Before leaving Fresno, I asked my dad if I could bring some tea and boba back to Nashville so I could share some homemade deliciousness with my friends. He sent me back to Tennessee with a five pound bag of boba, six packages to tea leaves (Earl Grey, House Special Black, Jasmine Green, and Thai), a couple pounds of non-dairy creamer, and a strainer. This is enough to last at least two days in the shop, and I have until December 17th to use it all because I don’t want to drag everything back to Fresno–the boba goes bad a month after it’s opened.
However, I won’t talk about how I made boba yesterday. Nope. I didn’t spend an hour slow-cooking boba until it was soft, tender, and bled starchy goodness. I didn’t take the time to explain to my friends that the boba with crunchy innards they were eating from other bobaries in Nashville were stale because shops are too cheap/lazy to make fresh batches daily, or simply because they used instant crap. I didn’t brew a batch of House Special and Earl Grey yesterday, and I didn’t receive grandiose fanfare for spectacular milk tea. And most of all, I didn’t tell people that my black market boba tea shop would be churning out more batches before Christmas.
So since I didn’t do any of that, the Nashville Department of Public Health has no reason tracking down my underground boba operation to shutdown my medical school backup plan. There’s absolutely no shady business going on at all.
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