A Tea Room in Dural

Up north in Dural, one is just getting into the rural hill district; it is a mixture of older fruit and veggie farms, large estates, pretentious homes, and little village centers with nurseries, boutiques...and tea rooms. 

I kept driving by one when taking TJ to Redfield; I couldn't figure it out. It looked like a small nursery, but the little house said "Tea Room." Like those Australian things that don't always compute, I first ignored it and then started thinking about it.

One of the things I do love about Australian culture is "Morning Tea" or "Tea"--which is a Hobbit-like affair, a time of social refreshment--real refreshment, with biscuits (what Americans would call 'cookies'), scones (skawnes), fruit, small sandwiches (oh yes, cucumber), and cakes. And for Australians, chocolate...almost always chocolate. There seems to be a national love affair with chocolate. 

It was fun to have orientation at the schools and be treated to "Tea" with the other parents; here, "Would you like to have a tea?" is not a sort of attempt to feel more like one is in an Austen flick (which is fun anyway)--it is a ritual that has roots, deep roots, and is a normal part of life.

I found this info on the origins of this ritual online on "Tea Muse":

"...the most important time for tea was after the main meal of the day. In the mid-17th century, dinner was served at any time between 11 am and 12 noon and was a rich, heavy, alcoholic meal that lasted for anything up to 3 or 4 hours. Once all the food had been devoured, the men liked to stay at the table in the dining room and smoke, chat, and drink more wine, ale, brandy or port. (It was not uncommon for men to drink so much in those days that they ended up under the table in a drunken stupor!) So the ladies were expected to withdraw to a smaller closet or boudoir to talk more quietly, sew, brew tea, and generally behave in a more elegant way than their menfolk. When, at about 5 or 6 pm, the men eventually decided that they had had enough of their smoking, drinking, and loud conversation, they would join the ladies for tea in the drawing room or closet. Sometimes they also played cards or listened to some form of musical entertainment until a light supper was served and the guests then departed.

"Taking tea was always associated with elegant rooms set well away from the kitchen, with fine porcelain tea wares, silver spoons, sugar nippers, and kettles, with beautiful tables carved by craftsmen, and with the elegant manners of society ladies - as it was through the Victorian period and still is today. The brewing of the liquor was always the responsibility of the lady of the house (or gentleman if he lived alone), sometimes with the help of the eldest daughter, and was carried out in the room where the tea was to be served. Today of course we brew our tea in the kitchen but it is still the duty of the hostess to pour and serve it. Usually, the only food to be served to accompany the tea was very thin slices of bread and butter. That has developed, of course, into a more elaborate menu but bread, toast, muffins, tea-cakes, crumpets and other bread-like foods are still a very important part of a traditional tea. And, the most important time of day for drinking tea was in the late afternoon - in the early days at the end of the main meal, but (as we all now know) in the 19th century and today between lunch and dinner.

"And it really was more of a social event than a meal. Ladies did not go to afternoon tea gatherings to eat but to meet their friends, catch up on gossip, chat about the latest fashions and scandals, be seen in the right places among the right people and, in passing, to drink tea and nibble daintily on a small finger of bread and butter or a little sweet biscuit."

So, I've gone on little Tea Trips. Not drug trips, field trips, though I suppose if you drink enough tea it starts being a drug trip. I've been to the Queen Victoria Building, and back to my favorite 'inn' in downtown Sydney. And finally, I did stop at the strange conglomeration of plants and tea in Dural.

The surroundings were rural, and simple, with an 'invisible fence' van in the back, and parking down a grassy road. The plants were not arranged in barracks or quonset huts; efficiency and plant survival was not the organizing principle, but rather the delight of the eye. This is possible in this climate. I knew there was an artist at work here, and when I opened the door of the simple house, it was if there was another world created: beautifully painted black wood floors, tiered tea trays, gilded chairs in rich colors; huge mirrors set against the wall, flowers arranged expertly.

And it was full. There were tables full of Dural ladies. They didn't appear like ladies at first, because Australians place a great emphasis on not looking richer or better-dressed than others; casual dress seems to be a social statement about absolute equality. But if one looked closely, their hair was done really well, complete with that stripey stuff; nails were done in French manicures; their purses were well-made leather, and they spoke quietly, and laughed musically. They were not boisterous yahoos, anyway.

We sat and had tea, relaxing and talking alongside the tables of ladies, and just outside the banquet room which looked out across a green field. The meeting taking place in there was comprised of men and women, but it was such a calm affair that they almost looked as if they were just drinking tea and just looking kindly, intently, at each other without speech. It was so different from the energy of Power Breakfasts held in diners across America. I have found in Australia that there is a kind of reserve, a calmness in certain situations, less intensity, more a submissive unity within a group, a working together quietly. 

I had Bard's Tempest tea (my favorite along with Harney and Sons) and we shared a gluten-free orange cake with cream. As we paid with our yellow, blue, and orange bills, and gold dollar coins, I gushed at the lady behind the counter, who reluctantly admitted to being the artist behind this delightful beauty in Dural.

For me, the flowers and plants, fountains, quiet talk, and good tea was like a little slice of heaven. Another great memory to pack away, to take out and feel the warmth of in times of cacophony and stress: well, that is the point of "Tea," isn't it?