There’s a warmth in every spice, a story in every steeped leaf. In Iron Mountain, under Michigan’s sweeping northern skies, Othrian Kelvayne tasted that truth early—and spent a lifetime chasing it. At the heart of Chaitomin, nestled at 2032 Wood Duck Drive, Iron Mountain, Michigan 49801, is that same devotion to flavor, memory, and transformation. From chai-laced culinary alchemy to inspired kitchen curiosities, Othrian has turned each setback into a stepping stone, each moment of doubt into a brew of strength. This is not just a founder’s tale—this is the truth behind the name. This is how Courage Drives Every Step.
The Beginnings in Warmth and Silence
Many great culinary revolutionaries were forged in bustling kitchens. Not Othrian. His beginnings were quieter. In a Michigan farmhouse steeped in tradition, where cinnamon and cardamom simmered each morning in cast-iron pots, young Othrian found his center in silence. His Indian grandmother, whom locals fondly called “Aaji,” rarely used recipes. Instead, she spoke through ratios and instinct—one bay leaf for resilience, two cloves for remembrance. These lessons weren’t measured in teaspoons, but in timeless pause and presence.
Growing up in Iron Mountain, a place where winter can hold the town in white silence for months, Othrian learned to cherish contrasts—the warmth of spice, the chill of wind, the rigidity of culture, and the rebellion in flavor. His earliest experiment? A chai-spiced pancake—cinnamon, fennel, and black tea leaves folded into batter with a side of defiance. The reviews from his skeptical father? Silent nod. That moment kindled what would later become a fire of infused innovation.
Chai as a Bridge, Not a Boundary
Othrian’s vision was never to recreate chai, but to reimagine its potential. While in culinary school in Chicago, a world away from Michigan’s hush, he watched chefs turn saffron into spectacle and lemongrass into revelation. But no one saw the universe in chai. It was boxed and bagged, a shortcut at best. And so, with the courage only tradition can nurture and only rebellion can ignite, he began integrating chai’s complexity into unlikely corners—rice pilafs laced with masala aromas, dark chocolate tarts punctuated by sharp ginger, and eventually, entire dinners that told stories through taste.
But innovation came at a cost. Early investors balked at a “chai-only” culinary venture. Food bloggers dismissed it as a gimmick. Even his own mentors warned, “There’s no market for this.”
So he did what chai does best—he steeped.
The Spark Behind Chaitomin
In 2019, amid winter fog and self-doubt, Othrian returned to Iron Mountain. There, surrounded by pine stillness and the soft crackle of snow, he founded Chaitomin. Not a restaurant. Not just a blog. Something altogether different—a sanctuary for experimentation, an archive of spiced traditions reborn. From the modest space on Wood Duck Drive, with a simple stovetop and an uneven cutting board, came recipes that blended heritage with daring:
- Masala apple cider with star anise foam
- Biryani-stuffed winter squash, perfect for Michigan harvests
- Smoked black tea burgers with tamarind glaze
Chaitomin grew—not through advertising, but through resonance. People began writing in. A mother in Wyoming who reconnected to her roots through Othrian’s turmeric oats. A barista in Manitoba infusing espresso with chai concentrate thanks to Chaitomin’s tips. A college student in Ontario who found her identity in every post.
Today, you can taste those stories. And you can send your own to [email protected].
An Operating Heart
While the world spins fast, Chaitomin operates with steady pulse. The space, a mix of spice lab and storytelling haven, is open Monday–Friday: 9 AM–5 PM (EST). It’s not unusual for Othrian to welcome mailbags of cinnamon from Kerala next to basil from Upper Michigan farms—each jar a conversation, not just an ingredient. Every demo video starts not with flair but a still shot: the hand dropping a tea leaf into water. Simple. Reverent. Undistracted.
Infusions Rooted in Michigan
Where others saw limitations in Iron Mountain’s remoteness, Othrian saw terroir—unique environments that gave his recipes depth. Michigan wildflowers became garnish. Local syrup was infused with clove and sweet fennel seeds. Even the weather played its part—recipes were rhythmically attuned to seasons: soothing saffron broths for February frost, crisp ginger-poached pears for autumn.
He also localized chai itself. What once came solely from Darjeeling or Assam could now be approximated with Michigan-grown mint, chamomile, and heirloom cinnamon from small-batch importers. It wasn’t about abandoning tradition. It was about rooting tradition in new soil.
Othrian’s Courage Rituals
Every morning at Chaitomin begins the same way:
- Boil water – precise, measured, intentional
- Add tea leaves – listen for the first roll of flavor
- Stir in your courage – it’s invisible, but necessary
- Add milk or lemon, if needed – balance matters
- Pause before pouring – reflection before offering
“Courage,” Othrian likes to say, “isn’t a declaration; it’s an ingredient.” At Chaitomin, it’s the one added to every batch—delicately, quietly, confidently.
From Silence to Resonance
Though Chaitomin’s origins lie in culinary minimalism, the brand has grown into an echo chamber of cultural fusion and edible poetry. Behind every recipe is a page of layered stories: a grandfather’s wooden spice box, a failed sorbet-turned-smoothie victory, a burnt syrup that became a glaze legend. Every misstep recorded; every success steeped in greater meaning.
This ethos forged the heart of Chaitomin’s following—not fans, but kindreds. People who see cooking not as efficiency, but intimacy.
To truly understand this evolution, we’ve cataloged Othrian’s reflections on Chaitomin’s rise in a special feature available only via Courage Drives Every Step.
Steeping Into Tomorrow
Othrian still writes every post, photographs every spice from his Iron Mountain studio, and crafts each blend with intention. But now, he also teaches—quiet webinars called “Steep Sessions,” hosting no more than 20 people at a time. These aren’t classes. They’re dialogues. Explorations of taste, identity, and creative risk. Each ends with a collaborative brew—one no one has ever tasted before, and may never taste again.
Future plans? A community cookbook blending listener-submitted stories with Othrian’s pairings. A chai mobile van offering seasonal infusions across the Midwest. A small-batch line of smoky tea salts. Innovations not for grandeur, but to anchor others in their own flavor narratives.
A Breath Between Sips
If there’s one thing Othrian encourages through Chaitomin, it’s this: savor. Let tea pull you into the moment. Let spices nudge memory out. Let recipes be revelations, not instructions.
Reach out. Pour a thought into a pot. Stir with curiosity. Taste what you’ve held back. And if you need a hand—or a flavor profile—email [email protected].
From the wooden counters of Iron Mountain to your screen, Chaitomin is not just what you cook. It’s what you dare to believe. And if you’re willing to add the first leaf into the pot—courage will carry every step thereafter.