Le five o´clock
You know that thing Holly Golightly has with Tiffany´s, the feeling that nothing bad can happen to you there? I get that when confronted with an English afternoon tea.
Everything evaporates when they place that little silver tower before me, troubles fade before the delicious Christmas-morning indecision: where to start?
(The answer has to be the scone, of course, while it´s still hot and able to melt the clotted cream a little.)
To my mind, it´s one of the most sophisticated food creations around. A tasting menu, if you will, going through a whole gamut of different tastes and textures, and with the added bonus of no irritating waiters telling you "Chef suggests you start with the rice pudding, take a bite of the biltong tempura, and chase with the roast-watermelon bloody mary".
The UK seems like a crazily foodie place, all about Gordon Ramsay´s loss of a Michelin star, Nigella´s new program, or the launch of yet another line of Thai-prawn-bresaola crisps. But I spent the best possible hour in the very bourgeois and old-fashioned confines of Bettys Tea Rooms in Harrogate, nibbling on the little cakes to make them last.
You can take your Michelin stars and put them with your Tiffany´s diamonds, I´ll be perfectly happy with my cucumber sandwiches. Very cheap date, moi.