers are free to peruse and choose their own.
The other customers that morning included a table of older guys drinking coffee and talking, guys who probably meet there regularly. When the morning roundtable retirees choose a place like this instead of McDonald’s or the donut shop, it’s a good sign.
I had a view of the coffee guys because I was considering my tea options. It was nice to have time to browse, read the flavors and ingredients, and finally settle on jasmine green, instead of standing at the cash register as I must at some coffee shops, holding up the line of people getting their morning coffee fix.
All my life, Bridgeville has been simply the first in a series of suburban exits on I-79 leading to Pittsburgh. For three weeks it was also the town where I went regularly to see a relative who was in a rehabilitation center to get stronger before going home.
I could have made tea at home and put it in a travel mug, and I did that on many mornings during that spell. But when life pulls the rug of routine out from under you, it’s nice to find a new place to help maintain the ritual of tea. I found LaBella by asking my smartphone’s Maps function “tea bridgeville.”
If I lived in Bridgeville, this would be be my go-to coffee shop (and not just because it’s the only indigenous coffee shop). There’s a sunny glass-walled area with lots of small tables, and a cozier living room area near a fireplace, with a couch and big leather chairs good for sinking into. A bar along one wall has ample outlets for those who came for the free WiFi. Outside, a few tables offer more seating in the shade of some trees.
LaBella serves breakfast, lunch and plenty of baked goods. I never tried anything on the breakfast menu, but the egg white, spinach and feta wrap sounded good. On my third visit, for what might be called an emergency self-care lunch, I chose a half-and-half option—half a Mediterranean Salad with a generous amount of chickpeas, half a LaBella Bruschetta sandwich. Both were attractively plated and delicious.
The last time I stopped in, the morning coffee guys were sitting at the outside tables. One had a huge poodle. He pulled it closer to him when I came near, but the dog seemed placid.
“Does your dog bite?” I asked. Naw, he told me.
I petted its honey-colored head, scratched the curly fur on its neck. Then, with perfect timing, he made an old joke that made me feel like a regular.
“That’s not my dog.”
On that last visit, I chose Dragon Well, a strong green tea. Legend has it that the name comes from a Chinese well with dense water. After a rain, the lighter rainwater floats on it in a jagged curvy pattern resembling a dragon. I also like to think of it as having curative properties enough to make a dragon well. It seemed an auspicious tea to choose on the day my loved one was well enough to be driven home.
The woman behind the counter put my tea in two paper cups plus the cardboard sleeve, as if she knew I was taking it on a journey.
The chalk drawing visible on the way out said what it always says: “Each day is a fresh start.” Yes, it is. Some days, it’s a fresh cup of green tea. Some days, it’s a discharge from a medical facility back to the familiarity and routine of home. And every day, it’s the ability to choose how to roll with what we can’t control.
Photo by Judith Doyle, Creative Commons license via Flickr. Post by Laura Lynn Brown.
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Katie says
Laura,
LaBella sounds like my kind of place!
The lovely cabinet/hutch with the tea tins, the pretty “Each day is a Fresh Start” chalkboard and then the menu – oh my goodness – sign me up. Any tea/coffee shop with Nutella, hot oatmeal, and a fireplace?!
Enjoyed your post and couldn’t agree more with your observations in the last paragraph, especially the final sentence:)
Gratefully,
Katie
Katie says
Hope it’s not inappropriate to share a poem in response to this type of post – I realize it’s not a prompt, but I’m kinda on a roll with haiku and was inspired:
jasmine green hot tea
sofa and chairs by the fire
biscotti, Nutella, yum
*****
coffee regulars
sit around sipping the joe
tease the newcomer
Laura Brown says
Around here, poetry is always an appropriate response! Love it.
Katie says
Glad:)
Thanks!
Katie says
one more:
Dragon well – will it?
Will it make my dragon well?
Yes, if her draft’s long
Okay, I’m getting a little punchy – time to call it a night;)
Megan Willome says
I really like where you went with this one, Laura, about tea being that stability in a world we can’t control. Especially loved this sentence: “But when life pulls the rug of routine out from under you, it’s nice to find a new place to help maintain the ritual of tea.”
Will be on a trip next week and will keep my eyes open for new places that help me maintain my tea ritual.
Debra Hale Shelton says
I loved this essay, Laura. Tea brings out the poetry in your words.
Your details — the dog joke, the story of how dragonwell tea got its name, the reference to “loose” tea and what it really meant — all left me wanting to see this shop or to find one like it near me. Savoy’s is Fayetteville is nice but crowded and is, shall we say, a bit out of my way.
Like you, I can drink my tea at home. But sharing the tea or the space with others always helps.
Laura Brown says
After a night spent at a rehab bedside, it is good to revisit this place and to start my workday here.
Dragonwell in my travel mug. Apple pie for breakfast. (“Warm it up?” “Barely. Just take the edge off.” “Whipped cream?” “No, thanks. Not before noon.”)
And it’s good to be reminded to choose to roll with what I can’t control.