A Not-So Gracious Tea

As you are no doubt aware by now, I love my afternoon tea: the traditional formality; the concept of a tea party rather than ‘just a cuppa’;  the dainty cakes and lady-like sandwiches; the sheer self-indulgence. As it was my birthday, I felt that a little self-indulgence should be the flavour of the day. It was also the perfect excuse to catch up with some long lost friends. So imagine my delight to find our own Rockwell restaurant Jessie’s actually did afternoon tea with cucumber sandwiches, scones and clotted cream.

I booked for eight people a week before the event and waited in excited anticipation. My half-serious suggestion of hats and gloves was largely ignored, but I wore my hat and one friend donned a tiara, and the mood was set.

Jessie’s restaurant is very attractive and our round table overlooked the pool, with a beautiful posy of flowers in the centre. (Have you noticed how posies have faded from the floral fashion scene? I miss them, so I was extremely chuffed with this softly pink and pretty arrangement.)

It all went a bit downhill from there. Usually I prefer not to write about places that I can’t be enthusiastic about from some angle, but my disappointment in Jessie’s is such that I’m not keeping it to myself this time.  Normally a reputable dining spot, I was possibly overly optimistic. We haven’t eaten there a lot, but we have always been satisfied with the variety of the menu, the quality of the food, the service and the value.

Sadly, I cannot say this about our afternoon tea. Our waiter was almost sullen and not very helpful. We were obviously a nuisance. Despite being only four when we walked in, we had to deter him from throwing the afternoon tea on the table immediately. When it came, perhaps half an hour later, the lovely sandwich fillings (cucumber, salmon, egg) were spoiled by dried white bread left sitting out too long. And the scones and clotted cream verged on disastrous, as the scones crumbled to pieces at the touch of a knife. (The crumbs tasted good, but needed a spoon to be eaten.)

The clotted cream was thin and sour. We sent it back. The manageress assured us it had been freshly made that morning. I disagreed, and told her it was ‘off’. Apparently that sourness is intentional and it is what happens when you mix fresh cream with sour cream and lemon juice!?! I suspect they were thinking of crème fraiche rather than that gloriously rich, golden, eat-with-a-spoon, Cornish or Devonshire cream that adds inches to your thighs at a single glance. We swapped it for some ordinary thickened cream and poured the sparkling rosé.  Aah… a good note at last. And the top layer of our tea tray was filled with beautifully dainty cakes, amuse bouche of fresh, creamy sweetness that I am happy to say were delectable.

In the meantime, our ‘jolly’ waiter hovered right behind us all afternoon, looking as sour as the cream. I have never come so close to yelling publicly in my life, but I thought it best to keep my mouth shut and attempt to ignore him rather than spoil everyone’s afternoon by causing embarrassment in the dining room. Friends helped by keeping the bubbles coming, and in the end we had a giggly, girly and decidedly inebriated afternoon. I refrained from snapping at the waiter – but I would like him to know, now that I have cooled down, that he needs to learn a few social graces and some simple rules of waiting etiquette.

I would also like to say that when I popped in the next day to speak with the manager, she was very gracious when I expressed my disappointment and embarrassment at the afternoon’s fare – I had, after all, arranged a party for my friends that proved less than satisfactory. It was disappointing, because the menu had real potential. The atmosphere was relaxing (excepting our one unfortunate waiter), and the setting was very attractive. Surprisingly, I think I would go again, but not before I have passed on my mother’s recipe for scones and a description of clotted cream.