I was an adventurous kid, with parents involved in both eastern and western medicine, so I grew up experimenting with all kinds of uncommon ways of self-mending. Homeopathic pellets for headaches, essential oil on my feet for sleep, moxibustion for sore muscles... Hanging out in health food stores for fun was basically my M.O.

One herbal remedy I encountered early on was kava kava—a bitter root reported to calm anxiety. The psychoactive plant is native to the western Pacific, where communities in Polynesia have been drinking it in tea form for thousands of years. Kava bars have long been popular in Hawaii, but only recently have they started popping up on the mainland. Last spring, N.Y.C. got its first few, one of which is Brooklyn Kava in Bushwick, close enough to make me a regular. My propensity for plant-based adventures has only grown since childhood, so I was eager to see how Brooklyn Kava’s recipes compared to mine and who else in New York was spending their happy hours sipping esoteric root extracts.

The bar at Brooklyn kava, where alcohol is nowhere in sight

Brooklyn Kava owner, Harding Stowe, opened the bar last year, intent on sharing with others the root that had relieved his everyday stress. “It shocked me that, in the biggest city in America, there wasn’t this incredible thing,” he says. From the Fijian family-farm sourced kava to creative cocktail recipes and partnerships with yoga studios in the works, Stowe wanted to do kava differently (in his words: “no tiki”).

When I first visited, the bar was standing-room only but very quiet. I assumed it was the sobriety until I realized that everyone was … coloring. I’d arrived on “Kava and Color” night, a monthly partnership with a group of art therapists. “[Normally] our customers range from bankers and lawyers to musicians and artists,” says Stowe. “Because of our location, we attract mostly creatives.”

I squeezed up to the bar for my first round—a single shell. Kava is traditionally served in coconut shells, which Brooklyn Kava imitates with shallow, wide, bowls. With minor variations, the drink is made by kneading the dried, pulverized root in water or coconut milk to create a cloudy extract. The “tea” looks like a murky puddle and tastes only slightly better. It’s astringent and earthy with a silt-y mouthfeel. The powdered root slowly settles to the bottom of the cup, so you have to stir as you go. Each order is accompanied by a small chaser—either a piece of fruit (I recommend pineapple), juice, or milk (soy, almond). Curiously, kava makes your mouth numb. Not quite numb enough to dull your taste, but close. This numbness happens quickly and is the first of kava’s effects. Next, a calmness spreads slowly through the body, easing (mostly muscle) tension and nerves without intoxicating the mind.

The staff is quick to ask if it’s your first experience and, if so, will recommend a double. Kava has a reverse tolerance, so first-timers need to drink more to feel its effects. It’s not unusual to feel nothing your first time; regulars are a cheaper date.