Tea

It is likely that I took my first drink of tea from my mother’s saucer, I can’t remember it but that’s the way she started her grandchildren drinking tea so presumably that’s the way it was with me.

I do remember the yellow enamel teapot that spilled the dairy workers’ tea over my shoulder, because the scar remained for the next thirty years and I do remember my old Granny who, used to dry tealeaves for reuse.

The traditions relating to tea-taking seems to have disappeared but there was a time in our house that it was a real ritual. This happened once every six months when it was mum’s turn to host ‘the girls’, although not relatives, were my aunties.

The baking would begin two weeks before the event, licking the bowl was permitted but I was banned from even looking at the sealed tins! The sponge, (made with eggs that weren’t fresh, otherwise it wouldn’t rise) was baked the day before and the scones, which were to be spread with raspberry jam and dolloped with whipped cream, had to be baked the morning of the event.

The cleaning began a week before, and I was roped in to do the high stuff or anything I could be ‘trusted with’. We males, dad, brother and I were not sloths, but we were outdoorsy so we had to be pristine for a week.

The drawing room was used and that was pretty much the only time that room was used – the radiogram was in there but my sticky fingers were not permitted. We enjoyed mum’s music via a speaker wired into our spacious kitchen.

As well as the spread of cakes on the famous three-tiered cake-rack thingy, there were the fancy cups (even my small fingers, couldn’t fit through the handle) with the matching saucer and cake plate. How you balance all that with a cake on the plate, I have no idea!

The engagement-present-Silvo-polished, teapot was brought out with the matching sugar bowl and milk jug, which were covered with beaded doilies to keep the flies off.

‘The girls’ left enough crumbs for me – and lipstick on the cups.

Ordinarily mum liked her tea with milk but with a rich tan colour and from an early age I took her a cup into her bed each morning – a tradition I carry on with my wife who enjoys Alpine Tea, in bags. My dad liked his milky with two spoons of sugar. The rule was, one spoon of tealeaves per person and one for the pot.

I used to follow mum’s lead with strong milky tea with no sugar, but once in the bush, billy tea over a fire, strong and black was the norm – stewed tea if you like. I took no sugar because it was something else to carry.

Later portable tea in a Thermos flask was the thirst quencher of the day.

Tea is a traditional drink in Tanzania and anyone who saw me drinking black tea without sugar would refer to it as dawa – medicine. Their preference was half milk (or more) and half water, boiled in an aluminium suferia – lidless pot – with a handful of tealeaves and as much sugar as was affordable. This was the preference but it depended on shillings in the pocket how close to the preferred the tea would be.

While the sweet milky tea was not my tradition, my parents had drummed the ‘polite thing’ into me; never criticise other people’s food and clear your plate. It was good training but actually the sweet, milky brew grew on me – I looked forward to it on village visits. It must be remembered that people give you the best they have and sacrifice to do so, it costs nothing to show appreciation and respect.

In the village situation, someone who turns down meat because they choose to be a vegetarian is not easily understood and is tantamount to being insulting. I have been thus embarrassed. A bit like the guy who refused Coca Cola in a remote village ‘because Coke is not Coke unless it is cold’.

There is always a little bit of ‘glug’ at the top of a Thermos when the tea is milky and sweet, and I always copped it because as the guest I was served first! The first gulp downs the wad, and after that the drink is pleasant.

The empty cup turned upside down on a saucer (if there is one) shows you are satisfied.

Tea traditions seems to have been lost nowadays, the coffee revolution and green or flavoured teas may have something to do with it and teabags – messy teabags.

Myself, I’m back on Dilmah leaf tea with a little personal white, porcelain teapot. I always use my mug, the one my brother brought back from London with the inner city street names on it. Those names have long since worn off.

I use just one teaspoon of leaves, and turn the teapot around three times before I pour – maybe that is a tradition?

Black unsweetened tea – a thirst quencher and pleasant drink!