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On 12 Jan 2004 05:23:34 -0800, (Dieter Folz) wrote:

>Well, it seems, that this is e.g. the tea, described in some books
>(Ishiguro or also in the Sherlock Holmes Stories -- ok, maybe less
>'posh' at all).

Sherlock Holmes was a long time ago, Ishiguro not much less. I'd also
point out that both described tea made by servants for their employer.
Perhaps less formally so for Mrs. Hudson, but it's still not the
self-serving laziness that leads to the "bag in the mug" approach.

OK, you've had the joke. Now the serious response.

There was a time when English tea was brewed in The Proper Way.
Everyone knew the rules, most people stuck to them.

The utensils began with a kettle and a teapot. Kettles were electric
and powerful, for a very long time (an innovation which has yet to
reach America). The mid-century kitchen contained an electric cooker,
an electric kettle and perhaps an electric fridge. The fridge was
wired in through a typical house socket of varying capacity and a
steam iron might have to borrow a light socket, but the kettle would
have its own high-current socket supplied directly from the cooker
supply.

Water came from the tap, but it was freshly drawn.

Teapots were the heavy earthenware spheroids we still see as the
Yorkshire "brown betty". Although glazed on the inside, it wasn't
regarded as properly ready for use until coated with a thick layer of
tannins. It would be regularly cleaned by "scalding" out with boiling
water, but never scrubbed.

Whilst boiling, the teapot would be warmed with a little water from
the kettle.

The the tea would be measured in. Tea was stored in a caddy, a rather
reduced artefact compared to its Bramah-locked Victorian splendour,
but still a utensil of some status in the kitchen. If Disney's "Beauty
and the Beast" had been made in England, Mrs. Pott's consort would
have been the tea caddy (probably echoing something of Anthony
Hopkins' role in Ishiguro). The variety was of the household's regular
blend. With one caddy, there was one blend of tea. What could be
simpler ? English tea (of its mass acceptance) was always blended, but
Assams figured highly. The English cook was as likely to select it for
the grocer's brand as they were for some far-off geography. The tea
itself would be measured with a tea-spoon or caddy-spoon. Not the slim
stirrer of the serving tray, this is a near-circular shallow measuring
spoon. Frequently they'd be decorated with a thistle as a handle
(Scottish themes were always popular in England, so long as they
didn't involve actual Scots) or some other enamelled gewgaw as a
momento of some early-wedded holiday in Aberystwyth.

There was one golden rule for tea measuring; one per cup, and one for
the pot. If poverty tightened your caddy, then you used a smaller
spoon - but there was always one for the pot.

Whilst still boiling, the tea would be "wetted" from the kettle and
the teapot placed on the table. Most kitchens would have some form of
pot stand - once Victorian cast iron, these later became another
manifestation of the English passion for twee holiday souvenirs -
often a printed ceramic tile, set in a metal holder.

Most well-dressed teapots would also wear a tea-cosy, always knitted
by someone's granny. The purpose of the cosy is not for its insulating
properties, but to make the lid hard to remove and thus keep the
impatient menfolk from poking at it with a spoon.

Whilst the tea was brewing, the cups would be laid out. Teacups _and_
saucers, I'll have you know. Not using a saucer is only one step from
the workhouse (*).

Milk would be poured in a round, whilst brewing. Milk jugs are
essential, even in the days of glass bottles. When the first American
films and sit-coms appeared on TV, I was literally amazed to see milk
cartoons publically displayed on the breakfast table. Even that nice
Alan Alda, who even my Mother liked, ate his breakfast with
_a_milk_carton_ in the room ! For some reason, the English middle
classes are ashamed of milk, or at least the industrial parts of its
obtaining. We'll go to insane lengths (see Wodehouse's "The Code of
the Woosters") to obtain that ridiculous device, the "cow creamer",
yet we'll live the lie that there are neither shops nor dairies
involved in supplying our daily milk. Presumably we all keep a cow in
the scullery and milk her directly into the milk jug.

Shortly before the tea was brewed, Father would attempt to pour a cup.
This was simply repressed impatience at having been foiled in his
stirring attempts by the impenetrable tea-cosy. A wrist would be
slapped and the usual fussing made. The precise shade of the tea at
this point is best described by the traditional term of "peely-wally".

No one, outside of an Ealing Comedy, has ever asked "Shall I be
Mother?" before pouring. Tea is poured by She Who Made It, or else
there will be repercussions. If there is an order to pouring, then
I'm afraid I missed it in my ethology.

Strainers are rarely used, only when indulging in posh tea. After all,
how would one read other's fortunes without the leaves ?

I understand that in Georgian times, polite society allowed tea to be
sipped from the saucer. By the mid-20th century this was still
practiced, but only by the uncouth. Toothless crones might even do it
into the '70s, even practicing such bizarre habits as mixing it with
Epsom salts or Andrews liver salts. Now it's just a term of disdain
for in-laws who are rustic farmers.

After drinking the first cup, the pot is frequently topped up. However
an empty pot is _never_ refilled, once emptied. The tea remains quite
drinkable by this technique, the pot retains heat and the unstirred
leaves sit at the bottom of the pot and don't brew enough to become
bitter.

An over-aged pot is described as "stewed". Traditionally stewing is
determined by the precise moment at which tardy men return from the
mill, foundry or pit bottom, too late for the tea which was announced
hours ago (7.5 minutes is the usual metric equivalent unit to the
"hours").

Pre-war, and possibly into the '50s, cold tea was taken from the
breakfast pot and poured into a whisky bottle (conveniently flat) for
consumption cold at lunchtime. Whether it was drunk with or without
milk in this state seems to be a regional variation, but it would
always have been sweetened. The great social historian Orwell
describes the use of jam as a cheaper sweetener.

(*) The teacup and saucer is now extinct, surviving only as a
ceremonial fetish in the ritualistic Posh Tea. I date its demise to
the rise of instant c*ff*e in the '70s, and the warm immediacy of the
mug.

--
Socialism: Eric, not Tony