Oklahoma City Chai Tour
A Primer and Brief Selection of Local Stops
Words by Sundeep Sharma / Photos by Hannah Hudson
If I had to choose one chai for the rest of my life, I wouldn't hesitate: the chai at Hotel Moti Mahal in Ahmedabad, India, with a side of Maska Bun. My uncle's family lives nearby and we've been visiting Hotel Moti Mahal for 20 years. The chai tastes exactly the same every time—sweet, gently spiced, creamy, delicious, the standard against which I measure all others. I lived in Bharuch (Gujarat), India, until I was 16, when I immigrated to the United States and eventually completed a degree in geophysics. I work in Oklahoma’s energy industry but dream about Indian chai. Oklahoma does not have a Hotel Moti Mahal, so its chai is a sweet memory that helps me sleep at night. However, that comfort has not stopped me from finding my favorite OKC chai spots.
My first go-to for good Indian chai is All About Cha in Yukon. That might come as a shock to many, and I understand. At first taste, I could not believe I was drinking a traditional-style Indian chai when I first ordered the Royal Black Chai. It arrived sloshing over the rim like a ’90s Bollywood dance number. The chai was strong and the spices were front and center. Chai is best consumed when you aerate it with a light slurp. One can taste the cardamom and black pepper typically added to a masala chai. Most importantly, they didn't froth the milk. Let’s just all say it out loud: An Indian chai is not a Starbucks latte. I settled into conversation, the chai and the nippy weather complemented each other. This is the version I'd recommend to anyone looking for a masala chai.
Let’s back up. Indian chai culture is barely 100 years old. Tea itself came from China thousands of years ago—the Chinese word “cha,” or tea, is the source of the Hindi word "chai"—but the way Indians drink it today, with milk and spices, only became widespread in the early 1900s. The British established tea plantations in India in the mid-1800s. Tea was associated with colonization and brutal labor conditions on plantations, so Indians didn't drink much tea at first. Then in 1901, the Indian Tea Association realized Indians themselves could be a target market and started promotional campaigns. By the 1930s, the Great Depression caused tea prices to fall and created a massive surplus. The tea industry responded by expanding a marketing push across India. Vendors started adding spices and increasing milk and sugar to stretch the tea and make it cheaper. By the 1940s, during the independence movement, tea went from being this imperialist drink to a symbol of Indian unity. Chai became Indian.
My second stop is for the Irani chai at NW OKC’s India Bazaar, which includes Desi Bites and sits immediately south of Saffron. This chai is completely different from All About Cha’s. It's thick and rich, a dessert drink. They boil the milk down until it's concentrated and then add the chai leaves, so you get this sweet, creamy drink with fewer spices. It's what happens when Persian influence meets Indian tea culture.
Back to India. There, chai isn't consumed on a whim; it's built into the day. Morning chai to wake up, mid-morning chai at work, afternoon chai around 4 or 5 when energy dips, evening chai with snacks. The afternoon chai break is practically sacred—offices slow down, shops pause, people gather. It's when you catch up with coworkers or family, when decisions get made over sitting and steeping cups. It's about having these built-in moments throughout the day where you stop and sit with someone.
My third stop is Curry Point Food Truck, nestled along I-40 in the Bricktown Hotel parking lot. The owner greeted us warmly, eager to chat in Punjabi and even more eager to make us a cup. The chai was lighter and more aromatic. I could smell the fennel, or saunf in Hindi, with its sweet, almost minty quality. This is Punjabi cha (the Punjabi did not adopt the “i” spelling). It's simpler than the heavily spiced masala versions; usually just fennel, cardamom, and black tea. This style is closer to what you'd get in North India as an everyday drink, less aggressive than the ginger-heavy alternatives.
Chai immediately transports me back home, sitting with friends on motorcycles, our preferred mode of transport, or hanging out by the side of the road. Late nights at chai stalls where conversations are stretched from one hour into two. That's what chai has always been for me—a way to pause and connect.
Our final stop was Sheesh Mahal, where we tried both the regular chai and the Kashmiri version. The regular chai was stronger, more water-based, allowing the tea and spices to come to the fore. The Kashmiri chai was something different entirely — pink with almonds, sweet but balanced, a dessert drink perfect for sipping outside. One of the owners walked us through his particular recipe, the process of boiling the milk down, the timing, the technique. Then he said something that stuck: "I don't like different masalas in my chai. I just want to feel chai. Not the spices." It's an art, he told us: the color, the smell.
Chai is fundamental to Indian culture and each Indian’s personal story, their origin story. Even though chai recipes vary across regions and families and each person feels strongly about their perfect chai, it isn't really about the recipe. It's about memories from youth. What shop you went to after school or the smell of your kitchen while ingredients simmered on the stove. My memories are of my dad’s mint tea or ginger tea, sometimes with cardamom, or the Hotel Moti Mahal. All About Cha comes closest to my perfect, everyday chai, but perfection is not the point. It's the camaraderie, the conversations. The best chai is the one you're drinking with someone you want to talk to. Connection is the tradition.
