Here, at long last, is the post I promised ages ago, when I wrote about what the English mean by teatime.
I must start with a confession: I am not a coffee connoisseur by any means. I have always been an instant drinker (and by that I don't mean that I down my coffee quickly - I mean I drink that stuff that serious coffee drinkers wouldn't touch even if they were desperate) and in my youth I favoured what my friends referred to as "babies' coffee" - weak instant with lots of sugar and lots of milk. My biggest treat was if it was made with hot milk instead of hot water - I guess in today's terminology that kind of makes it a latte, only a not very high-quality latte...
But I digress. I was going to talk about what happens in England. Part of my culture shock on arriving here was on the coffee front, because back then - nearly two decades ago - they just didn't seem to have anything remotely approaching a decent cup of coffee. Not, as I've pointed out, that my standards were very high, which says a great deal about the low level to which the coffee here had sunk. And as an Israeli I still find it funny now the way the Brits tend to assume that you will drink tea - the more old-fashioned the person, the more likely they are to make this assumption. They won't ask you what you'd like to drink, they'll just talk about "putting the kettle on" and making "a nice cuppa", and they simply won't think of checking with you whether you actually want any tea.
In Israel we tend to make a similar assumption about coffee - in many an Israeli home when you walk in the door you are greeted not with "what would you like to drink?" (not that we have a way of saying that in Hebrew - we'd say "what do you want to drink?", which to the English ear may sound just a tad gruff...) but the question will be "coffee?" But at least, in our defence, I can say that we do actually ask! And if someone were to say, "actually I'd rather have tea" then we would find a teabag somewhere in a dusty corner of our kitchen. Even my Brazilian friend in Kfar Saba, who pretty much has coffee running through her veins instead of blood, is perfectly capable of rustling up a cup of tea for me. But here there seems to be some hard and fast rules that people don't even think about - it seems from my observation of the Brits that if you arrive any time in the afternoon, the drink you'd be offered is tea. Coffee is for mid-mornings, or elevenses; or as an after-dinner drink. It just isn't something you drink in the afternoons.
Unless, that is, you go to a coffee shop. That's where in the last decade or so the Brits have been practising American-style behaviour, ordering tall skinny lattes and short decaff mochas as though they've always done it. I well remember the beginning of the American-style coffee shop era - I was living and working in London at the time, and right next door to our office there was a bookshop which started running a coffee shop in a corner, and the coffee was so delicious it quickly became our regular morning treat, grabbing a latte in a disposable cup on our way in to work. It was so popular in our firm that one of the partners managed to arrange a staff discount for us. Not surprising when all we had in the office in terms of coffee was a kettle and a jar of instant. I get the impression that Americans would have gone on strike over such bad working conditions... (But from what I remember from my Israeli working days, all we tended to have in the office was a kettle and a jar of instant - except in some places where due to popular demand there was also a packet of Turkish Coffee, which was used to make what we call "mud coffee". We call it that because there's this huge amount of mud-coloured sediment at the bottom of the mug.)
The Brits may correct me, but I have the feeling the word "coffee shop" arrived with that trend from across the ocean. I think until then there were only cafés, where you could get a not-particularly-brilliant coffee if you asked for it, but also tea of course, and light eats.
And then there is the different kind of café, which is pronounced "caff" - sometimes referred to fondly as a "greasy caff" or a "greasy spoon" (short for "greasy-spoon café) - which is really a basic down-to-earth restaurant where the plebs can go for a meal and feel at home, and the not-so-plebs go to enjoy the sort of food that the posh restaurants wouldn't dream of serving, even in an ironic post-modern style. This is where you can get the great British all-day-breakfast, which consists of bacon and eggs plus all sorts of possible additions: grilled tomatoes, fried mushrooms, sausages, baked beans, fried bread, and one of my favourite things: bubble and squeak, which I've been told was traditionally made of leftovers from Sunday lunch, and like so many dishes that developed as an attempt by poor people to make the food go just a bit further, is so much nicer than some of the super-duper gourmet food! In my single days in London, before I learned to cook and before I made the decision to stop eating pig, I used to sometimes go to one of those greasy caffs on a Sunday after church for a belated breakfast (never had time to eat before church, me being not very much of a morning person). These meals are obviously not what the health food brigade would recommend - some have referred to them as "cholesterol on a plate" - but they are certainly very filling! (and if you're on Atkins or any low-carb diet, then you can go for it with no qualms at all...)
So if you come to England and you see what looks like a no-frills restaurant offering "all day breakfast", "cooked breakfast", or "English breakfast", this is what they mean. You won't get any croissants there, that's for sure! (And don't expect a decent cup of coffee in there either. They'll do you a mug of what's fondly called "builders' tea" - so strong you can stand your spade in it... If you want a decent coffee, look for a smart place with a name that seems American. I shudder to think what reaction you'd get if you walked into a greasy caff and asked for a tall skinny latte... I expect the response would be along the lines of "you wot?")
I must start with a confession: I am not a coffee connoisseur by any means. I have always been an instant drinker (and by that I don't mean that I down my coffee quickly - I mean I drink that stuff that serious coffee drinkers wouldn't touch even if they were desperate) and in my youth I favoured what my friends referred to as "babies' coffee" - weak instant with lots of sugar and lots of milk. My biggest treat was if it was made with hot milk instead of hot water - I guess in today's terminology that kind of makes it a latte, only a not very high-quality latte...
But I digress. I was going to talk about what happens in England. Part of my culture shock on arriving here was on the coffee front, because back then - nearly two decades ago - they just didn't seem to have anything remotely approaching a decent cup of coffee. Not, as I've pointed out, that my standards were very high, which says a great deal about the low level to which the coffee here had sunk. And as an Israeli I still find it funny now the way the Brits tend to assume that you will drink tea - the more old-fashioned the person, the more likely they are to make this assumption. They won't ask you what you'd like to drink, they'll just talk about "putting the kettle on" and making "a nice cuppa", and they simply won't think of checking with you whether you actually want any tea.
In Israel we tend to make a similar assumption about coffee - in many an Israeli home when you walk in the door you are greeted not with "what would you like to drink?" (not that we have a way of saying that in Hebrew - we'd say "what do you want to drink?", which to the English ear may sound just a tad gruff...) but the question will be "coffee?" But at least, in our defence, I can say that we do actually ask! And if someone were to say, "actually I'd rather have tea" then we would find a teabag somewhere in a dusty corner of our kitchen. Even my Brazilian friend in Kfar Saba, who pretty much has coffee running through her veins instead of blood, is perfectly capable of rustling up a cup of tea for me. But here there seems to be some hard and fast rules that people don't even think about - it seems from my observation of the Brits that if you arrive any time in the afternoon, the drink you'd be offered is tea. Coffee is for mid-mornings, or elevenses; or as an after-dinner drink. It just isn't something you drink in the afternoons.
Unless, that is, you go to a coffee shop. That's where in the last decade or so the Brits have been practising American-style behaviour, ordering tall skinny lattes and short decaff mochas as though they've always done it. I well remember the beginning of the American-style coffee shop era - I was living and working in London at the time, and right next door to our office there was a bookshop which started running a coffee shop in a corner, and the coffee was so delicious it quickly became our regular morning treat, grabbing a latte in a disposable cup on our way in to work. It was so popular in our firm that one of the partners managed to arrange a staff discount for us. Not surprising when all we had in the office in terms of coffee was a kettle and a jar of instant. I get the impression that Americans would have gone on strike over such bad working conditions... (But from what I remember from my Israeli working days, all we tended to have in the office was a kettle and a jar of instant - except in some places where due to popular demand there was also a packet of Turkish Coffee, which was used to make what we call "mud coffee". We call it that because there's this huge amount of mud-coloured sediment at the bottom of the mug.)
The Brits may correct me, but I have the feeling the word "coffee shop" arrived with that trend from across the ocean. I think until then there were only cafés, where you could get a not-particularly-brilliant coffee if you asked for it, but also tea of course, and light eats.
And then there is the different kind of café, which is pronounced "caff" - sometimes referred to fondly as a "greasy caff" or a "greasy spoon" (short for "greasy-spoon café) - which is really a basic down-to-earth restaurant where the plebs can go for a meal and feel at home, and the not-so-plebs go to enjoy the sort of food that the posh restaurants wouldn't dream of serving, even in an ironic post-modern style. This is where you can get the great British all-day-breakfast, which consists of bacon and eggs plus all sorts of possible additions: grilled tomatoes, fried mushrooms, sausages, baked beans, fried bread, and one of my favourite things: bubble and squeak, which I've been told was traditionally made of leftovers from Sunday lunch, and like so many dishes that developed as an attempt by poor people to make the food go just a bit further, is so much nicer than some of the super-duper gourmet food! In my single days in London, before I learned to cook and before I made the decision to stop eating pig, I used to sometimes go to one of those greasy caffs on a Sunday after church for a belated breakfast (never had time to eat before church, me being not very much of a morning person). These meals are obviously not what the health food brigade would recommend - some have referred to them as "cholesterol on a plate" - but they are certainly very filling! (and if you're on Atkins or any low-carb diet, then you can go for it with no qualms at all...)
So if you come to England and you see what looks like a no-frills restaurant offering "all day breakfast", "cooked breakfast", or "English breakfast", this is what they mean. You won't get any croissants there, that's for sure! (And don't expect a decent cup of coffee in there either. They'll do you a mug of what's fondly called "builders' tea" - so strong you can stand your spade in it... If you want a decent coffee, look for a smart place with a name that seems American. I shudder to think what reaction you'd get if you walked into a greasy caff and asked for a tall skinny latte... I expect the response would be along the lines of "you wot?")
