New Zealand Pavlova

The happy tune of china cups Softly chattering on the silver tray And then the glow as they sat in the sunlight Flashing their golden smiles In the kitchen the kettle whistled a summons To chide a tardy hostess

The leaves fluttered down like butterflies Into the welcoming pot Bubbling water gushed from the spout To embrace the leaves in the pot There they cuddled in comfortable congress while scones appeared from the oven To exhale on a delicate dish

The jam and the cream in their crystal bowls Suffered to be seated on the table With knife and spoon in respectful attendance Awaiting the cheerful guests

Then arrived pot and guests in momentary confusion 'Till the tea was poured amid appropriate comments And the serious business of partying began.

from Sanndi Thompson

Q: Who introduced you to the "tradition" of Afternoon Tea?

A: I would love to say that my first tea memories came from my maternal grandmother at whose home I whiled away many a magical afternoon, playing tea party with my dolls and stuffed animals as Mumsy baked Scottish scones and cut the crusts off my Nutella and honey sandwiches. Alas, I was a tomboy who chose playing sports with the boys instead of dolls with the girls, and so my introduction to tea was forestalled until my teen years.

I’d just arrived in England for the first time. We got in very late at night and awakened to an early tour of the Tower of London and Crown Jewels. Pretty neat, eh? Well, my boycrazy friend and I had different ideas. We ditched the tour, conquered the Tube transport system, and whisked off to Wimbledon with visions of meeting hunky tennis players. When we arrived, we were astonished to find out that we weren’t allowed in ... the matches long having been sold out. I was nearly distraught, as I’d grown up with a bucket list desire to have strawberries and cream at Wimbledon. When I queried the polite tickettaker as to where we may be able to acquire the coveted berries and cream, he suggested The Ritz. When we arrived, they were serving afternoon tea. “But I don’t drink tea,” I protested. Nonetheless, I bit the bullet and we sat down. Little did I know what I was in for—an experience that would change my entire lifestyle. So my first afternoon tea was at The Ritz. My first afternoon tea in America is a story in and of itself...