I would like to RSVP for the Kitchen Tea. Also, forgive me for asking a silly question- but what exactly is a kitchen tea?
Naturally I thought it would be a Kiwi thing because the bride is from New Zealand, but then I got the impression it was an English thing. So I asked my coworker.
“No, definitely not. I think it’s an Australian thing.”
“Nevah heard of it,” my Aussie friends replied. “Is it an American thing?”
“Definitely not!” I confirmed. If it were an American thing it would be called a Kitchen Soda and it would have unlimited crushed ice, the kind of which my dad consumes like oxygen.
No one really claimed ownership of the idea but I learnt that traditionally a kitchen tea is meant to supply the bride with kitchen related gifts. It’s usually held at someone’s house and is a little less dressy than a high tea or day at the horse races.
The afternoon started with sparkling wine at home in Mosman. I didn’t know this until I stepped off the city bus, but Mosman is a very posh neighborhood in Sydney. Suddenly my jeans and sandals didn’t feel quite as dress casual as I had imagined.
I walked up to a three-story house and took the stairs (instead of the elevator) to the third floor. The living room was divided from the kitchen by a glass-enclosed infinity pool and had a stunning view of Middle Harbour. The balcony was also at the same height as the eucalypt canopy. When a late afternoon storm came rolling in, there were amazing views of the lightning.
It was hard not to be influenced by the beautiful home; everyone’s accent seemed a bit posher and their appetites a bit more dainty.
As I talked my right hand tapped the top of my champagne glass.
“Oh, you’ve had quite a few of those!”
“Yes,” I replied, “but I’m gunna have one more.” The Tasmanian champagne was delicious. “I’m also gunna have s’more of that cheese.”
I just can’t help myself sometimes.