Necessity is the Mother of Invention Tests

Now without wanting to come over all new age hippy, Mr Beedub and I have started to become more conscious of minimizing food waste and trying to use up what we have before we head off to Saino's in search of new ingredients. Also I am just plain lazy.

From experience, this can go one of two ways. Dogs dinner.  Or if you are lucky, MasterChef* Invention Test Boom.

I have also learned that sometimes you are in the mood to be creative and sometimes you are just forced to be. For example:

Today I woke up after a tough work week and really felt like making breakfast. I dug up a few of my favourite books for inspiration and got quite excited about a couple of recipes for Shaksuka - a saucy egg breakfast, Tunisian in origin.

Sadly when I opened the fridge, it was not brimming with fresh tomatoes or peppers as I had hoped and as I was most definitely not up for removing my pajamas and heading to the shop, Shaksuka was not to be. I did, however, spot a lonely half tub of buttermilk cowering at the back waiting for the old heave ho and decided to take pity on it.

The third invention test nugget I am going to share with you is my personal favourite and is as fun as the cooking bit. It is learning the art of typing random things into Google like: "what can I make with pickled onions, yoghurt and celery". This may surprise you, but my old search buddy has never let me down. There is genuinely always a random person somewhere on the planet, who has not only created a recipe using your fridge rejects, but bothered to post in on the tinternet to boot.

With this in the back of my mind, I was filled with quiet confidence that something as lush as buttermilk would be a no brainer. The first thing that my search threw up was page after page of American style buttermilk biscuits and gravy. They looked too much like scones to me and I couldn't reconcile my self with a creamy meaty sauce for breakfast so I moved on.

Serendipity stepped in and the very next thing I found was John Torode's Buttermilk Pancakes on BBC Food (my fourth tip for creating something from nothing - the Beeb has the best recipes on the net by far).

How could that not be a sign when a recipe from the Yoda of Invention Tests shows up right? 

I am not planning rehash the recipe here as a. that's theft and b. it's boring so instead, here's the recipe from the man himself

John Torode's Buttermilk Pancake Recipe

And a few photos to prove that even a kitchen clutz can make these.

Finally a here few observations after making these bad boys.

You can halve the quantity if you don't have enough of one thing. Don't play with the proportions though. I was a bit short on buttermilk and thought I would be clever and use a bit more butter instead - not smart it made them too oily.

This is a bit different to standard pancake recipes I have made in the past. The batter develops into exciting bubbly alchemy which spooked me at first so I wasn't quite sure how to work with it, but stay calm people, they  do turn out well in the end.

Even in the quest for saving the planet and thriftiness, throw out expired bicarb!

All the cook books tell you this, but I have now learned this first hand. Having a good larder (or cupboard above the sink if you like) of great staples like plain and self raising flour, caster sugar, baking powder, bicarb and vanilla essence will stand you in excellent stead for whipping up some very good breakfast staples in emergencies.

Always, always have eggs in the house and buy more bacon than you need and freeze it. It will literally make you shout with joy when you unexpectedly find a pack of rashers hiding behind the half eaten Ben & Jerry's whilst foraging for breakfast food.

 So there you go, from buttermilk to badass breakfast in three easy clicks.

*There are two British cooking shows that have changed my life. MasterChef and The Great British Bake Off. Before I started watching them, I had no idea what samphire was and I didn't own a spatula, much less a springform baking tin. I now do, but can attest to the fact that it isn't really possible to use all three at once. 

You win some, You lose some

I like to think that the great explorers didn't hit the jackpot every time they set off in their wooden ships to discover the New World. There is a reason Tristão d'Acunha never made it to school history books, whilst his country man Vasco da Gama did: realistically, who wants to be the bloke who found the most remote, desolate place on earth?

Likewise, on my Sunday sorties to find Eggtopia, it would be safe to say it ain't always plain sailing either.Today was one such day.

To be fair, it did start well. I had a game plan and quest to sample the delights of Goode and Wright in Notting Hill. I may possibly have made my first schoolgirl error by optimistically strolling in there after the bells of St Peter's had chimed 12. Needless to say, in spite of there being three empty tables, none of them were be destined to be ours. They were reserved for much more organized people who booked in advance (who books in advance? On a Sunday??). To add insult to injury one of them was covered in trays of chopdribblyumptious pastries. So not fair.

I am nothing if not resourceful and so to my Plan B we headed - the Electric Diner. 
Game show buzzer sounds at this point. Sorry for you, lazy late sleepers with no ability to plan in advance, you do not win the prize of a cozy booth with gorgeous Waffley things, instead you win the choice of A. Starbucks Breakfast or B. a revolting breakfast in a place just down the road.

Such sadness. The food in in said place down the road was so bad, I couldn't eat it. Yes, even Beedub, who would eat crickets dipped in amazon mud if hungry, was defeated. Luckily as I am not a Jodi Piccoult fan and favour happy uplifting stories, I couldn't let the Sunday end with nasty congealed egg and soggy parma ham and so dragged Mr Beedbub back up Portabello road to find something crispy and loaded with sugar.

Pressing my nose on Goode and Wright's window (and possibly begging for crumbs off tables) started to embarrass Mr Beedub and just as he was dragging me away, we spotted L'Epicerie By Jimmy. Next door.


It looks like a random little pop up bakery. And it kind of is. As you walk in, there are buttery, cheesy, cakey smells wafting from a gingham clad table nestling below a cheery Self Service sign.

My sweet tooth started throbbing at the sight of the Pistacchio croissants, but it was a real battle between sweet and savoury as the Bechamel, Pesto, Mushroom & Truffle Oil Tartine smelt heavenly too.

Apparently it's all self service there and you can pick and go or find a quirky corner to eat there. We picked up a coffee for Mr Beedub too as he was worn out from the breakfast search drama. They serve Monmouth and they service it strong. He is still running up and down the street as I write this.



If you are looking for a leisurely, opulent Sunday brunch, then this isn't your place, but if you happen to love the buzz of Portabello on a Sunday, but really can't be arsed to get up early or book, then this fun little place full of french fancy could definitely save the day.

L'Epicerie By Jimmy
273 Portobello Road
Notting Hill
Website and Menu
How To Get There

In search of Egg Laying Woolly Pigs...

So having worked with Germans and Austrians for a long  time, I have developed a love of all things Germanic. If I had to pick favourites, it would probably come down to (and in no particular order) German idioms and Austrian breakfasts.

Which other nationalities have the linguistic limbleness to not only achieve in two words what English would take a paragraph to describe, but to crack it in a way that simply isn't possible in Her Majesty's idiom?

Exhibit A: "eierlegende vollmilchsäue"

Literally translated "An egg laying, milk producing, woolly pig."

Common meaning "A jack of all trades. Someone who can literally do anything."

Now not only is this one of my favourite German idioms, but it also allows me a bit of poetic license to lead on to my second favourite thing to come out of Middle Europe. Tenuous I know, but what's not to love about the idea of a mythical beast that could provide you with a full monty breakfast?

The same is true of an Austrian breakfast. There is a well balanced symmetry to dawn dining in the country that brought us sachertorte, schnitzel and other culinary delights you just don't find outside of Europe.

Added to that, there is simplicity -  no fannying about with fancy sauces and griddle pans, which I love. It's no secret that I am a sucker for rich, elaborate breakfasts, but there are some days when the basics, done perfectly, are just what you feel like.

A recent blog entry written in Innsbruck, Austria, waxed lyrical about the growing creativity to be found breakfasting in Austria's larger cities. I experienced a real pang writing that because I genuinely miss the efficiency of a breakfast that tastes great, but doesn't exhaust you with too many choices. Plus did I mention the coffee? And that you can eat cake, yes people, CAKE for breakfast...

Finally, in my usual rambling way, I get to the point: with a little bit of help from an Austrian friend, it turns out that a true Austrian breakfast, served in a way only the Viennese understand, is very much alive, well and brewing in London.

Enter Kipferl. Austrian born and bred twin eateries, one in Nottinghill/Kensigton and the other in Islington. If you know London at all, you are probably familiar with Goldborne Road. If not, it is the lesser known cousin of Portabello road, a cheeky cornucopia of antique funk. 

Now I have been there more times than I have fingers, but somehow have managed to miss Kipferl until today. I think it's because its slightly innocuous black facade is easily overpowered by the colourful pavement melee that starts to wake up at 12 on a Sunday. When you get there at 10am, however, most shutters are still down and the traders haven't begun to take over the pavements.

What heaven! Unlike its famous neighbour Pizza East, Kipferl isn't heaving at that time of day. You have plenty of peace and quiet to catch up and enjoy the fact that the staff are actually Austrian. Thankfully though they are a London friendly version of traditional Viennese service. If you've been to Vienna you'll know what I mean - not for the faint hearted!

The breakfast menu is small and authentically Austrian. We chose the Viennese Breakfast, topped up with an additional Eier Zwei. Quintessentially what Austrians do well: bread, ham, cheese and egg. But that doesn't do it justice at all. We aren't talking just any bread, we are talking semmel: crunchy, golden rolls with gloriously soft, yummy centres. And rye that is dark and deliciously exotic. Hell, even the ham tastes like it has been smoking gently in a barn in the mountains somewhere.

It's not cheap, but then nowhere in London really is anymore and Kipferl gets away with it because they use excellent, fresh ingredients, they know how to serve the perfect soft boiled egg and their coffee is beyond tasty, served with Viennese flair. Translated that means on a silver tray accompanied by elegant glasses of water and melt in the mouth chocolates.

I would definitely recommend a visit to Kipferl West's Islington sister too as they appear to have a slightly bigger menu with a few dishes that have piqued my curiosity. With the Austrian skill with all things bread, how could their version of French toast be anything other than lush?

Kipferl
95 Golborne Road, 
London
W10 5NL
Website and Menu
How to Get There

Head Souf for the Winter

picture from www.number67.co.uk

Birds do it. Bees do it (well actually they don't according to Mr Beedub) but Antipodians most definitely do it whenever possible. I am referring my friends, to the pursuit of happiness and sun...         

 

flying South for the Winter.

 

 

 As the winter mizzle is finally starting to descend on The Island once more, I dusted off the Shengan Visa today and went Souf. Not to Gatwick though, just past Vauxhall really, but far enough to find a peachy little cornucopia of breakfast happy. In case you are London based and haven't crossed the Thames for awhile, you like me, have been missing out.

 

picture from www.number67.co.uk

Thanks to the Tory induced housing boom, there are new pockets of gastronomic heaven mushrooming (on Toast) from Elephant and Castle to Dulwich. Well the London City folk do need to eat somewhere decent Dahling...

 

We picked one such pocket today and it was a cracker. In Camberwell.

 

The South London Gallery it turns out, is not only a respected haven for contemporary art, but in one corner, overlooking its gorgeous garden, there lives a little Cafe called No67.

 

picture from www.southlondongallery.org

Now the Daily Mail says 'Dinner at No67 is a wondrous, indulgent affair', but that ain't why I chose it. Its website had me at the dedicated link for 'Weekend Brunch' which when clicked, revealed creativity to rival the gallery curators next door. Even the full English has been lovingly recrafted into a sun seekers 'Full Spanglish' spiked with spicy chorizo and morcilla. Morcilla, in case you're wondering, is Spanish black pudding. Olé!

There are wonderful variations of all the breakfast favourites with the things you already love and expect from them, swapped for even more delicious things you don't instantly think of when you're banging around in your kitchen, but which make perfect sense and you wish you had. Pour example: why wouldn't you serve waffles with banana, honey AND almonds, figs and creme fraiche? Or be forced to choose between Eggs Royale and Florentine when you could have both combined. And with more morey morish Scottish cured trout instead of plain old salmon to boot? 

 

No67 don't just requirk old faithfuls, they also have plenty of their own inventions too. How about rare roast beef with drippings on toast? Dribblychopsmackyumptious! Even mini Londonites get some choices too. Exhibit A: 'tomato, pepper and cheese soldiers'. Is that not a genius way of sneaking two out of 'Five a Day' past your unsuspecting four year old?

 

But since today is technically Sinful Sunday, the dish I was looking for needed warmth and spice and calories. And be something I have never had before. Praise Be, I found it. It was a sneaky sucker though, I will admit. It would have been easy to breeze past the unassuming 'baked egg with tomato and pepper stew with sourdough' but luckily before the 'Welsh Rarebit' got me, I spotted the crafty option to add 'slow cooked pork'. If you've read The Undesputed Duke's of Hackney, you might remember that I have a rather unusual palate for mixing pork products with unexpected accompaniments, based in part on my Mum's rather eclectic sandwich making when I was growing up. It therefore was no surprise I loved the idea throwing juicy, tender pork together with tangy tomato, zingy pepper and with an egg cracked in to give it brunch legitimacy.

Pause for effect.

It most definitely lived up to its bubbling, rich, tummy tickling potential. And more.

 

One of the reasons I will definitely go back (aside from eating breakfast in the glorious garden in summer) is because they care about detail. The toast served with my breakfast, was beautiful hand baked sourdough, drizzled with deep green olive oil. The baked beans in the Spanglish were home made. The orange juice is so fresh you can chew it. And they do those cute leafy things on their lattes.

 

They also happen to play Rudimental. At the perfect volume to make you feel perky, but not too loud to upset your cutey baby nephew, perched in the clever Scandinavian stylee high chair they are happy to supply.

 

In short, No67 is hip and fun, but there isn't a whiff of pretension to be found. Just lovely jubbly breakfast that makes you smile.

 

And smile and maybe burp a little. Pardon me.

 

No67

67 Peckham Road

SE5 8UH

Website and Menu

How to Get There

 

 

PS get there early. Unfortunately others appear to have heard how great it is too.

Seventh Time Lucky

I have adventured to Lucky 7 a grand total of seven times, but inexplicably not managed to get it together enough to write about it. Ok I might be taking a wee bit of poetic license here. It's only six, but in context, that's more than any other breakfast joint in the world.

 

I should tell you straight off the bat that the reason I haven't waxed lyrical about it until now is not because it's a wrong 'un. Completely the opposite. It's simply because every time I have been there, it's been with friends as part of a lovely days ramble through Nottinghill from which I normally return sleepy and content and take a gigantic nap, only waking up in time for Strictly (I'm not going to lie, pub pit stops might also have been involved).

 

What I am trying to say in a clumsy way is that Lucky 7 is a cracking way to start your Saturday. Although I haven't done this personally (that's my story and I am sticking to it), I reckon it would also be a brilliant way to end a very Good Friday night too.

 

It's no secret that I love American Breakfasts or that I am obsessed with 50's style diners. I blame John Travolta and Olivia Newton John. And the fact that diners were in short supply in Zimbabwe where I grew up. So effectively for a Zimbo kid, Lucky 7 is Disneyland. With eggs.

 

But I digress and in the interests of making sure this actually gets posted, I'll keep this short and sweet: 

 

Seven things you should know about Lucky Seven

 

#1 It's miniscule and by 11 it's rammed, so if you're not a morning person and prefer your coffee in solitude and don't like breakfast speed dating, get there early or with a group big enough to fill a whole booth

#2 Screw that. Early on Saturdays is for joggers - embrace the 7's booth sharing policy and go when your stomach can handle a feast. You never know who you will scooch over for. Rumour has it Jude Law goes there.

#3 The loo is downstairs and if you, like me, are a glutton for coffee, make sure you sit on the outside of the booth otherwise you'll annoy Jude Law having to get up all the time for you.

#4 All the food is Fanbloodytastic. And I mean ALL of it. But if I had to choose...

#5 For a sweet tooth day - the Buttermilk Pancake maple syrupy goodness hands down. For hangover or bigass hunger days it has to be the Breakfast Burrito crammed full of scrambled eggs, black beans, salsa, guacamole and either bacon or chorizo (choose the chorizo, choose the chorizo!). Or you could have the flat version of the same - their spicy Heuvos Rancheros feast.

# 6 The menu calls coffee 'Cwoffee'. And they don't seem to get annoyed if you insist on ordering everything in a stupid faux accent

# 7 The staff and owner rock. And it might be because Jude Law is sitting at your table, but even though the service is speedy and the queue out the door massive, you never ever feel rushed.

After all that I have officially made my self hungry. I am off for a seventh time lucky Cwoffee...

Pictures are by my extremely talented friend LondonMeliss

Lucky 7
127 Westbourne Park Road 
W2 5QL
How to Get There
Website and Menu

 

Pão de Queijo or otherwise known as Cheesy Balls of Brazilian Heaven

Once upon a time when I was much, much younger (and skinnier), I travelled to the beautiful land of Brazil. My twenty something self arrived wide-eyed in Rio for an event, only to fall hopelessly in love with its beauty, people, crazy Joie de Vivre and of course, Beedub being Beedub, the food.

 

For its versatility, gooey decadence, heavenly smell and hangover busting properties, there was one particular food that captured my heart and soul. Each and every time I return to Brazil, I make it a personal ritual to feast on it daily at breakfast. 

 

Pão de Queijo as actually made by Beedub

Big praise indeed, but as far as I am concerned, these cheesy little balls of happiness deserve it all. I mentioned versatility and Pão de Queijo earn the accolade by starting their daily appearance at breakfast and literally popping up throughout the day at every meal as a starter, accompaniment or meal in themselves. Kingsmill sliced white loaf be damned I say - there is a lot to be learned from Brazilians about bread.

 

For me PdQ's are at their finest lovely and warm and squishy straight from the oven, enjoyed at breakfast accompanied by a delicious coffee or, if it's summer, a thirst quenching watermelon juice.

 

It's taken the better part of 14 years for me a). to pluck up the courage to attempt to make them and b).be at home long enough to risk trashing my kitchen in the attempt. As it happens, Life has kindly delivered me some time at home and inspiration all in one go and so a few days ago to ye olde faithful Google I went in search of a recipe.

 

After wading through two recipes, I discovered my first challenge. Pão de Queijo require tapioca flour. No clue what that is? You're not alone. Some more digging online revealed that it is the product of the cassava root (wahay), there is no substitute (boo) and it is not easy to find (double boo), but if you can find a Brazilian Supermarket or online food import store it's not impossible (yay). I went the online food store route so if you are in the UK I can recommend a goodie Melbury and Appleton (click orange text to go to website)

 

I also managed to bag Mr Beedub some coveted Franks Hot Wings Sauce and some lush chorizo in the same order which scored me major brownie points (and went some way to compensating for the trashed kitchen, but more on that later.

 

picture from www.thekitchn.com

Having patiently waiting for my tapioca flour to arrive, today was the day. I am not going to lie, my baking confidence was not high after a rather disastrous recent attempt at banana bread, but the thought of cheesy loveliness was enough to make me take the plunge. I don't know about you, but I find choosing recipes online quite intimidating. There are so many  Pão de Queijo recipes out there and I am sure most of them are good so how on earth do you choose? In the end my extremely scientific selection process was a follows:

Whose recipe had the picture that looked the most like I remembered them?

Which recipe didn't require a muffin tin as naturally I don't own one?

 

So recipe selected off I went. I am not going to rehash the recipe here as I would rather send you straight to the source, but I will give you a few tips that might help, if like me you are a virgin baker.

 

theKitchn ~ How to make Pao de Queijo (click orange text for recipe)

 

Beedub Feedback:

 

There are really helpful pictures with the recipe. Which I didn't see until now. Using them might, possibly, have been the practical thing to do.

 

I find measurements in cups quite scary as I have mahoosive cups which I don't think are correct. If you want to reduce your stress, buy yourself one of those official baking cup measuring thingies. Or the best I can suggest is to pick a reasonably sized cup and measure everything with same cup. If you happen to own Starbucks Mugs, don't, under any circumstances, use them. It can only end in pain. Not that I would know from personal experience...

 

In the first assembly step you wait for the milk and oil to come gently to the boil. Don't be afraid if the milk and oil look completely separate. Hang in there. Eventually they do froth together and if you remove at that point (with the big bubbles) it all seems to work out. Phew.

 

In Step 2 adding the flour to the boiled liquid, be prepared for mad kitchen mess and achy arms and panic that you have inadvertently created a substitute for wall paper paste. Again hang in there. It looks awful but it does work. Also the messy kitchen might just have been my incompetence.

 

consistency after cheese and eggs picture from www.thekitchn.com

Step 3 when you add the egg and then the cheese, if like me you do it by hand, it may look quite lumpy and extremely sticky. Persevere as long as you can before you get disco elbow and they will be delicious (albeit not quite as smooth and peachy looking as the picture).

 

Cooking time - I didn't cook them quite as long as the recipe suggested but I judged it by cutting one open. Also it is possible since my oven dial has no numbers my oven may have been a bit hotter than they recommended.

 

One final tip as I ran out of parmesan I substituted 30% with plain old English Cheddar and I actually think that improved the flavour and texture.

 

I am ridiculously proud to tell you that mine tasted delicious. Even Mr Beedub said so. My friends this is proof enough that this is a most excellent recipe.

 

So having just climbed my personal baking Everest, I just have one remaining question: With deliciousness like this at their finger tips, how on earth do Brazilian women have asses that teeny and perky??

Tea for Two. Nein! Dree is ostfreesenrecht...

One of my earliest memories is of visiting a charming but ancient family friend, known to my sister and I as Aunty Ruth.

Not only did she introduce to me to the dark and twisty world of 'Struwwelpeter'* (a German Book of cautionary tales for children written in the 1800's) which I loved, she was also the first person who introduced me to the art of tea. Aged 4, I was taught to drink tea from beautiful china cups and that my pertly cocked pinky finger was a sign that I must be descended from Royalty.

Unfortunately Aunty R's lessons in ladylike were thwarted by my mum's decision to send me to an all boys school at the same time (story for another day) and so not only did I fail to master the skill of brewing beautiful, rich tea, I never developed a palate for drinking it either. Instead, on a regular basis, insulting Ruth with my requests for weak 'fishy washy tea' as taught me by my new boy mates at school.

Now at this point, if I haven't lost you, you might be wondering what the hell all of this has to do with breakfast. I'll admit it, I am taking a few liberties here, but this blog is about celebrating breakfast with special people all over the world and tea is definitely a part of that.

And on another technicality, this blog is also about my love of collecting unusual beverages and culturally quirky culinary rituals when I travel. So imagine my delight when on a recent trip to Germany, I not only discovered it has spectacular Islands, but that in the very Northern part tickled by the North Sea, there exists a delightful ritual for celebrating tea.

Growing up colonial style in Zimbabwe and having lived on Her Majesty's Island for the past 9 years, I have hereto taken it as read that the English had the monopoly on stiff upper lips and tea drinking.

I'm treading carefully here in the interests of not disturbing that fragile relationship between Cameron Island and Merkel Land, but if there was a World Cup for tea art, then the Germans might just be as successful as they are at football...

This is a big claim, I know. So let me do my best to share with you this tea magic that I discovered on a little sandy Island in the North Sea and you can decide for yourself.

In East Frisia (think the North Western Coastal part of Lower Saxony) the locals have been celebrating tea for 400 years. And I don't use the word 'celebrating' loosely. We are talking relish in every sense of the word. Make that all five senses of the word. If Google is to be believed then at some points in their history, East Frisians even chose tea over beer with the influx of tea dramatically dropping beer production!

What follows is my best attempt to introduce you to this beguiling tradition as taught to me by a very special friend (with a few additional facts from my ubiquitous friends Google and Wiki).

 

The first point is that 'dunk, drink and disappear' is not an option. Tea must never be rushed, but savoured. Whilst the East Frisians initially saw this herby beverage from the East as medication, they soon realised that it is the perfect centre piece for entertaining, enjoying family and relaxation. Everything about their very specific way of preparing and serving it reflects this.

It starts with the tea selection. You will find unique tea blends for the region as readily available as we find PG Tips. Everyone has a favourite and the chosen blend is often sold loose to be spooned into the pot at home. Of course modern life has shaped things now and you do find 'ready made' bags too, but these are unique too in their design - the sole focus being on releasing maximum flavour. My extremely scientific research tells me that a traditional East Frisian blend is often Assam and Ceylon teas.

Equally important is the tea pot. The tea pot is the centrepiece of the table served on a 'Stövchen' (literally translated means Little Stove - a glass or ceramic warming based powered by a tea light candle). As my first experience of drinking tea the East Frisian way was in a restaurant on the Island, mine was served in an individual pot and stövchen. Tea Teacher friend was very quick to tell me that what he considered 'little pots' were not strictly correct - the pot should be large enough for lots of people to enjoy lots of cups of the tea, but in the interests of my education he would let the individual pot slide. This time.

He was equally as specific about the cup design. If one of Marie Antoinette's lady bags was allegedly used to model the Coupe champagne glass, I wonder if she didn't lend her other one to the Germans to model their tea cups on?  I am hopeless with ceramic describery but the cup should be wide and shallow much like a Coupe.

What I will try to explain a bit better, is the reason that the shape of the cup is so important. If you think that selecting and brewing the tea is already intricate then, friends, we are only just beginning because it is in the serving and drinking that the true art lies.

Most importantly, the art is designed around the fact that you never ever drink only one cup. My online digging tells me that three cups is the accepted number. There is even an expression for it "dree is ostfreesenrecht" - so be warned woe betide anyone who tries to remove the pot after only one cup!

Honestly, this actually makes absolute sense because drinking Frisian Tea is an taste journey where every one of the three cups taste different. To achieve the perfect taste journey, the aforementioned pot should be served with also aforementioned special tea cups and saucers plus three new additions.

The first of these is a pot of crystallised sugar chunks. Not lumps. Or the fancy pants crystal sugar stick things you get in tea shops. These mysterious beauties look like they are chipped from white and black sugar volcanos. They even have a name 'kluntjes'. And, just like the tea, pot and cup they are chosen for a reason - their leisurely dissolving properties. I have no idea if there is a possibility not to have sugar with your tea in East Frisia. I suspect not, and in my case I was ordered to place at least one at the bottom of my cup. As I am a sweet tooth I took thee.

The second tea tray accompaniment is the most surprising for those of us weaned on English traditions. East Frisians take their tea with cream. And I don't mean American cream aka Milk to the rest of the World. I mean Strawberries and Cream, cream. Tea Teacher knows me well and quickly noticed my wrinkled nose and arched eyebrow. Unfazed,  he knew that all he needed to do to defuse my cynicism was to sprinkle a little fairy dust in my cup and tell me that the cream was necessary to create clouds. Well who wouldn't be fascinated by the offer to have clouds in their tea cup?

He needed the third special item to demonstrate. A tea spoon. He showed me that the viscous cream, when carefully poured in a very little amount using the spoon and side of the cup creates an amazing effect as the heavy cream sinks to the bottom and then shoots the surface in tiny cloud like fireworks. I am not going to lie. I clapped like four year old me when I saw them.

From that point onwards, the spoon is redundant. For friends, you never, never stir your tea. Each sip changes in flavour. Your first sip is almost unsweetened, pure black tea with a teeny hint of cream. The second sip brings you a hint of sugar starting to blend with a soupçon of cream. About one sip from hitting sugar, you add more tea. And so it continues taking your taste buds on an adventure through every cup.

 

If you had told me two months ago I would spend two hours immersed in drinking tea and write 2000 words in homage, I would have laughed at you. I am not sure if it was the magical little tea clouds, the azure Frisian Sky above or the very yummy cake that is also a highly accepted accompaniment to tea, but somewhere on that island I got hooked. Luckily Herr Google is now helping me find my own East Frisian Tea tools online so I can continue the tradition on Her Majesty's Island.

 

Maybe one day, I will be some little girl's ancient Aunty Beedub and I will show her with great joy the REALart of tea. And of course my old friend StruwwelPeter...

 

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