Scone spy’s Tea Time
The undercover cafe critic
Our currant agent heads for Glendoick.
I’M the first to moan about the state of the nation (you’ve probably gathered that by now) but there’s one development I’m really very keen on. Afternoon tea. Don’t you just love the way it’s become a bit of a thing and every Tom, Dick and Harry with a cafe is offering it these days?
It’s such a civilised way to spend an afternoon.
I’m on my way from Perth to Dundee. It’s not the most exciting of journeys. People hare along the road as if they’re all heading somewhere fantastically exciting. Bet they aren’t. I decide to stop off at Glendoick Garden Centre for a wander. I’ve heard good things about it.
And it is indeed a lovely garden centre, gift shop and – oh, happy day! – cafe.
I’m in the cafe before I can even say lucky me.
And, even better, they’re offering afternoon tea.
Well, why not? I can’t think of a better way to brighten up a tedious Tuesday. And at £6.95, it’s a bargain.
I even decide to throw in a cake or two for a friend who was supposed to be with me, but called off ill.
Scones and cakes can always make you feel better, can’t they?
One waitress takes my order. And another takes my drinks order.
And then I’m asked to
choose which cake I want.
It’s an unusual way of serving afternoon tea. The whole experience is about being spoiled, getting a lovely surprise delivered to your table, that you can then ooh and aah over. Still, it’s fine. Then a third member of the cafe team bursts out from the kitchen and asks if he can help me.
I like this man. I’m worried about him, though. He’s sort of extrovert and showbizzy. He seems to have missed his vocation, which is surely on the stage.
Maybe some am dram would help work off some energy?
Anyway, three of them end up serving me.
I feel like royalty. This is the life!
When my afternoon tea is brought over, it’s on a little tartan tray and looks rather splendid.
And I do like my scone. It’s a classic fruit, jam and cream combo.
The cafe has a lovely conservatory area for sitting in. I take some photos of my afternoon tea. For your benefit, obviously, readers.
But I can’t help overhearing a woman hiss to her husband: “I do wish people would eat their food and stop photographing it”. Look, lady, I’m a professional. She should try having a scone and chilling out a little bit. I’m sure it would do her good.
I give her my most winning smile and she smiles back in a bashful way.
Ooh, I’m such a charmer.