A few months ago, I saw a new teahouse had opened in Philadelphia, and I suggested to friend Katie that we go have tea some time. Typical busy people that we are, we agreed this was a good idea and did nothing about it. But recently Katie brought it up again, and in a fit of both thriftiness and creativity, I suggested we have tea at my apartment instead.
Unlike my living room, which is cold and dark this time of year, my bedroom is upliftingly warm and sunny. Though I grant you it’s a bit odd, I set up a table in my bedroom with a whole tea spread. I baked another semolina, coconut, and marmalade cake, and then picked up a few things at the store – bread, spreadable garlic/herb cheese, some green olive tapenade. I then culled other foods from around the house – other cheeses, meringues, tea.
I had some dark purple ranunculus flowers, and a recently-inherited orange tea pot. Katie brought her grandmother’s china tea cups.
The tablecloth was something I brought home from India years ago, a few of the little bowls and dishes I made in pottery class. (That’s my handiwork above, filled with sugar cubes.) Katie chose from amongst my many teas, and went for a Sri Lankan black tea with strawberry that I’d – randomly – brought home from a supermarket in Vietnam.
(R to L) Passionfruit coconut, sour cherry saffron, raspberry fail
I combined the meringues from Belle Cakery with my failed attempt at natural raspberry meringues – a tale of failure for another day. They went into the crystal dish I got when my grandmother downsized her life. I have fond memories of it filled with dill pickle spears at family gatherings.
It’s more of a habit for us to meet friends at a bar, or go out for coffee, but you might consider hosting a small tea party at your house. You could go for fun hats and dresses and the whole nine, or like us, just pull out the fancy dishes you rarely use, raid your fridge, and have a party!
Um, those cookies don’t look like fail. They’re gorgeous! I would never have been able to tell the difference between the pro ones and yours…
They don’t look too bad, but they taste like burnt failure. Alas.