I grew up drinking tea. It was always around, especially when guests would come over. My mother would prepare pastries, fresh fruit, and nuts for our visitors to enjoy with their tea. When the guests would arrive, they’d take their shoes off, then make their way to our leather brown couches with the table full of assorted treats at arm’s reach. After a few moments of letting them settle in, I’d ask what kind of drink they’d prefer. Typically, the options in an Afghan household are black or green tea, if not water. It was the care behind serving tea and hosting that made it feel like an art form in itself.

In Los Angeles, most people are caught up in the 9-to-5 hustle. Shops that serve tea or coffee open earlier to accommodate the morning rush, but Tea at Shiloh was built with a different business model in mind. Embracing the unhurried momentum of sipping tea, Shiloh’s doors open at 10 a.m. for their daylight hours, with guests paying a $35 entry fee and enjoying unlimited tea until 3 p.m. Late-night tea hours are from 7 to 11 p.m., with pricing that varies based on the theme of the night. Tea at Shiloh is named after the owner, Shiloh Enoki, who had a difficult time finding late-night spots that did not revolve around serving alcohol. So she opened her own teahouse, pouring intention back into every cup.

“I wanted it to feel like you’re entering my home where everything is cozy and free inside,” said Enoki.

With a Chilean and Bolivian background, she drew inspiration from a range of cultures — including Japanese and Iranian teahouses — in hopes of welcoming an inclusive, diverse community. The space has a “choose your own adventure” vibe where guests can choose to create art, relax, or socialize.

Tea at Shiloh is reviving the art of hosting in teahouses by creating a space that’s not just selling you a drink to get you caffeinated for your workday. Instead, it’s fostering an environment that’ll make guests want to stay and socialize, rather than retreating into their own work bubbles.

As an avid tea lover longing for a sense of home, I decided to find out if Tea at Shiloh truly felt like a space where everyone felt welcome.

When I entered, a man with curly hair tied into a bun introduced himself as Micah Bachrach and welcomed me in with a hug. I was surprised by the gesture, since most people reserve that kind of warmth for a close friend rather than a stranger. In many Los Angeles teashops I’ve visited, I’m usually told to “wait here until we have a table ready.” However, here I was immediately embraced. I turned my head to the right and noticed a woman wearing a white button-down holding her baby. Surrounding her were three other women who were taking turns holding and cooing at her baby. As I turned my head to the left, I noticed a pregnant woman. She laid on the cushioned seat, which was only a few inches above the ground, rubbing her belly against her long, grey dress. I then turned my attention to Bachrach as he pointed to the shoe rack against the wall by the entryway way encouraging me to take my shoes off and get comfortable.

This was the first thing that reminded me of my own culture. In other tea houses I’ve visited, I was expected to take off my shoes only when immediately sitting down. At Shiloh, however, I was asked to do so to explore the space, similar to how I would welcome guests in my own home.

While removing my platform Mary Janes, Bachrach had formally introduced himself as Shiloh’s resident musician, who plays nightly during the late-night tea hours. While walking over a thin rug under my feet, Bachrach led me towards the tea bar where the tea hosts had set out three options for the night.

One tea host, Helia Sadeghi, spent time explaining each drink and the effects they’d have so I could choose a drink that matched my mood for the night. The first, Moonlight White, was comprised of white tea leaves and was the only caffeinated tea option. Next came Leche de Tigre, made of red rooibos, cinnamon, coconut, orange peel, licorice root, marshmallow root, and ginger root which smelled like a baked good made with autumnal flavors. Finally there was Love Potion, consisting of rose, rosehips, strawberry leaf, and jujube, and described as a romantic, antioxidant-rich flavor meant to nourish the body and calm the mind.

Sadeghi came to tea early, as she grew up surrounded by plants and herbs in Iran. As she explained the distinctions between the tea selections, she poured a small cup of each and allowed me to smell the aromas to get a sense of which tea I preferred. She assured me that the tea was complimentary and unlimited all night long so I could come back and try the other flavors later. I started off with a cup of Love Potion and tasted the warm florals in every sip.

With my hot and rosy drink in hand, I made my way to the long dining table.

The table’s long bench design was intentional as Enoki hoped that it would encourage strangers to sit next to each other and start conversations. When I took a seat near the end of the bench, I was greeted by Julia Nelligan who was sitting directly across from me. She was invited by Enoki to set up a pop up kava station for the night. Nelligan shared the properties of the drink and asked if I would like to try a cup. Because it was an alternative drink to the tea, guests were expected to pay for the kava if they wanted to indulge. So I put my rose tea to the side and paid seven dollars for a cup of kava served in what looked like a small brown bowl.

Nelligan warned me that my tongue may get numb, and it soon did. Then I felt an ease overcome my body. The earthy drink invigorated my senses and made me want to explore the space further. Watercolor palettes, markers, pens, brushes, and sheets of paper were laid out on the table for anyone to use, next to a calming array of burning candles. As soon as I sat down and picked up a brush, the lights dimmed, and what was once a warm-toned room turned into hues of pink and blue. The main lights were gone, and the only sources of light came from small lanterns and candles spread throughout the space.

This was Shiloh’s way of letting guests know that the live music would soon begin.

I walked towards the stairs which were lined in candles next to a bookshelf that was constantly being visited by guests. I discovered a small room made of brick walls near the bookshelf and entered. I sat on the floor cushion and noticed how similar it felt to the cushions seating in my own culture.

After a while of sitting and journaling notes, I was approached by the second tea host, Amelia Rose. She offered me freshly cut fruit in a small cup made up of a mix of sliced orange, apple slices, green grapes, and plums. I felt as if I were at my own home, being offered tea and fresh fruit by my mother at that moment. I noticed how grounding the space had felt walking barefoot and having elements to soothe my nervous system, whether that be my warm cup of tea, the rhythm of the music, the dim lighting, or the calming aroma from a nearby oil diffuser. I soon made my exit back to the main area and noticed guests lying on the ground and taking up as much space as they pleased.

Ironically, I had brought my laptop with me just in case I wanted to retreat from the crowd. At no point, however, did I feel the need to reach for it. The guests were inviting, the drinks were calming, and the hosts were constantly checking on us to make sure we were having a good time. I felt as if I were at a family gathering, where everyone was happy socializing over drinks. The sense of being at home, soon washed over me.

Tea at Shiloh not only made a space for connection, it also brought in the essence of home and belonging under one roof.