If there’s one thing I recommend in life, it’s to surround yourself with people who are classier than you. People who will force you to go to the opera, for instance, so that you can feel like you don’t have a cultured bone in your body and aren’t even sure how to properly shout words of encouragement after a performance.
Or people who are so particular about where they have tea that they will drive a full two hours to a special tea room just to have it there.
But they sell books like this there, so it’s worth it.
I have a friend named Katrina who is the closest thing to a mythical being that I’ve ever known (besides my father. Hi Dad!). Katrina will float into a room in flowing lace dresses and stripy socks. Katrina will bring her own tablecloth to a Panera Bread to class up her meal and protect her board games from surface residue. Katrina’s apartment is a greenhouse with taxidermy thrift store finds and moon sigils. Katrina may be an actual witch.
And Katrina loves tea just as much as I do, which is why we went out and had some as fancily as we could. I threw on the most intricate outfit I could, which happened to be almost entirely white, and this was good because Katrina’s outfit was almost entirely black and we looked like chess pieces.
Fancy chess pieces.
Tea was at Teaberry’s, a tea room in a restored Victorian home, and every inch of it was covered in tea-related decorations.
Teaberry’s seats you at an elegant table, and gives you a charming teacup and a beautiful menu, and lets you be completely overwhelmed by the variety of tea available to you. That first page of the full-sized menu is all tea, and only the beginning. After perusing the intimidating options (“Teaberry’s Black Rosehip Almond-Infused 417 Year Old Ginger-Spiced Ming Dynasty Loose-Leaf Chai”), I settled for something that was probably “Black tea, no spices.” I’m not adventurous.
We also ordered soup and mini sandwiches, because mini sandwiches are The Law in a tea house.
The soup is also served in a teacup. No two teacups are alike here.
The variety mini sandwich pack. Every mini sandwich you could every want with your tea. Also mini quiche.
Looking around, at least half of the other guests had attempted a garden party outfit or at least their Sunday best. A few men even had top hats, though I’m not certain if they borrowed them from Teaberry’s itself. In fact, in the middle of the meal, Katrina looked at me and said very firmly, “While you’re here, be sure to visit the bathroom. It’s worth it.”
The bathroom was worth it.
I already have far too many hats of my own, but I considered trying to smuggle a few out under my dress.
With the overwhelming amount of options available, we ended up packing most of our meal home, and Katrina grabbed a blueberry scone to go, because scones in a tea room are also The Law.
Teaberry’s also has a separate gift shop where you can spend an outrageous amount of money on tea-related things you never knew you needed, like the aforementioned Shades of Earl Grey. I bought nothing only because I had just spent all my money on my meal, and besides, I really didn’t need a twelfth teacup for my room.
Not at $25, at least.