Centuries before our ancestors decided to toss a few tea bags into Boston Harbor, ale was Britain’s national drink. From breakfast through bedtime, the bubbly brew was safer than foul drinking water. When their king married a Spanish princess, she brought her country’s access to the Asian tea-growing world. Fortunes were made.
The tea-drinking princess also started a custom that continues to this day. Royals, and anyone who wanted to be part of the “in” crowd, began drinking tea. (Brewing the leaves worked just as well at making drinking water safe as did brewing grains.) The habit filtered to everyday folk, further enriching tea investors. That is until they lost that huge shipment in 1773.
After that, this entire continent switched to coffee, eventually fostering Dunkin’ Donuts (and Ben Affleck), Starbucks (and the rebirth of unions). I never much liked tea, and especially enjoyed the Ted Lasso jokes and spit takes at its expense.
On a more civilized note, the practice of tea is a fantasy of flowery dresses and colorful cupcakes, usually the purview of little girls’ birthday parties, bridal showers and book clubs. That last, often when reading Jane Austen or Miss Marple mysteries. If any of those are on the agenda, it’s nice to note the following niceties.
Teatime occurs anywhere between 3 and 6 o’clock. It depends on the host and the venue: home, hotel, tearoom.
Many mistakenly believe that “high tea” is an elegant affair, but it is not what the name seems to imply. The only thing elevated here is the table. The meal actually features hearty servings of sliced cold meats, wedges of cheese, and breads, spreads and pickles — sometimes leftovers from a previous dinner — eaten at the (high) kitchen table. Considered workingman’s fare, and occasionally called “supper,” it has nothing to do with elegance, only with feeding a body at the end of a long day.
The elegant event is actually called “afternoon tea,” taken on a tea table (what we call a coffee table) set low in front of a sofa or chairs. There are three categories of afternoon tea depending on appetite and/or whether there’s dinner to be had later that evening. The first category is cream tea and is more a snack than a meal, including scones and Devonshire, or clotted cream, for slathering. Light tea, the second, adds tiny cupcakes, cookies and maybe some other sweet confections beside the teapot.
Full tea is the gold standard, the experience, a meal in miniature, often served on tiered towers. The drink itself arrives in an assortment, e.g., Earl Gray, oolong, etc., housed in a chest. There are tiny finger sandwiches plus a few “savories,” like bacon-wrapped dates or asparagus spears in puff pastry. Plus, all the same goodies of a light tea only more substantial( but still tiny) choices. Many hotels and tearooms, both here and in Europe, offer flutes of champagne or a glass of sherry.
Teatime etiquette can be baffling and is much looser than in the past, but it’s still fun to know the historical customs.
§ Hold a teacup with fingers on the front and back of the handle, not looped through it. A barely and rarely raised pinkie is meant to keep the cup balanced, not for style. (This might take some practice.) Never hold the bottom of the cup in the palm of the hand.
§ On BBC period dramas, characters may arch an eyebrow concerning the addition of milk. (Never cream!) Once, it was common practice to add milk to the cup before the tea was poured. This was to prevent the heated water from cracking the delicate porcelain, but modern teacups are made of sturdier stuff. So, pour the tea first, and flavor to taste with milk and/or sugar.
§ Stir the tea crosswise, not in circles, starting from 6 o’clock to noon. And, no clinking! Once used, the spoon sits on the saucer, not the tablecloth.
§ Some people like lemon in their tea. The lemon should be cut into very thin slices (wedges are for cocktails or seafood) and served prettily on a small plate with a tiny fork. As with milk, lemon slices go into the cup after the tea is poured.
§ The saucer is home base for the cup, never to be lifted or otherwise leave the table.
To host a tea party, it’s inadvisable to do all the work. Make sandwiches and/or savories at home. Head for a good bakery or confectioner — that pretty word seems right in this context — for the sweets. Unearth great-grandma’s teacups, saucers and silver teaspoons; starch and iron a tablecloth and napkins; and gather a few blooms from the garden or roses from the florist.
AFTERNOON TEA SANDWICHES:
To make elegant tea sandwiches, look for thin-sliced sandwich bread (Pepperidge Farm makes a good one). Cut off the crusts and cut into shapes — rounds, triangles and rectangles for eye appeal. Conjure up a variety of fillings. Suggestions here:
To make the three below, buy soft whipped cream cheese rather than blocks. Bring it to room temperature. It won’t tear bread when spreading. Fold any of these classics into the cream cheese.
§ Chopped stuffed olives
§ Golden raisins and chopped walnuts
§ Chopped candied ginger and walnuts
Heartier fillings, like the next three, will need a fine chop to match the delicate nature of the feast.
§ Devilled ham
§ Egg salad
§ Shrimp salad with dill
These last are often expected of a traditional tea party.
§ Thinly sliced smoked salmon draped over bread rounds, sprinkled with lemon zest
§ Thinly sliced cucumber between buttered rounds of bread. (A modern version combines the salmon and cucumber in one sandwich.)
I like to cover the plates of sandwiches with plastic wrap to keep them from drying out until serving time. I find the traditional draped damp towel technique only produces soggy sandwiches.
Pinkies up … but not too high!
Linda Bassett lived in Marblehead for years and has worked as a cook, trained up-and-coming chefs, studied food history and led food tours. Her book, “From Apple Pie to Pad Thai,” is about local cooks and cooking.
