Teatime

It is Saturday! Of course, this doesn't mean very much considering how little class time I have during the week, but there is something special about the day anyway. I am going out tonight for a very fancy grownup cocktail at the Grand Cafe. I think there's one with Prosecco and peach puree in it, but I forget what it is called. I am wearing fancy dangly grown up earrings and am very excited to spend a night pretending to be sophisticated. It will be nice to get out of my room, where I have spent the majority of the day reading about the "12th century renaissance," which I am starting to think is a figment of 20th century historians' imaginations.

One thing about going out for cocktails means I will have no more weekend allowance to go out for tea tomorrow. Tea (proper noun) has become a Sunday ritual for me (if something can be made into a ritual on such short notice, anyway). This seems like a very appropriate juncture for me to explain about teatime in England. Where to start? In America, we think of "teatime" as 4:00, but it could be anywhere between 2:00 and 5:00 here. Most cafes and hotel lounges serve afternoon tea as an unofficial meal. It works out well for me, because St. Peter's only opens for brunch on the weekends and my stomach starts rumbling loud enough to attract annoyed glares from people in the library around 3:00. I am trying to find the best tea place here before Pol and Katie come to visit in March so I'll know where to take them, so that means I've gone to four venues already. The best place for atmosphere is the Grand Cafe (same locale for cocktails tonight, it turns into a lounge after 7:00), but if its quality scones you're after, you want to go to the Rose, or the Queen's coffee house. Also of note is the lounge at the Bank Hotel on High Street, but its a little too fancy for everyday tea. Once you go in and choose an appropriate window seat, a well dressed British man of uncertain sexuality will approach you and take your order. He is guaranteed to have well-gelled hair, pointy shoes and a refreshingly shy demeanor. Pub boys are overbearing and wink a lot. Tea boys are shy and nice. There's nothing bad about that, by the way, I'm just noting the details for your enjoyment. I've never had a female waiter or barrista, which I think is a little weird, but I digress.

There are three main categories of tea you can choose from (from which you can choose, depending on how you like your prepositions), no matter where you go:

Tea Cakes: if you ask for "tea cakes" you will get a personal pot of tea, and a plate with two tea cakes, which are kind of a mix between bread and scones. They are wide like hamburger buns but more delicious and sweet, and always have raisins. They are served toasted with butter and jam on the side. If you're thinking cakes as in dessert cakes with frosting, think again. This is the cheapest, and in many ways most satisfying tea.

Cream Tea: this is the best option, hands down. You get your requisite pot of tea (I like English breakfast with milk, but there's no point in adding sugar unless it is in cube form). Instead of tea cakes on a plate, you get two hot scones on a fancy schmancy two tier tray, the top tier being occupied by a dish of raspberry preserves and liberal amounts of clotted cream. At the Grand Cafe they put a few strawberries on top, and it is all so pretty and delicious, you could die from over-stimulation. The scones may or may not have raisins, but its not like I would complain either way. The scones are just the right size so you can eat two of them and not look outrageously fat in the attempt. My motto with cream tea is, "let no clotted cream go to waste."


High Tea: this is the only kind I haven't tried yet, mostly because it would be obscene to order and entire high tea for yourself. High tea comes with everything in the cream tea, with an extra tier of finger sandwiches and mini little pastry type things. This one is really a meal. I've never had it, but I've seen it a few tables over before. Basically to die for.

Unlike Americans, the British take their time in cafes. They might expect you to sit with your cream tea for over an hour. They were confused when I asked for my bill after sitting there for 30 minutes after I had finished my scones. People sit and talk to each other for a long time, they're in no hurry, its really nice. Old professor types sit by themselves in the corner with the remains of a piece of cheesecake in front of them and a newspaper spread all over the place. Tea is my favorite part of the weekend. I keep thinking how it would be nice if I had my Oles there to play bannagrams, but perhaps the British would frown upon that.  Last week I was walking back from the Queen's Coffeehouse at twilight (good hot scones, bad tea presentation) and I had the most terrifying adventure when I tried to take a shortcut.... but that will have to wait, I have to go get all dolled up before I go out (ie  the ladies next door and their makeup cases insist on having their way with me). Cheers!