Books, Arts & Manners: Teas of Yesteryear

Friends, let me tell you that, when it comes to tea, the class system in England is as alive and well as it was in the days of Edward VII, eighty years ago. If you are truly upper class, you pour your tea into your cup before adding milk. (The Brits like their tea with milk; cream, lemon, and even sugar have never been popular in Engl land.) The lower classes, on the other hand, put their milk and sugar, if any, into their cups first, and add the tea next. (For the life of me, I have never figured out how you can tell how much milk to add to your tea if you don’t see the color of the tea first.)

Teashops no longer exist in London, to the sorrow of those in search of non-alcoholic refreshments. Servants too have vanished from the English scene, and with them a very civilized tradition—early-morning tea. In the days before cradle-to-grave socialism and its attendant egalitarianism, one was awakened by a housemaid tiptoeing into one’s bedroom and depositing on the bedside table a small tray with a small teapot, a little milk, a cup, and a plate with a slice of bread and butter or two crackers. The housemaid would also pull back the curtains and in cold weather lay a fire in the fireplace; if the weather was not nice, the maid would even light the fire for you. The joy of such awakenings! By and by one gathered enough strength to face an enormous breakfast downstairs a couple of hours later. However, I am happy to report that today, in houses where the host gets up early, he will himself bring a cup of tea to your bedside, though he won’t draw the curtains or lay a fire.

NH

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Nika Hazelton

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Friends, let me tell you that, when it comes to tea, the class system in England is as alive and well as it was in the days of Edward VII, eighty years ago. If you are truly upper class, you pour your tea into your cup before adding milk. (The Brits like their tea with milk; cream, lemon, and even sugar have never been popular in Engl land.) The lower classes, on the other hand, put their milk and sugar, if any, into their cups first, and add the tea next. (For the life of me, I have never figured out how you can tell how much milk to add to your tea if you don’t see the color of the tea first.)

Teashops no longer exist in London, to the sorrow of those in search of non-alcoholic refreshments. Servants too have vanished from the English scene, and with them a very civilized tradition—early-morning tea. In the days before cradle-to-grave socialism and its attendant egalitarianism, one was awakened by a housemaid tiptoeing into one’s bedroom and depositing on the bedside table a small tray with a small teapot, a little milk, a cup, and a plate with a slice of bread and butter or two crackers. The housemaid would also pull back the curtains and in cold weather lay a fire in the fireplace; if the weather was not nice, the maid would even light the fire for you. The joy of such awakenings! By and by one gathered enough strength to face an enormous breakfast downstairs a couple of hours later. However, I am happy to report that today, in houses where the host gets up early, he will himself bring a cup of tea to your bedside, though he won’t draw the curtains or lay a fire.