High Tea

The first time I experienced, the very English Afternoon Tea ritual was in Hong Kong, just about two years ago. Minky and I were seeking refuge from the humidity after a day of shopping and wondering around the island. We stumbled across Harvey Nics, with its very own Fifth Floor restaurant. At that time I was frequenting the London version a lot and figured it would be a good option for the well needed rest. Mid afternoon, like most HK western style establishments (I was to discover later), they served Tea. While in London it is something you need to plan and book well in advance, in the Far East former colony you just wonder in and the warm scones follow. What happened next for Minky and I, is a memory we will still be laughing about in the old age home. It involved a usually well-composed lady (me), accidentally dropping a mini chicken-mushroom pie in my latte (why was I drinking a latte and not tea? small detail), splashing it all over the pristine white tablecloth, both of us laughing with tears streaming down our faces, much to the entertainment and/or dismay of fellow diners. The full story is much better told in person with both of us there.

Shortly after I gave it another try. For Mum's birthday - Mum, me and Gran went to Cliveden House, which serves the coveted mid-afternoon meal in what Gran called 'hunting lodge surrounds'. It was a nice way to spend a winter's afternoon in the country, but we hadn't been eager to go again.

This week as the male to female ratio in our house went to an all time high - with my brother's girlfriend it will stand at 4 to 2 during the holidays - a quick gaze at The Ritz website we had a booking. In London a lot of hotels put their best pastry chefs and superior tea selections forward when it comes to Afternoon Tea, but the most famous is that of The Ritz. Now that I have one foot firmly in New York, I definitely feel the need to do some things, which before I would have dismissed as simply touristy. (I climbed the Sydney Harbour Bridge in January, which I would have never done had I still been living there).

The drive to Piccadilly was almost as exciting as the tea itself. Harrods was lit up and festive, and there was (fake) snow falling on the Brompton Road. Confusion all round as traffic was slowing down to witness the 'miracle'. I have been to The Ritz for drinks before and did not rate its formality and clientele, but tonight it all fell into place. The primed ladies and distinguished gentlemen, giggling tourists, well tuned out staff at every step, the string quartet. Seated in the opulent Palm Court after a glass of champagne, the selection of teas was expertly served, the finger sandwiches kept coming, the scones (always main event for me) were warm, and the cakes divine. Half way through Gran turned to me and excitedly noted - "What a fantastic way to spend an afternoon ... I think this is much better than the previous place (Cliveden)..."