High tea: part 1

British tea drinking is sort of odd. I mean, mostly your real intense fanatics have left big pots and flavoured teas waaaay behind them on the road to tea zendom. But it isn't that big-pot, sugar-added brewing is contemptible; far from it. I always feel that, well, Asia is where tea comes from. They know how to handle it best. Regardless, though, and hypocritical as it sounds, the tea I drink most often is Lapsang Souchong; and the pot I use most often is big enough for two and a half large mugs'-worth. Those are my 'daily brewing needs,' as I would say if I was annoying.

So if you, like me, drink in mugs more frequently than tiny cups, only make sure you do it right. Use good looseleaf tea. Try to avoid companies like Mighty Leaf and Twinings. I'm grateful to the former for their drinkable coffee shop teabags, but I don't turn to them for actual tea. They don't REALLY understand it. Go to a teashop. Buy from an online site. Whatever, but bear in mind that supermarkets to not harbor good tea. Otherwise, boil from cold; rinse the pot with almost-boiling water, then put the tea leaves in, then pour over the water (with the exception of flower tea, which should be put in after the pot is full); never ever use an infuser or a cheesecloth sachet; brew it not too dark and not too weak; warm your mugs; and don't forget it on the countertop to cool down and overbrew. I do this once a week. It's very wicked.

If you feel that your peace of mind will be materially disturbed by the non-addition of sugar, well, I suppose it's not for the pedants to decide for you. But, I mean, come on; after that, it tastes only like sugar. You aren't drinking tea gratia tea-is. If, ah, you see what I mean.

The fun part of the 'British tea ceremony' is the food. I think the comment 'Yaaaay scones!' might be appropriate at this point. I'm a scone purist, in practice if not particularly in principle; the thing I disapprove of is dried cranberries. They are so pointless. They're dry, sad, forlorn, tasteless. Anyways. Here are the keys to good scones, in order of importance.

1. Cold butter. Everyone's been told this many times for things from piecrusts to shortbread; it makes a difference. (Always. Use. Butter. 'Nuff said.)
2. Do not knead. Whatever the recipe says, don't knead the dough. Mix it with a wooden spoon until it comes together or just shy of it; quite a number of smidgens of flour can be left, unmoistened, at the bottom of the bowl. And even if the dough comes apart a bit when you're cutting it, it doesn't matter. Just squish them a little bit and place them on the baking sheet intact.
3. You really don't need to cut it the butter that finely. In other words, don't cut the butter up fine--or else. I find that a pastry cutter works wonders. If there are any heterogenous lumps, just break them up à la main.
4. Hot oven, cold dough. It's a pretty good rule of thumb for quick breads.
5. Do it by hand. With practice, there is no time loss, and you have that much more control over the forming of gluten and butter creaminess.
6. Finally, remember that your liquids have the major role in flavouring your scones. I use a beaten egg and skim milk. Cream will be richer. Buttermilk scones have a following. More eggy, less milky, whatever. Experiment a bit.

Next post, I'll explain a bit about my favourite meal to put together, because generally it only involves baking: a complete high tea.