It’s about tea time.

My enjoyment of drinking tea was certainly renewed in England where Andria and I downed multiple cups a day. We created a little ritual of our own where we would fill the electric kettle with water, add two teabags to the little red teapot, cut a slice of lemon for me, get the milk out for her, pour the boiling water into the pot and let it steep for three minutes before pouring it into our dedicated mug. I added a spoonful of raw sugar to mine as well and we would repeat this over breakfast and again when we came in from our day’s adventures.

I loved the welcoming warmth and ritual of it.

Tea and its ritual always reminds me of Scott’s mom, Alice. When Scott and I married, we were included in the first Christmas Tea she hosted at The Adolphus Hotel. By we I mean Erin, Sarah, Molly and I (Traci being grown and living out of town by then.) This was serious tea. And we (4 daughters/in-law and 6 granddaughters who lived in town) were serious about it.

Everyone was dressed up (30 years ago that meant hose and heels, velvet, satin, taffeta, festive beaded sweaters–DRESSED UP!) The picture above is from 2007 when the government said we could wear pants.

At the time, the little girls — mine were 7 and 10; the others about the same–could barely walk, they were so excited. They had never been anywhere so fancy and they were on their best behavior. We all sat in the beautiful lounge area, appointed in sofas and chairs strategically arranged for groups of 4 and up, perched awkwardly on the edge of our seats, feet together, hands in lap, completely unsure as to what was coming.

We could never have anticipated the grandeur and exotic newness of the whole experience.

The liveried waiter wheeled the teacart out, resplendent with three gleaming pots and multiple tea tins, plus various accoutrement.

He first recounted to us the history of tea, how it was discovered in China and winded its way to England. (You can Google all this. Really, I can’t tell you everything.) Then he explained how our tea would work. We were to choose three kinds of tea from a selection of a half dozen. We put our heads together and chose a breakfast tea, the Christmas blend and another which escapes me.

He whisked the cart away then returned a few minutes later, with plates, napkins and forks for each of us and the cart on which the three pots were brewing. He offered us tea sandwiches: salmon, cucumber and one other which escapes me. He put them on our plates with tongs in a gloved hand.

I remember the salmon because Molly discovered that she loved it and ate the ones the others thought were “ew.” Diane’s daughter Katie preferred the cucumber and asked for more, which I admired, but my girls were appalled. (We were not as aggressive back then as we are now.) To her credit, she got more sandwiches.

There were also chocolate dipped strawberries and scones, accompanied by clotted cream (this is not Cool Whip or even whipped cream, mind you, but heavier and less sweet) and jam.

These things are hard to manage with the plate on your lap, especially if you are 7. But everyone stayed calm and kept on eating.

And then there was the tea. Steaming hot, fragrant, golden, poured from the pot with that same gloved hand. Each one had to choose the tea they wanted for the first cup. Our tea sommelier (I’ll call him Jeeves, although his name was probably Kevin) demonstrated how to use the strainer across the cup to catch the loose leaves (no, no, no, no bags!) Then we could add lemon slices as thin as cellophane, cream from the tiny pitcher, or sugar cubes retrieved from the bowl with tongs.

The tea was received with mixed reviews. One of the older girls asked for a Coke and got one. My girls might have wanted a Coke, but the withering look I gave them told them in no uncertain terms that we were here for tea, by God, and we would drink tea.

To THEIR credit, they tried all the teas and relished the process of fixing their own cups after the waiter retreated.

He returned with the trays of artfully decorated desserts, each one a tiny work of art: petit fours and tarts and others that escape me. By then we were sloshy and getting full.

Then he appeared with trays of cocoa-dusted truffles.

I asked for a box and took mine home for Scott.

Alice took us to tea at the Adolphus until they told her our party was too big for them to manage. We went to Lady Primrose, Chocolate Angel, and another place that escapes me. But none ever compared to the glory of The Adolphus.

But by then, we were all hooked on tea. Diane did it one year at her house and it was lovely, with her granddaughter Annie learning to walk. Then Erin hosted at her house years later and it was wonderful, too. We introduced Lyla to it (Wren was 6 months old and not interested.) Then last year I sent Erin’s box of teacups to Oregon and she introduced tea to the Great Northwest.

I have a collection of teapots and cups and plan to host tea this year with my co-grandmother Tamala. We are going to bring the welcoming warmth and ritual back to the holidays. It will be just as I remember from those days at the Adolphus, including the clotted cream.

Thank you, Alice. We love you and miss you.