As an English student abroad in the US, at 19, I missed the same two things then as I do today whenever I travel – the BBC (although having the cloud on the move somewhat alleviates this) and good tea. American tea, as the enlightened appreciate is dire; passable attempts at serving Earl Grey must always be met with derision and the whole experience is usually marred by having to ask for milk. For a country that encourages its citizens to commit suicide by overeating, it’s amazing that milk doesn’t form part of those thought processes surrounding the brewing of tea. For a neither poor nor well off student, Starbucks took much of the agony out of an unwelcome situation: it offered mugs the size of Greater London, provided room for milk and the barista always served two teabags – thereby improving the strength of the bland tea whilst reassuring me that the American dream still meant bigger and better.

I spent many an afternoon studying and drinking tea at Starbucks (on the corner of 504 W 24th St and San Antonio St in Austin), but not before I’d figured out how to order tea, which was confusing as all the store boards pointed towards coffee concoctions (and, at that age, I was yet to discover the magic of the hidden menu). As I dislike coffee with a passion, finding only espresso bearable, the baristas would always audition their ‘English guy ordering tea’ routines. So, at least as far as hot beverages were concerned, I became a Starbucks convert. I learned the lingo, discovered how not to burn myself after resealing lids on the takeaway cups (yes, there were flaws in the system) and paid my respects to their chocolate chunk shortbread.

Now in my early thirties I’ve trodden a well-worn path as a regular. Where possible, of course, I look for local tea rooms and coffee shops hideaways. But in the same old parts of London – as with other cities – I find myself guided back by the familiar green and white insignia. Free Wi-Fi with VPN access and accessible power sockets are such a benefit to working on the move (I increasingly find my mobile data allowance isn’t dented) that I gravitate to Starbucks rather than one of the many over-priced new coffee houses that have sprung up. Which is no surprise given that their idea of brewing tea falls somewhat in-line with the American model: add boiling water to a cup or mug and dunk a teabag lightly to taste.

I’ve long since moved on from the heady days of drinking tea in Starbucks and have become a chai latte connoisseur, having been introduced to real chai. I now forego tea for a faux-coffee which, whilst a poor doppelgänger to its non-latte Pakistani equivalent (my favourite, perhaps, best made at home as few places in London brew it these days), keeps me sane and provides a much needed sugar rush. But something worrying is happening to my chai fix and it’s threatening to force me out of Starbucks and, practically, into the arms of the decidedly dodgy Turkish gent running the coffee shop down the road (the sort with a gaudy selection of pâtisserie which looks as if it was once photographed an advert and then forgotten about). My chai teas are now almost all arriving cold.

I’d like to think that the iced chai I recieved at the end of last year was a one-off. It neatly combined 50% chai mix and 50% reconstituted, freezing water. It went back and, true to the company’s motto, was replaced. The second attempt didn’t fare much better, but at least it didn’t have hypothermic survivors floating on the surface. Since then every time I’ve been to Starbucks in late 2010 and into this year I’ve received a tepid drink and it’s starting to concern me. I really don’t want to feel forced to ask for an extra hot drink whenever I walk into the a coffeehouse, especially when the person next to me is receiving a steaming cup of liquid mud. My drink is not an afterthought, even when a recent change in Starbucks policy dictates that Baristas must only make two drinks at a time!

So if, like me, you’re suffering from similar woes, here is how to get the perfect faux Chai Tea Latte made at Starbucks:

- Ask the barista to add the chai mix in parts with the boiling water (they will not do this unless you ask)

- If you’re in a long queue, request your drink extra hot (just in case the water in the barista machine is tepid)

- Always request a takeaway cup, even if you’re staying in (else your chai will remain hot for barely a few minutes)

- For the ultimate fix, ask for 1.5-2 shots of gingerbread syrup to be added to the mix first (3 shots can overpower the flavour). It’s sometimes helpful to gauge whether the barista has made this combination before (as most haven’t).

This is a bit more than a spring clean, though. glenaitken.com has been migrated to the latest iteration of WordPress, the theme is new, the content’s been updated and the social feature set expanded. A few pages will go live during the course of Monday 7 March, 2011, but things seem good to go!

Of course, a few thanks from Glen are in order: Gary Dalkin, for casting an eye over the content (read his article on music in French film in the April issue of Gramophone), Guenther, Cornelia, Dimitri and Jay – for their respective help in moving things forward.