As regular readers of the EclectEcon know, I am in Houston now, nanny-temping our most recent granddaughter. Last Sunday, I took the day off to do some shopping and some geocaching, and to take afternoon tea at the St. Regis Hotel.
Background: Last year was the first time I had ever gone to a posh place for a proper English afternoon tea. Over the course of the 2007 summer, I visited four different places in England and one in Canada. Here are links to my reviews from those outings, in chronological order:
- The Four Seasons, London, England
- The Royal Crescent Hotel, Bath
- The Pump Room, Bath
- Claridge's, London, England
- The Boathouse, Guelph, Canada
I phoned the St. Regis a day in advance and was fortunate to be able to obtain a reservation. When I arrived at the St. Regis, being too cheap to pay for valet parking, I drove past it, to the east on San Felipe St., and parked at what looks like a mostly unused plaza, which was completely empty on Sunday afternoon.
When I entered the hotel, I was immediately greeted and, upon my saying I had a reservation for afternoon tea, directed to the tea room.There was a little pre-printed sign on a welcoming table that said the afternoon tea for that day was completely booked up.
The tea room is nicely appointed with several low tables and a few higher tables. When I arrived, Charles (who provided impeccable service) was busy with a larger party, but as soon as he finished, he came to seat me.
Proper attire at the St. Regis is what they term "business casual". Because I came to Houston not expecting to dress up even that much, I was wearing beige cargo pants and a short-sleeved dress shirt. I had a hunch that Charles assumed I was there just to look around rather than for afternoon tea. But after I introduced myself [Dr. Palmer], I was seated next to a window, near the harpist, at what would have been a table for two.
After I was seated, the server came to explain the details of afternoon tea to me, as if I had never experienced one before. He began by suggesting that if I had plans for dinner, I should cancel them because there would be so much food. I then explained to him that I had taken afternoon tea at several different hotels in England and knew what to expect.
Nevertheless, he persisted and explained that even though the desserts would be on the 3-tiered server he would bring out, I should not start them until after he brought the scones, which would be served warm after I finished the tea sandwiches, which occupied the other two tiers.
Before he had a chance to recommend a tea for me, I asked if he had Lapsang Souchong tea, which has become a favourite of mine. The smokiness of the tea reminds me of LaPhroig scotch or perhaps some of the burley pipe tobacco I used to smoke 68 years ago.
When I requested that tea, I thought I detected a noticeable wince from the server, but he graciously acquiesced.
Tea at the St. Regis is served using loose tea and strainers. The tea is in the pot, loose, and the server keeps a close eye on the customer, quickly making sure s/he is there to refill the cup. Before the tea can become bitter, the server brings out a new pot, so leaving the tea loose in the pot works okay (despite what The Tea Party Girl might advise). In fact, they were much more attentive about this at the St. Regis than anywhere else I have been for afternoon tea.
Sandwiches at the St. Regis are quite artfully presented. The open-faced cucumber sandwich on white bread is done with short overlapping thin stripes of cucumbers. The smoked salmon was standard. The chicken salad was well-above average, on wheat bread. The other two sandwiches were quite special. One was alternating stripes of prosciutto and provolone, and the other was a mild gruyere cheese over a mild mustard-and-pimento paste on white bread. The sandwiches looked beautiful and were quite good. I thought that perhaps the bread could have been either more yuppie-healthy or thinner or something. It often seemed a bit too run-of-the-mill.
As soon as I finished the first plateful of sandwiches, Charles was there to whisk away my plate and set the second plate in front of me.
The harpist provided constant background music while I was there. Her repertoire consisted mainly of baroque music rearranged for harp and was pleasantly unobtrusive.
At about this point in the afternoon, Charles came out with some additional Lapsang Souchong tea wrapped in a cloth net. He presented it to me saying that when I fly home, I should ask the flight attendant for just hot water and use this for perhaps as many as five or six cups of tea. He guaranteed it would clear out the row, showing his own distaste for the amazing smoky aromas of Lapsang Souchong tea. My daughter-in-law, however, is quite eagre to try it herself, so I'll be leaving it in Houston for them.
Interestingly, one of the servers referred to the scones as [sk OH ns] and the other called the [sk AH ns] . However pronounced, the scones were served with a choice of strawberry jam, raspberry jam, or marmelade, all in small individual jars. Each one that was served also came with a huge dollop of whipped Devon cream, which is flown in from England five times a week.
The scone portion of the tea was slightly, but only slightly, disappointing. I am not all that keen on currant scones, but to get plain scones, one must request them a day in advance; I wish I had known. Currant scones sometimes create a sensation for me that they were nearly burned on the edges, and these were no exception. Also, the Devon cream was lacking in substance; I have a preference for the clotted cream served at several places in England. Surely if they can fly in Devon cream, they could fly in English clotted cream for those of us who would prefer it. The scones themselves (aside from the currants) were fine. They seemed fresh, and they were served warm, one at a time, which meant I was always being offered a warm scone, a serving style that was much appreciated.
At the beginning, Charles assured me that, "One way or another, you will leave with these desserts." What he meant was that if I was too full to eat them, he would put them in a box for me.
For some reason, I had been served two of each of the three desserts: key-lime-pie tart, a vanilla cream in a small cream puff, and glazed fresh fruit on a lemon chiffon base in a tart. I ate one of each of the desserts, and when I suggested I would take the others home to my son and his wife, Charles insisted that I should have a complete set for each of them and brought me two boxes, each with a set of three desserts in it.
I realize I might sound a bit picky in this review, but let me assure you that taking afternoon tea at the St. Regis was at least as nice as the afternoon tea I had at Claridge's last summer, and probably nicer. They know what they are doing, and they do it well.
If I have it to do again, though, I would eat much more slowly. The service was quite remarkable, but it was also remarkably quick in that the minute I finished a plate, another was placed in front of me. It was as if they needed the table or something, even though I was assured that they didn't. I had a tendency to eat and then want to rest and relax between courses, but in their haste to provide spot-on service, I didn't have that option. Next time I will eat each course slowly, doing my resting and relaxing during the course, or possibly before starting it.