Eating everything in York

While we were in England over the Christmas holiday, we took the train to York to meet up with Julie, who I've known since we were 4 years old. She lives in London, so I get to see her only rarely. Though York isn't exactly halfway between us, it's the most attractive option for hanging out (sorry, Peterborough and Doncaster). And it was a good opportunity to eat.

First stop, while we were still in the railway station: the West Cornwall Pasty Co (warning: website is an impenetrable Flash nightmare). We were drawn in by the enormous pastries, but ended up ordering a lovely, warm Cumberland sausage bun.



And then Julie's train arrived, and we all set out into the cold, damp day to find Bettys.

One of the greatest misapprehensions about the English is that we spend a significant part of every day drinking tea and eating tiny, crustless sandwiches.

While it's true that My People do put away a fair amount of tea — in preparation for visiting my parents, The Boy and I have to increase our caffeine tolerance — the whole china-tea-service-and-dainty-cakes concept is a special event, not a daily occurrence.

But though English people have more important things to do than eat petits fours and sip Earl Grey every day, that's not to say they don't enjoy it, given the chance. Bettys, a 100-year-old chain of teashops local to Yorkshire, fulfills the need.

The York branch is the flagship, allegedly designed to resemble the Queen Mary. It's a good mix of solid brass and delicate stained glass, with huge wraparound windows, which are great when you're inside, staring at the long line of people waiting outside for a table.





Bettys menu is pretty extensive — everything from toasted teacakes to steak pie, with a wide variety of teas and coffees. We thought about doing the full-on afternoon tea (sandwiches, scones and clotted cream), but then Julie and I decided on the Yorkshire Rarebit (strong Cheddar and Yorkshire ale):



The Boy went for the bacon, Gruyère and Raclette rösti, creamy and sweet with a touch of smoky saltiness:



And then, because it's a Bettys thing: Fat Rascals.



They're scone-like, with raisins and candied fruit, and a face made of almonds and cherries. They're fabulous warm with butter. Here's a Fat Rascals recipe.



Finally, stuffed with cheese and Rascals, we stumbled back out into the gray, damp day, and strolled around York Minster. You want history? This version of the building was begun in 1080. The first church on the site was thrown together in 627. Old enough?



Oh look, more pasties.



Back in my day, pasties came in two styles: meat and potato or cheese and onion. Now you can get everything: pork and apple, balti chicken, something with feta (!?). The world has changed.

One last stop on the way back to York train station: Demijohn, which sells artisanal oils, spirits, vinegars and preserves siphoned out of ... well ...



We got to sample the sloe gin, which was berry-bitter, refreshing and warming.



And then back to the station for hugs goodbye and a train heading north and the realization that there was so much more food to discover.

Thanks for a fab day, Joolz!

Afternoon tea at the Taj

Time to burst a few bubbles.

When the English talk of "tea," they mean the hot beverage whose consumption follows any activity of moderate exertion.

(Where I grew up, tea was also the evening meal. Dinner was what you ate at noon.)

Hardly ever, though, does tea involve tiny sandwiches and clotted cream and daintycakes. This is a still-vivid misapprehension about life in England: that everyone stops work at 4 p.m. for a pot of tea and some delicate snacks.

In fact, most people are too busy for anything more than a quick cuppa and a couple of HobNobs.

So when we went to the Taj in Boston for afternoon tea to celebrate my birthday, it was as much of a novelty for me as for anyone else.

There were teeny-tiny open-face sandwiches with egg salad and prosciutto-melon:



Smoked salmon dolloped with chived cream cheese and caviar, and little lobster choux puffs:



And cucumber sandwiches, built from translucent layers of refreshing green crunchiness:



And then came dessert: scones with clotted cream and lemon curd,



Macaroons, opera cake, financier, and a lemon tart finished with gold leaf,



and a horribly out-of-season strawberry dipped in dark chocolate.



Oh, and there was tea, loose-leaf, served in individual pots that sat on handy warming plates. That too was a novelty; where I come from, you keep your tea warm with a tea-cozy.