Brewed strong, served cold, and poured for guests — a drink of hospitality and celebration.
It started at my family's table.
Growing up, there was always a pitcher of cold hibiscus in our fridge: deep red, tart and sweet, and on the table whenever the family sat down together. For years I thought of it as something from our part of the world.
Then I learned it's poured almost everywhere: bissap in West Africa, agua de jamaica in Mexico, sorrel in the Caribbean, karkadeh in Egypt and Sudan. One flower, a world of traditions.
I'm obsessed with food, and I kept running into the same trade-off: drinks made with better ingredients either taste like a compromise or cost twice as much. Somewhere along the way we all just accepted that. I didn't want to.
So I started making my own in my kitchen here in Houston: a sparkling hibiscus drink with some energy, something that fits into a normal day. I've been at it for months, and now I'm working with a beverage lab to get it into a can.
I'm building it in public, mistakes included. Every Sunday I send a short email about what worked, what broke, and when the first Houston tastings are.

at tables around the world.

