Friday 17 July 2020

Tea and Cake

This article of mine appears in the Jerusalem Post Magazine dated 17 July 2020
          I write the following words with complete confidence: ask any Brit − immigrant or visitor − their biggest frustration in Israel, and 99 per cent will reply “You can’t find a proper cup of tea”.

          I may have become disillusioned over time, but I do not believe that there is one hotel, café, restaurant or coffee shop throughout the land that knows how to make tea. I can’t pretend to have tried them all, but in my experience a glass of tepid water flanked by a teabag is what one is invariably faced with. And that is a hundred miles from the real thing.

          To be fair, Israel is not the only offender. Much the same experience awaits the Brit in most of Europe. In America they seem to think that you add cream to the cup, as if it were some version of coffee.

          Now I am not claiming that there is unanimity across the British Isles about how exactly to produce the genuine article, but certain basic principles there undoubtedly are. I will shortly outline them, but first we can dispose of what was once an essential requirement − loose tea leaves. Even experts in the field now agree that they are no longer a sine qua non, as they were right up to the late 1950s, when they made up some 97 percent of the British market. Today they have been very nearly replaced by the teabag.

          One casualty of the change is the tea strainer, once an essential item on the tea table. The brewed tea would be poured into the cup through the strainer – a small device pierced with tiny holes.

          As for the fundamentals for making a proper cup of tea, there is no dispute about what you need, namely a teapot, a cup and saucer, a teaspoon, a milk jug and a sugar bowl for the decreasing minority who take sugar with their tea. If you visit a tearoom in any British tourist attraction, that is what arrives at the table, all piled on a tea tray.


          But two essential steps will already have been taken in the kitchen. First, the teapot will have been warmed and the teabags placed inside. Then, a kettle of water will have been boiled and, with the water still bubbling, it will have been poured over the tea. In short, you cannot make a proper cup of tea without using boiling water.

          The four or five minutes that will pass before the tray with the necessary items is placed before you are an essential part of the process. It will give time for the tea to “infuse” – that is, to release the delicate flavours locked into the dried leaves.

          Then comes the truly disputed moment in the process of making a British cup of tea. Half the nation will pour a certain amount of milk into the cup, and then add the tea to it; the other half will pour the tea into the cup before adding milk. Google the question, and you will find pages of argument. My preference is firmly for the latter process. I like a strong cup of tea, and the only way to guarantee it is the right colour and strength is to control how much milk is added. I may add that the Queen’s butler confirms that this is how Her Majesty takes her tea.

          The opposing faction are said to be maintaining an ancient tradition. The story goes that in the eighteenth century the china then being manufactured could not withstand boiling or even very hot water and was likely to crack. Accordingly it became the habit of hostesses to put milk into the cup first.

          This is where the mug issue comes to the fore. First, dunking a teabag into a mug is something of an abomination in any case, but it is jumping from the frying pan into the fire to put milk into the mug first. Even if you then use boiling water, the temperature of the ensuing brew is too low to allow a proper infusion to take place. You are almost back to your Israeli glass of warm water.

          It is too much to hope for the entire Israeli catering industry to change the habits of 72 years, but the very least that any patron should be able to ask for is the teabag in the glass and truly boiling water poured on it – oh, and a little jug of milk.

          Where does cake come into all this?

          There is a product on sale in virtually every supermarket in Israel that calls itself Ooguh Anglit, or English cake. It is a type of Madeira into which are baked tiny segments of crystallised fruits. The term seems generic, for the product is manufactured by a number of firms.

          My experience may be challenged by readers – indeed I expect most of what I have said to be challenged by readers – but I have travelled up and down the British Isles in my time, and I have never encountered Israeli “English cake” anywhere. On the other hand, widely available in the UK, and very popular, is “fruit cake”, which is a kind of Madeira into which are baked a selection of sultanas, raisin and currants. Scour the shelves in Israeli stores for a genuine English fruit cake, and you will be disappointed.

           What minor matters these are – tea and cake – set against the intractable problems facing the world. But our lives are built up of minor matters. One of them is the feeling of relief once you have got something off your chest.


Published in the Jerusalem Post, 17 July 2020:
https://www.jpost.com/food-recipes/in-search-of-a-proper-british-cup-of-tea-635155

No comments:

Post a Comment