Austerity luxury

Some enchanted teatime

Cakes and crumpets are back on the menu

FOR more than a century, the Palm Court at the Ritz hotel in London has resonated with the clink of fine china, as gentlefolk sip afternoon tea and nibble crustless cucumber sandwiches beneath glistening chandeliers. The silver tea service and strains of Chopin bespeak a bygone era. But a revamped version of afternoon tea is thriving.

Since 2004, the Ritz has served “afternoon” tea from 11.30am to 7.30pm; it hosts nearly 150,000 people a year. Saturday slots at the Savoy are booked up three months in advance. The Berkeley hotel in Knightsbridge changes its tea menu (cakes and other goodies are typically part of the package) every six months: recent offerings have included a “Valentino clutch cake” and a “Dolce & Gabbana éclair”. The economic doldrums have not hit demand; they may even have enhanced it.

When tea leaves were first imported to Britain in the 17th century, only a few could afford them. By the 18th century it had become the democratic drink of everyman; but afternoon tea as a distinct ceremony, complete with pastries, was a Victorian invention. A “mania for thinness” sent it into decline after the second world war, says Helen Simpson, author of a book on the subject. The gradual infiltration of American coffee culture also played a part, as did the rise of women in the workforce (less time for sipping), the widening array of social haunts and the ebbing of formality (the Ritz still bans jeans and “sports shoes”).

These days afternoon tea offers tradition with a modern twist. Caffeine-free rooibos red tea and onion bread are recent additions to the menu. A century ago the Ritz was one of the few places a lady could meet a man without a chaperone, says Ms Simpson; women still dominate the tea guests, but most now leave their menfolk behind. And the quintessentially British experience is typically served by tailcoated waiters from continental Europe.

Such luxury at a time of economic woe may be surprising. But tea seems to be an austerity-era way to splash out. At £42 ($67) a head, tea at the Ritz is a snip compared with lunch, let alone a room. Likewise, at the Savoy, tea is a more popular indulgence than a three-course dinner. “Tea is a celebratory meal but it’s often cheaper and doesn’t take as long”, says Christina Norton of the Maybourne Hotel Group, which runs Claridge’s, the Connaught and the Berkeley.

And the afternoon tea fad is trickling down. For less grand hostelries, it is a neat way to fill a formerly dead zone in midafternoon. For example, last year the Coach and Horses pub in the West End opened “Soho’s Secret Tea Room” in its private dining room, to pull in a crowd at a time when punters are scarce.

The cheapest way to observe the tradition, of course, is at home. “The Great British Bake Off”, a television programme devoted to cupcakes and crumpets, recently ended a second series. Sales of cookie cutters, cake stands and “vintage-style cake tins” have shot up, according to John Lewis, a department store. Portmeirion, a pottery firm, says tea, “the big thing of the moment”, has revived demand for its wares. Times may be tough, but Britons are still eating cake.