Afternoon Tea

Afternoon tea is one of those truly English occasions, so uniquely British that it can’t possibly be experienced anywhere else. But to be fair, the first time I had afternoon tea I was a young girl in the exquisite tearoom of the Chateau Laurier hotel in Ottawa. But since it was in Canada, I don’t think it counts. No offense, Mom.
Since I moved over here at the end of 2009 I have had four afternoon tea experiences, each one quite different from the last. But before I get into that, I should probably explain what afternoon tea (or high tea) is all about.
Britain clearly has a long history of drinking tea. The custom did originate in England, but it is said to have been brought over from Portugal by Catherine of Bragança when she married Charles II in 1661.
Afternoon tea is served with a variety of sandwiches, customarily cucumber, egg and cress, fish paste, ham and smoked salmon, and scones, with clotted cream and jam, and usually cakes and pastries. When you have it at a teashop or a hotel, it is traditionally served on a tiered stand.
The credit for the transformation of afternoon tea into a late-afternoon meal is credited to Anna Maria Russell, the 7th Duchess of Bedford, while she was living in Woburn Abbey. In the early 19th century it was customary to only take two meals a day, the latter of which took place around 8pm. The Duchess is said to have complained of a “sinking feeling” in the late afternoon brought on by hunger. Her solution was to take a pot of tea and a light snack. She began to invite friends to join and other social hostesses caught on to the trend. It became a regular activity for the upper classes around 4pm before they took their promenade through Hyde Park.
The term "high tea" was used as a way to distinguish it from “low tea” or afternoon tea. The lower classes adapted the custom as a form of dinner, which is why many Brits today still call their dinner “tea’. The words "high" and "low", however, don’t refer to the social classes, but the tables from which either tea meal was eaten. Low tea was served in a sitting room where low tables, like a coffee table, were placed near sofas or chairs. The word high referred to a dinner table, and it would be loaded with substantial dishes like meats, cheeses and breads.
Today, the high tea and low tea versions have all merged into one. And for the tourists, it is a great afternoon activity.
My very first high tea was in July last year at Cannazaro House in Wimbledon with Lauren, Danni, Nat, Liz and Jenn F-H. It was truly decadent with treats like chocolate éclairs, macaroons and fruit tarts piled on tiered dishes. Of course, there was also the high tea staple of scones, clotted cream and jam. We drank tea – of course – and then washed it all down with some pitchers of Pimm’s.
My next one was at the end of August at a posh London hotel, the Langham in Soho. It was part of a bridal show (both Jenny and Sarah had recently gotten engaged) so it was absolutely gorgeous, decked out to resemble a wedding reception. The tables were draped in white clothes, sparkling chandeliers hung from the ceiling, the dishes were certified china, and then there was the eats. Vanilla custard came first, then the traditional finger sandwiches, followed by non-stop desserts like warm baby scones, shortbread lollies and pink-topped fairy cakes (cupcakes). We ate and ate and ate, and sipped more and more tea into the late afternoon.
For my third high tea I took Paul, who was en route back to Toronto from his year in Paris, to the Aubrey Restaurant at the Kensington Hotel. It was a Christmas-themed tea since it was December. So the sandwich options included a festive selection, like turkey and cranberry sauce, while the cakes and pastries included little mince pies. The standard scone spread was different too, with choices of strawberry jam, clotted cream and lime custard.
My next high tea was this past weekend at the Cadogan Hotel where Lauren had organized a surprise bridal shower for our friend Liz, who is getting married in Chicago in early June. We had our own little area of couches around low tables which Lauren decked out with some wedding-inspired bits. The bride-to-be was dropped off by the groom-to-be, and she was genuinely surprised. Then we ordered our pots of tea and toasted Liz with teaming glasses of champagne. It was a lovely afternoon, with the usual finger sandwiches, scones and cream, and then some fruit tarts, chocolate-dipped strawberries and raspberry mousse.
While I live over here I hope to add more afternoon teas to this already notable list of experiences. If I can afford it, I would love to try the Ritz, the Savoy or Claridge’s. I’ve got some Canadian visitors streaming through in April and May, so I’m sure I will get a chance to do it again soon.

Cotswold Cottage Weekend

Although I can’t complain about weekend trips around Europe, I am especially keen to stay close to home and get to know England while I am living here. Last spring, as I recounted in a past blog, I headed down to Cornwall for a cottage weekend with some girlfriends.

I have been to a few other counties over the last 20 months, mostly the ‘shires like Oxfordshire, Yorkshire and Hampshire. This past weekend I headed out to Gloucestershire, and the world famous Cotswold’s, for our second annual girls’ cottage weekend.

The Cotswold’s are a range of hills in west-central England also known as the Heart of England. The name apparently translates as “sheep enclosure in rolling hillsides”, incorporating “wold” which means hills. The area is characterized by adorable towns and villages built of the underlying Cotswold stone, a yellow limestone.

Our little cottage was in Stow-on-the-Wold, a market town on the top of an 800-foot hill. It was built of the typical stone and located around the corner from the oldest inn in England, dating back to 974 AD, but its inside was newly renovated and very modern.

It was the perfect base for eight expats (six Canadians, an American and an Aussie) to explore the rustic surroundings but also return to a home with cozy beds, a roaring fireplace and full kitchen. We ate well, we drank well, and we walked for miles and miles through rolling green countryside spotted sporadically with stone villages.

After a post-work train ride from London, equipped with snacks and bottles of vino, we arrived in the Cotswold’s for a relaxing evening in our weekend home. We woke the next morning to the sound of pounding rain on the stone roof and our hopes for a lovely hiking day were temporarily dashed. But after breakfast the rain stopped, the sky cleared and the wellies were no longer necessary.

We set out from Stow-on-the-Wold, following a public footpath through fields of undulating rain-kissed hills, pastures of horse, cow and chicken, and eventually followed the River Windrush into Bourton-on-the-Water. The picturesque town, often known as the Venice of England, was the perfect spot to end our hike and enjoy a pint of local bitter with some fish and chips.

We were shattered from the trek, filled up with beer and battered fish, so after exploring some shops we took a rest in the grass along the river. Too tired to duplicate our hike, we caught the local bus back to our little village.

After some hot showers and baths, couch lounging and food prep, we lit another roaring fire, opened a few more bottles of wine, and tackled a spread of cheese, crackers, meats and olives. Dinner was Mexican – fajitas, homemade guacamole, the works. The eating just went on and on.

The night spun into more bottles of wine and a spontaneous dance party that somehow ended up including costumes. It was a fun ladies’ night, the perfect one after our gorgeous day outside.

With Sunday we knew that only a few hours separated us from our train journey back to the chaos of London. So we went for a local hike and wandered around the village, then stopped at a tearoom for lunch (I had a Welsh rarebit, cheese and Worcestershire sauce on toast) and cream tea (accompanied by fresh scone, jam and clotted cream).

There was a lot of eating and drinking this weekend, but a lot of exercise as well. Not sure if we quite made that perfect balance, but I wouldn’t trade a second of it for anything.