“When tea becomes ritual, it takes its place at the heart of our ability to see greatness in small things.” ~ Muriel Barbery, The Elegance of the Hedgehog.
It is almost Christmas and the streets and shopping malls of Makati are awash with shoppers and Santas, fumes and fairy lights, Christmas songs and klaxons, and I am in need of respite. What better way to gain some perspective on the madness of the Christmas season than to tip-toe away from the madding crowd into a tiny haven of peace and tranquillity, and restore my equilibrium over scones and a pot of tea?
The ritual of afternoon tea has had a renaissance in recent years. Once the domain of the British aristocracy, it has become a feature of many a restaurant and hotel from Claridges in Mayfair to the Plaza on Central Park; from the Shangri-la in Singapore to Sir Stamford at Circular Quay. Even here in Manila, there are a multitude of choice locations to take time out of a busy day and put the world to rights over tea and scones. Blackbird is the latest local restaurant to join the craze.
Black Bird in Ayala Triangle already seems to have won a large fan club as the hot spot for brunch, lunch and dinner, but I recently noticed that there is also an option for afternoon tea. So I booked a table as a pre-Christmas treat with a girlfriend.
‘Not another afternoon tea?’ I hear you groan. Yes, another afternoon tea indeed – and well worth a mention, so I am going to ignore your response and tell you all about it.
Unfortunately I forgot my tiara, but after a general inspection of the dining room and patio areas, we arranged ourselves comfortably in a little nook in the Cabin, the aptly named upper floor overlooking the park. Here we could watched the ebb and flow of people in the park and the traffic nudging its way down Makati Avenue from above, and thoroughly enjoy the respite from the pre-Christmas craziness below.
Originally part of the Makati airport, the Nielsen Tower – almost an octogenarian – has had a make-over
extraordinaire. Dowdy, dishevelled and worn-out, it has emerged, after months cocooned under canvas, as a beautiful butterfly, the captivating creation of Colin McKay, chef and owner of all our favourite Makati restaurants: People’s Palace, Sala Bistro and Sala Dining. While I have expressed my slight reservation about the eclectic concoction that is Blackbird’s dinner menu, the afternoon tea is, like Mary Poppins, practically perfect.
So we sat and chatted in stately splendour amongst the treetops, waiting with subdued excitement for the scones and sandwiches, while sipping joyfully on a lively Sauvignon Blanc from New Zealand. And we weren’t disappointed. The ubiquitious three-tiered cake stand duly appeared, and we tucked in with alacrity, warding off the teapot till we had finished our wine.
As you know, I have tried and tested many a fine English afternoon tea, but this one has proved the jewel in the crown. On the middle tier lay the sandwiches, prim and dainty: crustless white bread fingers of cucumber with cream cheese, and another of cream cheese delicately flavoured with truffle. Snuggled up beside them, was a disk-shaped morsel of pumpernickel garnished with smoked salmon and dill. I would like to say we ate them with ladylike equanimity, but unfortunately I would be lying. They were devoured.
On the top shelf sat four perfect scones. Petite and moist, featherlight and fresh, they were a thoroughly classy little mouthful. I tried to make some similar ones recently when I hosted an afternoon tea at home. While the size was right, the taste was not. I attempted a new recipe made with lemonade, designed to make them lighter and brighter. My mother has an excellent recipe, but she was away and I relied, foolishly, on an untested recipe from the internet. They were horrid. Without naming names, don’t ever use Sprite to make scones. These ones from the chefs at Blackbird were a different breed altogether, served with a dense, oozing strawberry jam and a heavy dollop of thick cream. Not quite Cornish clotted, but good enough. And gone. So was the wine.
The teapots arrived. I had ordered that Fujian favourite lapsang suchong, because I was like the smoky, almost whisky-ness of its flavour, and its glowing, golden colour in a shallow teacup.
Then we reached the third tier of cakes, by which time I am usually feeling overly embellished and can easily resist indulging in the closing act of sugar and spice. This time, however, unhindered by super-sized scones and too many sandwiches, I was tempted, and we left little but crumbs.
The violet macaroons were a melt-in-the-mouth delight. The delicate, unexpectedly floral flavour of violets was lined with a smidgeon of cream, dispersing the usual sugary sweetness of macaroons to a light tang on the tip of the 
tongue. The chunky but diminutive chocolate brownies were just a shiver of richness to fill the mouth without burdening the taste buds, especially when we had topped them with cream:
~ ‘Sorry, I took the rest of the cream.’
~ ‘That’s ok, we will just order more.’
And still there was more. More cream and more cake. A thin sliver of fruit cake, a doll’s house snippet of lemon
meringue pie and a dish of crème brûlé to share that was probably one step too far. Yet, until that final note, each offering was just a morsel, a mouthful, a soupçon of sweetness that did not engulf the taste buds, nor leave us feeling bloated and over-fed. The afternoon was a success; ‘an elegant sufficiency.’ There is indeed greatness in small things.