Podunk; Downtown Tour

Within, it's brightly lit with white white walls, blond hardwood floors, innocent knickknacks, garden furniture and mismatched tables. Antique tea tins sit on a cupboard and a painted rooster keeps watch. I think kids would like this; there's a lot to look at?a birdbath, a lighthouse, a watering can, a parasol, teddy bear lights. There are some books and tootsie pops on the premises. A mellow jazzy chanteuse on the speakers is soon replaced by more apropos 30s dancehall music. I set my coat down, wander up to the bakery case and ponder the number of special "informal teas" that are offered, "...but you can mix and match in any way." "So you're really going to make it difficult for me." A wooden sign warns "NO SNIVELING."

There's a Chocolate Tea ($14 for one, $25 for two) that comes with "three perfect chocolates" (some possibilities are macadamia nougat, or mousse or a truffle), shortbread and chocolate sauce. And there's a Podunk Smorgasbord Tea ($16 for one, $30 for two) that includes a bit of "just about everything on the menu" along with caramel and lingonberry ginger sauces. I select the Student Tea ($8), though the last course I took was Photo I (or was it Golf I?), and that was a couple years ago. I recall the dismayed Photo teacher at the front of the classroom saying, "I don't know how to get through to you people," and I remember the golf teacher saying, "I'd like to show you how to do that, but I'll get arrested." I assured him I wouldn't sue, and he got behind me and swiveled my hips pretty firmly.

The Student Tea comes with a "hunk" of cardamom cake today (sometimes it's with vanilla cake), two dipping sauces and whipped cream, a pot of tea of your choice and enough napkins. It is brought on an American flag tray by the Earth-motherly blonde who wants to make sure I have everything I need. The toppers (or dippers, depending upon your cake-eating technique) are caramel sauce, apricot sauce and lustrous whipped cream. They're prettily presented, each with its own mini-spoon to match the cake's mini-fork, in a row of little china rectangular bowls, though I keep getting whipped cream on my knuckles when I'm spooning out the apricot, but that's probably just me. The caramel sauce has a wonderfully strong caramel flavor, but is thin, viscous and too sweet to my taste. I could go for more spice in the golden-crusted muffiny textured cake itself, which reaches its heights when topped with the fresh-tasting and well-spiced apricot and soft cooling cream. I've selected jasmine tea; there are a few on offer, including green Sencha, Earl Grey, Lapsang Souchong and some decaffeinateds that my ear weeded out. The jungle garden-transporting jasmine is fragrant and flowery, yet substantial; there's no need for the farmhouse creamer of milk.

When it comes to available treats, "We're a little light..." since it's late in the day. Still, there's enough to sample. Glossy ginger-lemon crinkle cookies are crisp on the outside, chewy on the inside, taste like a cross between a lemondrop and a gingersnap, and leave a welcome ginger burn on the tongue. So spicy, they require a beverage accompaniment. These are good cookies. But my favorites are the soft little hill-shaped buttery almond cookies, "more almond than flour." Lightly confectioner's-sugared; though small, no child's cookies these, they're a rich and perfect go-with for tea. Similar to the Russian tea cakes we used to make for the holidays, but these are moister and not so sticky and sweet.

Cayenne cheddar biscuits are cookie-shaped and -sized, crunchy and delicate in texture; look out for their peppery punch to the palate. De rigueur chocolate chip cookies are on display as well as scones; a puffy focaccia has come out of the oven. So far, the baked goods have been for adults, but the kids are thrown a bone in the small, homey, sweet and light and dreamily frosted cupcakes. One example is yellow cake with a generous cloud of swirled lavender frosting sprinkled with the teensiest of white nonpareils. (For a more adult cupcake, Cupcake Cafe can't be beat, with their not-too-sweet, densely rich, butter-creamed and fastidiously decorated specimens.) Podunk offers a Children's Tea ($8) that features do-it-yourself cupcake frosting and decoration.

Three readers are settled in with their books. A couple come in and actually speak, albeit in hushed tones. It's quiet and bright and the only way to know you're in a city is to look at the women's footwear?red suede sneakers and modified motorcycle boots. My own beat-up Frye's would not be a tipoff. In the podunk I'm from, there'd be quite unmuffled conversation of the weather, and local folk and their illnesses and businesses, and whether you were attending upcoming events at the high school (homecoming, the strawberry festival, the school play). Still, for an escape from metropolitan madness, a spot of tea and a treat or two, Podunk's the place.

Podunk, 231 E. 5th St. (betw. 2nd Ave. & Cooper Sq.), 677-7722.

Downtown Tour

Evening is coming on; I've donned a sweater and am in the kitchen sipping a hot cup of coffee from the pot I've put up. The bell rings and my expected guests file in?Barb, her sister Cory in from Waikiki and their brother Kev in from Pennsylvania. Then Barb says, "and here's your Christmas present," and an unexpected guest, one of my best buds, Diane, who lives in Colorado and whom I've not seen in ages, dances through the doorway. I'm sincerely surprised and screaming.

First there is a discussion, the focus of which is an attempt to determine my hair color. Rolling Rocks and Guinnesses are cracked, Marlboro Lights are lit, tunes are cranked and everyone seems to have brought their own weed. There are complaints about the new security at the airports. "I thought I'd just put joints in a panty liner and wear it." "You know, I really don't want to smoke that after you've been wearing it in your panty liner." I pass, because I have this fantasy that someone will offer me a job, and then I'd have to take a drug test. The voices of reason start chiming in, "The test only gets you if you smoke a lot, not once in a while." "You might as well cuz you're getting the secondhand smoke anyway." "Lane, you just have to drink a lot of water; piss, piss, and take a B-12 tablet." Actually, I'd heard peanut butter?a headhunter felt it was necessary to call and mention that to me a few days before a scheduled interview. But no one's offering to pay my rent if I flunk, so I stick to my drug of choice?French roast.

I suggest Ground Zero, so downstairs we get on the R and come up disconcertingly right next to the fencing. The site and a nearby memorial wall draw some tears. Then on to a much lighter venue?John Street Bar for pints and pool. It's obvious Cory teaches high school physics, "You just tap it there so it'll slice that way, you see?" Someone handsome comes in and gives me a once-over. And then a twice-over, but hunger has set in so we leave and traipse up to Chinatown. On our walk, Barb wants to know, "How's your mom?" "She just got her master's degree in English lit." "How long did that take?" "Thirty years." "She must have changed her major a lot."

On Baxter St., Thái So'n Vietnamese catches our eye. It smells fishy, but is crowded so we stay. We like the large soft-wrappered and crunchy-vegetabled summer rolls and we make short work of the crispy fried spring rolls. We split a shredded chicken salad that is a lot like cole slaw and very vinegary. The best dish we order is the chicken curry with French bread. The chicken falls off the bone and there are some soft potatoes lurking in the bowl. As for the sauce, seems like they put the lime in the coconut and "is that cilantro in there?" Really good, especially with cold Tsing Taos. They have Vietnamese beer as well. Kev is chickenshit and orders some standard Chinese food?chicken and vegetables over rice, which is attractively presented with fresh jewel-colored peppers and cooked tomato wedges. Though I guess one could say I was chickenshit for not getting the chili frogs' legs. It's so reasonable, Di insists on picking up our check.

Next, we step over to La Bella Ferrara Cafe. It's jammed, but I hold up five fingers and get back the only-in-New-York-chitchat-less nod and we're seated in a minute. We're all pleased with our pastries and my sfogliatelle is perfect?flaky and fresh and sweet ricotta-filled, but everyone's forks find their way to Cory's Vesuvius?an over-the-top collage of fluffy chocolate mousse, cheesecake, a brownie bottom and stiff dark-chocolate frosting. And the place is not too dear so Barb picks up this tab.

Spring Lounge is wall-to-wall people, so we make our only misstep of the evening?entering the likely not-long-for-this-world Gatsby's. It's fairly new, but done up in 90s decor; although there is a pretty red pool table. Environs are impersonal and only one bartender on a Saturday night means you go thirsty. Di asks Cory where's the ladies' room. "Back there. It's the door that says 'Ladies.'" Glad I'm not one of her students. Di returns to report, "It said 'Women.'" Cory downs her Carbomb first. She's good at pool and drinking. I'm told Sex with an Alligator should be served as a pousse-cafe, but our boring bartendress shakes it. Good thing we went to Gatsby's; our drink orders would have got us thrown out anyplace else.