BARCELONA, Spain — “Under certain circumstances there are few hours in life more agreeable than the hour dedicated to the ceremony known as afternoon tea.” So begins Henry James’ masterpiece “The Portrait of a Lady.” While James penned that sentiment in 1880, many would agree today. I’m one of them. And so is my mother.
For Mother’s Day, then, instead of taking her out to brunch, I like to prepare a variety of sweet and savory nibbles to accompany a pot of fine tea. In my case, that comes with a challenge. She lives north of Seattle; I live in Barcelona.
I have lived abroad for nearly 25 years, and holidays and birthdays celebrated with my parents rarely fall on their actual day. We see each other a couple of times a year, including when they come to Spain for a long visit around Easter. Before they return home, we celebrate an early Mother’s Day.
Anna Maria Russell (1783-1857), the Duchess of Bedford and a companion to Queen Victoria, is credited with originating the tradition of afternoon tea in Britain. In the early 19th century, she began having a little pick-me-up to bridge the gap between the then-standard two meals a day, breakfast and dinner. At first private, the light snack developed into a social event, as she invited other ladies to join her for a pot of tea, cakes and a stroll around the generous grounds of Woburn Abbey.
The tradition soon moved to other fashionable drawing rooms and then to teahouses, hotel dining rooms and lawns of country houses. It was particularly cherished by women; men, after all, had their clubs. When the luxurious Langham Hotel opened on London’s Regent Street in 1865 and began offering afternoon tea in its dazzling Palm Court, ladies had a place where they could go out together in public without risking society’s moralizing gossip.
Today, from Los Angeles to New Delhi and Tokyo, traditional afternoon tea remains largely the province of posh hotels. Set menus include a variety of sweet pastries, cakes and savory sandwiches — cucumber, cress and smoked salmon are three favorites — trimmed of their crusts and cut into rectangular fingers. In London, sumptuous afternoon teas remain a genteel pleasure, with hotels such as the Savoy, Dorchester, Lanesborough and Ritz — five sittings a day, booked months in advance, jacket and tie required for gentlemen — all vying to offer the most splendid tiered trays of gastronomic indulgences. Specially trained tea sommeliers often are on hand to help clients navigate loose-leaf options that have come to rival wine lists.
First, the tea
While these can be magnificent, privileged events, afternoon tea — when prepared at home in the spirit of Anna Maria Russell — can be at the other end of the spectrum: personal, relaxed, providing an unmatched feeling of intimacy. Once my daughters have gone off to play or read, and talk of school, volleyball and dance class has faded, I brew a second pot of tea. Mom and I linger at the table, and conversation generally turns to shared memories, a string of “remember when” of past trips we have taken together: the time I took her to Paris for a long weekend, say, or some years ago when the two of us spent six weeks in Nepal to trek Annapurna, staying in simple teahouses along the route.
My mom is a tea drinker rather than a coffee drinker. That’s opportune because tea, as the name indicates, is at the center of the ritual. From selecting appropriate blends to preparing them properly, close attention needs to be paid to the drink itself. Mom likes hers black, unsweetened and not too strong.
Having just written a book on Darjeeling and its celebrated tea, I have picked up many teas on my trips to that Himalayan region in northeast India that perfectly suit her tastes: subtle teas, with clear, metallic brightness, fragrant aromas and natural flavors that hint of muscatel grapes, peaches and nutty floralness. Steeping time for Darjeeling teas is just two to three minutes, and they are drunk without milk, sugar or lemon, additions that would cloak their delicate and unique flavors.
I have come around to drinking tea the way Mom does, sharing her preference for finer and more nuanced brews that have poise over bounce, patience over velocity. For many years, though, I sustained myself on tea of a very different style: strong, generally milky, invariably sweet, preferably spiced. I always keep in my kitchen cabinet some brisk and full-bodied tea from Assam for preparing sweet and milky masala chai when the craving returns. Baroquely spiced with ginger, cardamom, cloves, nutmeg and black peppercorns, the tea has brash flavors that catch the back of the throat and linger on the palate.
Jeff Koehler is the author of the upcoming “Darjeeling: The Colorful History and Precarious Fate of the World’s Greatest Tea”
Indian Masala chai
2green cardamom pods
2whole cloves
3whole black peppercorns
1-inch piece cinnamon stick
Thumb-size (1-inch) piece peeled fresh ginger root
1cup whole milk
1cup water
11/2 to 2tablespoons sugar
Pinch freshly grated nutmeg
1tablespoon loose, strong black tea (may substitute the contents of 1 to 2 tea bags strong black tea)
The choice of spices here is largely personal. For author Jeff Koehler, the additions of cardamom and fresh ginger are musts.
For the tea leaves, instead of the fine and subtle leaves of an orthodox-style tea such as Darjeeling, use stronger and more common ones produced using a method called CTC (“cut, tear, curl”), which may be mentioned on the packaging.
Combine the cardamom, cloves, peppercorns and cinnamon stick in a mortar; crush with a pestle to a coarse consistency. Transfer to a heavy-bottomed saucepan.
Place the ginger in the mortar. Strike it a few times with the pestle, then transfer to the saucepan.
Add the milk and 1 cup of water to the pan. Bring to a boil over medium-high heat. Watching it carefully to make sure it doesn’t overflow the pan, allow the mixture to foam up, then reduce the heat to low. Once the foam has settled, stir in 11/2 tablespoons of the sugar, the nutmeg and tea. Cook for 5 minutes or a bit longer, depending on the desired strength of the tea, stirring occasionally and watching that it doesn’t boil over.
Taste for sweetness; add some or all of the remaining sugar as needed.
Strain into 2 tea glasses. Serve scalding hot.
Makes 2 servings
Creating a perfect cup
The perfect cup of Darjeeling is simple but exacting to prepare:
Spoon 1 level teaspoon of good-quality loose-leaf Darjeeling tea into a small, warmed teapot.
Pour over freshly boiled water that has been allowed to cool for a minute or two.
Steep for 3 minutes.
Drink without milk, sugar or lemon, which would cloak the tea’s unique and delicate flavors.
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