The Duchess of Bedford was hungry. It had been hours aback the lady-in-waiting to Queen Victoria had eaten breakfast at Belvoir Castle, and banquet — as consistently — would be served at 8. What was a dog-hungry abettor to do? She alleged for tea and a ablaze feast to be served in her chambers, and the constant English custom of afternoon tea anon became the rage.
What could be added absolute for the adventurer than a adequate abeyance (anytime from 11:30 a.m. until 7:30 p.m., depending on the tea salon) with abundant sandwiches, scones and pastries to acting for cafeteria or dinner?
During a contempo two weeks in London, I was by myself; tea for one aloof hit the spot. I aloof months advanced and wove afternoon teas through my break as a award of advantageously airy interludes.
Once again, I was reminded that it’s accurate that you get what you pay for. Although every one of my teas was superb, some were alike added so, and the best big-ticket ones were at the top. Generally, afternoon tea at a admirable abode like Kensington Palace’s Orangery will amount abutting to $40, and the actual best will amount about alert that.
My admired was, indeed, amid the best expensive, at about $79. The Foyer at Claridge’s has been hosting afternoon tea for 150 years, and absolutely has it perfected.
The high-ceilinged bistro is all comfortable and bright in its signature Claridge’s sea-green and white, from the admirable carpeting and striped ceramics to the adequate adipose tub chairs and pillows. A alluringly sculptured, askance and askance bottle chandelier hangs over the aerial centerpiece of blooming and white flowers.
The pianist and cellist were arena “Cheek to Cheek” as I was ushered to a round, white-clothed table with a boutonniere in the center. My waiter, in a crisp, white anorak and Claridge’s blooming bow tie, presented the airheaded of teas and delectables with a flourish.
“Let me acquaint you how we accomplish the absolute cup,” he said, and assured me that he would acknowledgment with a additional cup if I absitively to about-face from Assam. I acclimatized in to people-watch. As the piano and cello played on, I surveyed couples of several vintages: a accumulation of affected women in hijabs, a mother and adolescent babe with a big bow in her hair.
Perfect little tea sandwiches came quickly, lined up like crop rows — as they were at anniversary of the tea spots I tried. Claridge’s adaptation of the accepted sandwich varieties are the best. Their Cotswold buzz chicken, layered with asparagus and avocado in crème fraîche on rye, and the Scottish salmon, with dill and bedrock samphire mayonnaise on malt bread, are superb.
I approved to clip myself, alive from acquaintance — this was the fifth of the eight afternoon teas during my break — that the scones and pastries were still ahead. By now, the duo’s music and the tea I had called had me in dreamland.
As with about all of the tea spots, Claridge’s serves apparent and raisin scones with clotted chrism and jam (including its abstruse compound for Marco Polo gelee, a aberration on birthmark jam). Many places additionally action auto curd. All you can eat — if you dare.
Although my aide never chock-full aggravating to argue me to about-face teas, he kept bringing beginning pots of Assam. Like the added high-end spots I tried, Claridge’s tea card recommends altered varieties for altered dishes, like wine pairings.
The piano and cello were on to “Tea for Two” and I was biconcave aback into my comfortable chair, admiring the scene.
Nearby, on one side, was a accumulation of six Americans talking politics. On the other, three women speaking Arabic. All actual hushed. Not a arrant complete to be heard. Gorgeous.
I rallied as my aide presented a bowl of pastries that included the lightest birthmark chrism acerb with tiny streusel crumbles, the lightest lime-cream macaroon and the lightest amber chrism with caramel on a brittle bottom. And finally, I took his admonition to try an beverage to accompany the desserts and enjoyed a ablaze auto grass herbal tea.
It was 6:30 p.m., and the lights dimmed as a bass took the cello’s abode for “There Will Never Be Addition You.” There could never be addition tea like this one, for sure.
None of the afternoon tea spots rushed me. I spent an hour and a bisected to two hours at each. And the hosts and waiters didn’t bat an beard about giving a onesome a nice branch from which to flavor the experience.
Here are some aerial credibility of the added afternoon teas during my two-week survey.
Overall runner-up: The Savoy Hotel, area the scones are chiefly bendable and doughy, bigger than Claridge’s, and the ambience gorgeous, with its 1904 bottle cupola.
Best for an intimate, quiet setting: Brown’s Hotel, area the bistro is oak-paneled and low-ceilinged. Top hint: a fromage blanc adhesive and amber tart.
Best if you adopt beautiful dress and a austere men’s dress code: The Ritz Hotel, the alone one I visited that is still acute a covering and tie for men.
Best for a view: Aqua Shard, on the 31st attic of Britain’s tallest skyscraper, area the glass-walled restaurant is contemporary, you can see for afar up and bottomward the Thames and the aliment is great.
Best for a world-class, all-embracing alternative of teas: The Diamond Jubilee Tea Salon at Fortnum & Mason, grocer to the queen.
Best for quicker, below big-ticket teas (three-way tie): The Wolseley, which seems to host added London ladies for tea; the Orangery at Kensington Palace, noisier, with slate floors and area kids assume added commonplace; the Portrait, aloft the National Portrait Gallery, acceptable at Trafalgar Square.
Nathan is a biographer based in the District.
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