Good eats: Turbo mate latte photos

OK!

Oklahoma City it probably the last major city in the United States that I would ever consider visiting for pleasure, below even Houston and Newark. All else equal, I'd book a flight for Cleveland before I came here. But OKC is a convenient first stop on the way to California and my friend Anders lives here, so I have a place to stay and a person to hang out with.

He lives here, because he is a world-class lightweight rower and two Oklahoma energy companies, Chesapeake and Devon, have ponied up the cash to create a national Olympic training center. People tiptoe around the issue, but it's the “boathouse that fracking built.” Nonetheless, Oklahoma is now a hotspot of rowing (and flatwater kayaking). There is a man made “river”, with perfectly graded banks, accomplished by damming what would otherwise be shit-trickle running through downtown. The amenities are astounding – racing shells that cost as much as a house, an altitude simulating training room, erg tanks, world-class weight room. They even have a contraption that is like your standard gym rowing-machine, except you kayak on it. Truly, Anders is living the post-collegiate dream.

Anders proved more than worth as a host. In the short time I was there, we managed to see the boathouse, go out in the Arts district, take a boat tour of the course and check out his favorite coffee shop. And his driving tour of and commentary on downtown OKC was interesting. Oklahoma City is also built on energy money, it's most prominent feature is the as-yet-uncompleted billion dollar Devon tower, which unfortunately looks like an uncircumcised phallus, allegedly with a large ball at the base. Oil derricks, the giant iron pumps that slowly rock up and down, are everywhere, even on the lawn of the Statehouse. The influence of this money seems to put the city at odds with itself. OKC is definitely trying to find an identity, but at this moment it mostly seems disjointed. The downtown area, where the skyscrapers and the Thunder basketball arena are, is a ghost town at night. Major infrastructure projects are everywhere; apparently the city is moving all the interstate interchanges to the outskirts of town. Neighborhoods of un-tastefully large, Italianate houses exist two blocks from dilapidated strips of fast food joints, dollar stores and empty storefronts. In many places, buildings exist just as islands, awkwardly placed too far apart from each other. The average age of marriage for women is 20 or 21, and I'm told almost all the others are actively looking for Mr. Right. At the same time that it felt a world away from where I come from, familiar markers indicated that it really wasn't. This is in contrast to a place like Miami, where it feels like you're in another country. It doesn't have the fake feel of Orlando or Las Vegas, but the general culture in OKC seems so unoriginal – according to Jared, a native Oklahoman, the local food and drink specialties are “fast food” and “whiskey”. Yet I found myself somewhat charmed by parts of the city. That is, the hipster spots.

Anders had done a good job of scouting places and took me to some cool spots. He lives near the arts district, a small cluster of art galleries, bars and restaurants. Apparently every friday the galleries are open at night and have wine tastings, which sounds really cool. We, along with his friend Jared - think pre-weight loss Jonah Hill with an OU hat and a love for designer drugs - and roommate/teammate Vince, went to “the Other Place”, a bar with egyptian-themed murals, small rooms with sofas and drapes, for privacy, and an enormous back patio. Lots of flannel, dark framed glasses, lots of tattoos and piercings. I imagine in summer it's necessary to be outside. We didn't get to sit in one of the secluded areas, but it looked like a place I could hang out in again.

Anders scored again in the morning when he took Vince and me to the Beatnix Cafe, his favorite coffeehouse to eat breakfast and read Sherlock Holmes in. Another hipster-y place, Beatnix has eclectic décor, good coffee, and lots of Yerba Mate. The cost of living is extremely low in OKC – you can buy a house for $40k – so a good avocado, egg and cheese bagel was only $2.99. Anders mentioned to the barista/owner, Dave, that it I was visiting from out of town. Without hesitation, Dave said that I should try his signature drink, the Turbo Mate Latte, on the house. It quickly became apparent that this portly middle-aged guy in an Orange County Choppers tee was a Mate aficionado. He knew exactly how much theobromide and niacin was in each of his mate blends. The Turbo blend is specially crafted from several other Mates, peppermint, guarana, and ginseng; soy milk and a ingredient I didn't catch are added in to make it a latte. One of its features is that it contains all three types of caffeines – those found in coffee, tea and chocolate. The Turbo Mate Latte is Dave's special contribution to this world and he talks about it like it's his baby. He is definitely on to something; if you are ever in Oklahoma, find a way to get to Beatnix and get this drink. It tastes like green tea ice cream that was melted and heated up – creamy, aromatic, it tingles the taste buds and smoothly fills the mouth. Not overpowering, just enough. And it has the equivalent caffeine dose of 15 cups of green tea, so you get really buzzed, but not a jittery buzz, more like your brain is suddenly a helium ballon hovering rising up to meet the cranial dome. As we were tasting our Turbos, a regular came in, ordered a coffee, and simply walked behind the counter to open the fridge for creamer. Neither Dave, nor his other barista, who looked a lot like Skrillex, seemed to notice or care.

Certainly, I hadn't given OKC enough credit. But I doubt I'll be back, at least for a while, especially since Anders will likely be leaving in less than a year. It seems as though I'm as unsure about what I think of the city, as the city is unsure of what it thinks about itself.