Mom and the art of the tea ceremony

Published May 9, 2015

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Barcelona - “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 savoury 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 moralising 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 savoury sandwiches - cucumber, cress and smoked salmon are three favourites - 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 centre 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 flavours 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 flavours.

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 flavours that catch the back of the throat and linger on the palate.

 

Then, the treats

The real star attraction of what James properly referred to as a “little feast,” though, is the selection of culinary treats that orbit around the teapot.

As in each home, the dishes that top our table reflect our life: a spongy Spanish bizcocho cake made with yogurt and olive oil (rather than milk and butter); Catalan marzipan coconut cookies that my daughters love to form into pyramids and bake; scones with clotted cream and jam that recall London, where my wife and I met in a residence hall for foreign postgraduate students; a classic apfelkuchen (although usually done with plums) from my German godmother that she copied out for my mother on a recipe card in 1969.

Savoury options hold equal importance. Classic cucumber sandwiches can be dainty, soggy and frankly unappetising. But when they are fresh, and done properly - cucumbers cut into transparent slices and lightly salted first to draw out flavours; thin, evenly spread butter on the bread - there is nothing better to accompany the subtlety of Darjeeling tea. I like to serve these alongside a simple but sublime sandwich I learned from a Darjeeling tea planter that's prepared with shredded chicken, mayonnaise and fresh mint.

Over afternoon tea one wet monsoon July day in Darjeeling while working on the book, I discovered how perfectly masala chai goes with hot onion pakoras: lacy, deep-fried fritters made with a batter of chickpea flour, black onion seeds, fresh cilantro and some eye-watering green chilies, and served with sweet tomato dipping sauce. Another hot favourite - these from frequent trips to Morocco - is phyllo triangles called briouats, stuffed with fresh cheese and herbs and, once fried golden and crispy, brushed with honey.

This year, my mom is coming a bit later than usual in order to see my younger daughter perform in her dance academy's biennial show and the older one play in an international volleyball tournament. Mother's Day, then, will be celebrated a few weeks late. That means fresh figs will be arriving in the market, and I will put out a tray of those with some hand-cut slices of the finest cured Spanish ham, jamon Iberico. A true treat.

There is always leftover cake, and thick slices go perfectly with morning coffee. That suits my father, who is a coffee - not tea - drinker. It's just as well, because this year, Mother's Day in our home will fall precariously close to Father's Day.

 

Pour, steep, sip: 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 flavours.

 

Indian Masala Chai

2 servings

The choice of spices here is largely personal. For me, 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.

 

Ingredients

2 green cardamom pods

2 whole cloves

3 whole black peppercorns

2.5cm (1-inch) piece cinnamon stick

Thumb-size piece peeled fresh ginger root

1 cup whole milk

1 cup water

1 1/2 to 2 tablespoons sugar

Pinch freshly grated nutmeg

1 tablespoon loose, strong black tea (may substitute the contents of 1 to 2 tea bags strong black tea)

Steps

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 1 1/2 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.

Nutrition Per serving: 110 calories, 4 g protein, 15 g carbohydrates, 4 g fat, 3 g saturated fat, 10 mg cholesterol, 55 mg sodium, 0 g dietary fiber, 16 g sugar

 

Catalan Marzipan Cookies With Coconut (Panellets de Coco)

30 cookies

This variety of traditional Catalan panellets is delightfully chewy and rather easy to make - and perfect for getting kids to help form the shapes. (It doesn't matter whether the pyramids are perfect or exactly identical.) In addition to being gluten-free, the cookies are dairy-free.

There are just a few key ingredients: ground almonds, sugar, grated coconut and, surprising to all but Catalans, boiled potato. The last binds the ingredients into a pliable dough and adds a little creaminess to the texture.

We ground the almonds in a food processor.

MAKE AHEAD: The dough needs to be refrigerated for 30 minutes. The cookies can be stored in an airtight container for up to 5 days.

 

Ingredients

1 medium potato (6 ounces or 170g total, unpeeled), scrubbed

9 ounces (2 cups or 255g) slivered almonds, finely ground

1 cup sugar

1 cup loosely packed grated unsweetened coconut, plus more for coating

1 large egg

Steps

Fill a saucepan with water; bring it to a boil over medium-high heat. Add the potato and reduce the heat to medium; cook for 25 to 30 minutes, until tender. Remove with a slotted spoon and drain. When cool enough to handle, discard the skin. Transfer the potato to a mixing bowl, mash with the back of a fork and let cool.

Add the ground almonds and sugar to the bowl. Gently work the mixture with your hands until it holds together. At first it will feel dry and crumbly, but it will gradually moisten as you handle the dough. Work in the 1 cup of coconut. (The coconut should be about half of the volume of the dough.) Cover and refrigerate for 30 minutes to chill the dough and make forming the cookies easier.

Preheat the oven to 350 degrees (175degC). Line one or two baking sheets with parchment paper or silicone liners.

Separate the egg, placing the white in one bowl and the yolk in another; blend each with a fork. Place the remaining coconut in a separate shallow bowl.

Form the dough into 1 1/4-to-11/2-inch-tall (about 3 to 4cm) pyramids or cones. Brush each with egg white, then gently roll in the coconut to cover. Space the cookies at least 1/2 inch (about 1.2cm) apart on the baking sheets. Brush the top tips of the pyramids (or the ends of the cones) with the egg yolk.

Bake the cookies one sheet at a time until lightly browned, 16 to 17 minutes. Transfer to a wire rack to cool completely before serving or storing.

Nutrition Per cookie: 110 calories, 2 g protein, 11 g carbohydrates, 7 g fat, 3 g saturated fat, 0 mg cholesterol, 0 mg sodium, 2 g dietary fiber, 7 g sugar

 

Cucumber Sandwiches

4 to 6 servings (makes 12 finger sandwiches)

When done well, nothing makes a better companion for an afternoon cup of Darjeeling tea than crustless cucumber sandwiches.

Spreading the butter evenly but not thickly is key, as it makes a sealing layer to keep bread from getting moist. Prepare only at the last moment, so that both bread and filling are at their freshest.

It's helpful to use a mandoline so you can slice the cucumber as thin as possible.

 

Ingredients

1/2 slender seedless (English or hothouse) cucumber (about 5 ounces, or 140g)

Salt

8 thin slices fresh white bread or brown bread, or a combination

Salted butter, at room temperature

Steps

Slice the cucumber crosswise as thinly as possibly, ideally with a mandoline. Place the slices in a colander, sprinkle them lightly with salt and toss gently to distribute the salt. Let the cucumbers sit for 15 minutes (to draw out the moisture and bring out their flavour). Transfer the slices to paper towels and pat them dry.

Lay out 4 slices of the bread. Spread one side of each slice with a thin, even coat of butter from crust to crust. Arrange the cucumber slices on each buttered slice, overlapping in 2 or 3 layers, to taste. (You might not use all the cucumber slices.)

Butter one side of the remaining 4 slices of bread with a thin, even coat from crust to crust. Place them buttered side down over the layered cucumber slices to make 4 sandwiches.

Gently hold the bread in place with one hand and use a serrated knife to trim off the crusts. Cut each sandwich into three equal rectangles. Arrange them neatly on a platter; serve right away.

Ingredients are too variable for a meaningful analysis.

Washington Post

* Koehler is the author of the upcoming Darjeeling: The Colourful History And Precarious Fate Of TWorld's Greatest Tea (Bloomsbury).

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