Atlantica - 01.12.2006, Síða 49

AT L A N T I CA 47
was slung around in modern London. Mist flows
over exotic mushrooms in the enormous produce
section, and plate after plate of salami and cheeses
sit under encased glass.
The employee at the tea counter, though polite
and wearing Harrods’s singular cardboard striped
hat, wasn’t much help beyond telling me that
English Breakfast was the department store’s best
seller.
“Tea” derives from the word “tay” in the
Chinese Amoy dialect. It is an evergreen subtropi-
cal or tropical plant, commonly thought to have
originated in southeast Asia where the Yangtze
River flows south of the Tibetan Highlands. Black
and green teas are not actually different plants;
the two kinds of tea are the result of different
processing.
London’s tea-drinking habit was in full swing
by 1659, after the Dutch brought the plant to
Europe from Asia. By 1760, Britain was importing
4.5 million tons of tea annually and a worldwide
trade had grown out of the Brits’ love for the leaf.
Though it grew into a home and parlor habit,
tea shops were established in London for out-of-
towners like myself visiting the capital.
Ladureé, a French bakery famous for its tech-
nicolor macaroons and extreme pastries, runs
a tea room on the Harrods food floor. Another
behatted employee pointed me in its direction:
“Next to the Krispy Kreme,” he instructed.
Like the celebrated donut chain, the Ladureé
tea room was pure sugar. Painted in syrupy pink
and green tones, the room was busy with shop-
pers on hiatus from Harrods’s floors of merchan-
dise. Men sat dutifully in front of complicated set-
tings of silver teapots and plateware, enduring.
I chose an outdoor table to watch the passing
of London cabs and fashionable children – a little
girl wearing white patent leather go-go boots,
a little boy in a crisp, collared shirt and, judging
from his shopping bag, probably Thomas Pink’s
youngest customer.
A mother and daughter team sat down at the
next table.
“I really, really want some nice jeans,” said the
daughter, lighting a cigarette. Her mother sur-
veyed the Knightsbridge street from behind a pair
of sunglasses with lenses the size of frisbees. “The
thing about London is that you know everything
is here. You just have to find it.”
Indeed. So where was my authentic British tea
experience? Why was the only place I’d found
French?
The feeling endured throughout my wander-
ings for the rest of the afternoon. I did visit tea
rooms that were offering afternoon tea in uncon- The pastries of London are calling.
044-51 LondonAtl606.indd 47 18.10.2006 22:35:09