The Not‑So‑Simple Pleasures of an Aristocratic Afternoon
The Not‑So‑Simple Pleasures of an Aristocratic Afternoon
Pimm’s Cups on the Thames
“Coronation chicken, my gran’s favorite,” my boyfriend said. On the tiered tray were the sandwiches: white bread with no crust, cut into perfect rectangles, filled but not overflowing with minced chicken, Indian spices, and mango.
We were sitting in the saloon of the S.L. Treatley, a Victorian steamboat on the River Thames in Windsor, U.K. It was the third day of festivities for a friend’s wedding and the hosts requested attendees dress with a certain sartorial splendor. The theme was “Henley Regatta,” after the famous Thames boat race. For women, that meant knee length dresses with a great hat or, in my case, a fascinator: a headpiece with feathers, a small veil, and tulle flower. Men were to wear a blue blazer, khaki slacks, bowtie or ascot, and a boater (hat). We were all, it appeared, playing the part of aristocrats, so it was fitting we were served afternoon tea.
The British custom of afternoon tea can be traced back to Anna, the seventh Duchess of Bedford, in the early nineteenth century. A selection of sandwiches, cakes, and tea were offered to sate her pre-dinner cravings. The light meal became a daily habit that she shared with others in her society set; hence, a tradition was born. Modern Brits rarely partake in the 4-5 o’clock meal. Usually most will simply have a cup of tea and a biscuit or wait to have dinner. However, the ritual of a full afternoon tea persists as a favorite for tourists or those with a nostalgic bent.
On the boat there were cucumber sandwiches, ham and cheese sandwiches, brownies, red velvet cake, carrot cake, strawberry shortcake, and trays of other delectables that I didn’t have the chance to sample. This was a wedding celebration, after all. The ship’s catering staff did an excellent job of refilling the delicate china cups with hot tea and topping off flutes of champagne. If this was how the other half lived, it seemed easy to get used to.
The trip up the river ended too soon, with party guests disembarking at the pier of the Oakley Court, formerly a stately manor home and now a swanky boutique hotel. Movie aficionados might recognize the mansion from the Bray horror films or from the camp classic, The Rocky Horror Picture Show.
The hotel is like so many an aristocrat, a veneer of wealth and tradition paired with an eccentric second life. Reluctant to give up the charade, the party guests sat in the hotel conservatory sipping Pimm’s cups as we waited for rides back to London.