We had cafe au lait, caffe con panna and champagne, but the magic of an English high tea — like they write about in novels — eluded us. This pie, however, is a satisfying substitute.
Our trip to Europe got off to a troubled start.
My sister, Kathy, was always a great reader, even as a young child, and she relished in the stories about “faraway places with strange sounding names.” She was a smart little cookie and, among others, loved books by Noel Streatfeild, Charles Dickens, Raphael Sabatini, Alexandre Dumas, Emily and Charlotte Bronte, Jane Austen (especially Jane Austen). She tried mightily to get me to read most of those same titles, but mostly — because, fancying myself a writer, I was more interested in American literature and, honestly, because I was stubborn — I didn’t. I loved Louisa May Alcott and Mark Twain and L.M. Montgomery (not American, but American-adjacent) and Bess Streeter Aldrich.
I did, however, become captivated by the little English girls in the novels of Francis Hodgson Burnett: Mary Lennox, the plain, lonely orphan who bloomed in “The Secret Garden” and Sara Crewe, “A Little Princess” who lived in an attic and befriended a monkey and a mouse and had a beautiful doll with a wardrobe and a pudgy friend named Ermengarde. (I thought that a very strange name but at some point the slightly delinquent boys who lived across the street called me that. I don’t know why as, to this day, I can’t believe any of the three of them ever read anything as lovely as “A Little Princess.”)
One night, Sara Crewe did the most English activity, the one thing that enchanted my sister and myself alike. She had a tea party: “Imagine, if you can, what the rest of the evening was like. How they crouched by the fire which blazed and leaped and made so much of itself in the little grate. How they removed the covers of the dishes, and found rich, hot, savory soup, which was a meal in itself, and sandwiches and toast and muffins for both of them . … and the tea was so delicious that it was not necessary to pretend that it was anything but tea.”
"... the tea was so delicious that it was not necessary to pretend that it was anything but tea.” — Frances Hodgson Burnett
When Kathy and I started talking about making that trip to Europe, now more than eight years ago, there were things we wanted to see: the Eiffel Tower and Notre Dame, the Colosseum, a play in London, a glimpse of the Mona Lisa, chocolate in the Alps, the place where the beautiful “Anne of A Thousand Days” lost her life. We decided to take a bus tour so some of those things, most of them in fact, were on a predetermined itinerary, but we were also allowed moments — sometimes hours — of unstructured time that were ours to fill. So we revisited our list and elevated a couple items: Tea in London, like Sara Crewe, and watching the morning unroll in the City of Lights as we sipped café au lait by the Seine.
However, the morning our plane was scheduled to leave Denver, Kathy woke up with a violent intestinal virus, complete with all the nasty symptoms that conjures in your mind. Rescheduling this trip wasn’t really a viable option, so she rushed to urgent care where the doctor told her that a quick-hit mischief maker was steamrolling its way through Fort Collins and that she was likely to feel better in 24 to 48 hours. “I’ve seen lots of people with this bug,” he said, “but none of them were on their way to Europe.” He gave her some super drugs to ease the symptoms, and we headed to the airport.
When we got to DIA, a disembodied voice over an intercom told us that our flight to London had been cancelled. After making my way to the front of the re-ticketing line, the lady behind the counter said the plane had some mechanical failures and we would have to be booked on a different journey. We spent that night, a short night, in Washington, D.C., where Kathy got a little time to regroup. We touched down at Heathrow just as the sun was setting on the first day of our holiday.
The next day, our only day in London, we had lunch at the Tower of London, where Kathy had some kind of soup, and I ate cheese croquettes and cupcakes with crowns and Limonata. That evening, as we reached the 48 hour mark, Kathy was feeling better but weary, so we ate at a pub in our hotel. Kathy ordered vegetable soup, which turned out to be, like, every type of root vegetable put in a blender until it was the consistency of baby food and then heated to steaming. I had fish and chips and then ordered cappuccino for dessert, at which point Kathy declared herself cured and joined me for a “not tea” London nightcap.
Quite frankly, we did not have tea in London.
We did, however, have café au lait at a little restaurant by the Seine.
We also had coffee and chocolate on a patio on the top of Mt. Stansserhorn in the Alps, and a cappuccino from a street cart on a boardwalk in Lucerne. We ate pizza in a truck stop somewhere on the side of a highway in Italy where the big burly truckers drank their espresso in tiny china cups. We sipped champagne on a gondola in Venice, enjoyed caffe con panna on the Piazza del Signoria in Florence and licked lemon double-dips from a gelateria in an alley in Rome. We had chocolate mousse at the Moulin Rouge and chocolate-smothered waffles at the top (well, not top, but way up there) of the Eiffel Tower.
But sadly, no tea in London.
That, I guess, must wait for another trip.
The Pie
This pie — I’m calling it “English High Tea Pie” — is an homage to things still to come, the magic of a transformative piece of literature and my nephew, Sam Stephenson, who — more than anyone I know — embraces that transformation. Plus, he enjoys a good “cuppa.” (That’s what they call a cup of tea on “Call the Midwife,“ a thoroughly lovely and thoroughly English delight on PBS.)
Sam runs a nonprofit, Converge, that promotes literature and beauty and community. It began about four years ago as a lecture series, bringing important voices to Colorado Springs, and then the following year, it added a fellowship program for local high school students. Since the beginning of the pandemic, it has had to transform. Because writers can’t (or shouldn’t) travel and can’t speak to large groups of people packed in close quarters, Converge launched a book club in which it sends books and other goodies —candles, cookies, “love letters,” tea — to subscribers. The tea blends are created by a woman in Taos, N.M., who Sam met on a recent getaway and who attempts to connect the tea to something significant in the books.
The original recipe for this pie is made with Earl Grey tea. I am not a tea drinker, always preferring coffee if I have my say, but I do know Earl Grey is a popular choice in coffee shops and restaurants. It is named for Charles Grey, 2nd Earl Grey, British prime minister in the 1830s. It is a black tea flavored with bergamot, an oil extracted from the fruit of the Seville orange tree. “Grey,” however, doesn’t have a very appetizing connection to food (unless of course, you’re a Disney candlestick — “try the gray stuff; it’s delicious”), so I chose a Converge tea instead, which made a soft taupe filling. I think you could use whichever tea blend speaks to you.
I steeped Fall Fig tea in the milky filling, poured it over a sweet sugar cookie crust, piped whipped cream on top, and decorated it with cinnamon and a beautiful dried fig. Rich and delicious.
The recipe
English High Tea Pie
2 ½ cups whole milk
3 bags Fall Fig tea (or the tea blend of your choice)
4 large egg yolks
½ cup sugar
3 tablespoons corn starch, packed
½ teaspoon salt
2 tablespoons unsalted butter, room temperature
1 sugar cookie pie crust
Homemade whipped cream
Bring the milk to a simmer in a small saucepan over medium heat. Stir constantly so the milk doesn’t scorch or stick to the bottom of the pan, about 10 minutes. Remove from heat and add the tea bags. Set aside and let the tea steep for at least 30 minutes. The longer you steep the tea, the bolder the flavor of the pie filling.
Remove the tea bags after the milk has cooled down and whisk in the egg yolks.
In a medium pan, whisk together sugar, salt and cornstarch.
Whisk the milk into the sugar mixture until there are no lumps. Cook over medium heat, whisking constantly, until the mixture comes to a low simmer and begins to thicken, about 8 minutes. Continue cooking, whisking constantly to prevent scorching, until the mixture begins to boil, about 1 minute. Let it boil for a full minute, whisking constantly, then remove from heat.
Add the butter and whisk until it is completely melted and the mixture is smooth.
Pour the mixture into a prebaked sugar cookie crust. While the filling is still hot, cover with plastic wrap. This should prevent a film from forming on the filling. Refrigerate until the filling is set, at least 4 hours.
Before serving, remove from refrigerator and top with homemade whipped cream.
Sugar Cookie Crust
1 stick (½ cup) unsalted butter, room temperature
½ cup sugar
¼ teaspoon salt
1 large egg
1 ½ cup all-purpose flour
With an electric mixer, cream together the butter, salt and sugar, until the mixture is light and fluffy, about 3 minutes.
Add the egg. Mix until the egg is fully incorporated, about 2 minutes.
Add the flour, ¼ cup at a time, mixing until everything comes together. Form the dough into a ball, wrap in plastic and refrigerate for 30 to 60 minutes.
Roll out the dough until it is ¼-inch thick and place in a 9-inch pie plate. Prick the bottom and sides with a fork. Chill in the freezer until completely frozen, about 20 minutes.
Remove from the freezer. Line the crust with aluminum foil or parchment and fill with pie weights. (You can also use dry beans or coins.) Bake in an oven preheated to 325 degrees until the sides are golden brown, 15-20 minutes. Remove the foil and pie weights and bake another five minutes. (You can cover the edges with foil if it is browning too quickly.) Let cool completely before filling.
Homemade Whipped Cream
1 cup heavy cream or whipping cream
3 tablespoons powdered sugar
1 teaspoon vanilla extract
Combine ingredients in a bowl and mix with an electric mixer until it has doubled in size and has become thick enough to form peaks and stick to the beaters, about 3 minutes. If you don’t have powdered sugar, you can use granulated sugar. It tastes just as good, but it doesn’t get thick as quickly. Do not beat too long or it will turn into butter. You can add cinnamon if you’d like, but I chose instead to sprinkle cinnamon on the top of the whipped cream once I had piped the cream on the pie.
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