Comment sought on fictional 1953 rural British hotel tea

[cimorene]

An order for tea was understood by this person to include a plate piled with bacon, eggs, sausages, tomatoes, and chips, three or four kinds of jam, scones, a heavy fruit cake, a loaf of bread, a dish of stewed fruit, and one of radishes.

— Georgette Heyer, Detection Unlimited (1953)

There is some context to this scene that I understand from other reading about the period - rationing, for example. And I've often come upon fictional hotels and pubs in the country serving much more generously than more urban and sophisticated visitors are used to.

But I don't really have a sense of how unusual this is - what a normal pub or hotel would serve for tea. I would have guessed a combination of something like beans, meat, or fish with bread and then scones or cakes, perhaps, but the beginning of this sounds more to me like an English breakfast than my understanding of a tea.

Also: is a dish of radishes just washed radishes for snacking? Or is it more slices with some kind of dressing? My parents were both fond of radishes and grew them in our garden, but I've never encountered the idea of a whole dish of them (and nothing else) on the table at a meal. (Recipes that include them, yes, but would you refer even to roasted radishes as "a dish of radishes"?)

Comments

[princessofgeeks]

I am no expert but I think this is a wildly overstated expectation for tea and is supposed to be quite funny.

Although I do know that in some parts of England "tea" can be a synonym for the evening meal; what I learned to call supper.

Some Brits of my acquaintance think of tea as an afternoon snack of any description. But not this elaborate, no.

I am not familiar with the radishes thing.

[cimorene]

Oh, this isn't expectation, this is the cook serving way more food than the customer expected. I have encountered tea as a 5 pm meal in books before of course, but I am pretty sure in this case they will still be eating supper later in the evening (albeit a smaller supper).

[stranger]

One question here, since I haven't read the book in, well, decades, is whether the person who expected the laden plate plus radishes actually was served them, or if the hotel brought out little sandwiches and pastries instead? (Also, I think PoG is right that some parts of Britain called the sustaining evening meal "tea," which could add regionalism or classism to the joke. Heyer did use both at times.)

And... food rationing was still (to some extent) in effect in 1953, in Britain, though some writers' characters willy-nilly enjoyed 1930s plenty even within post-war narratives.

[cimorene]

This isn't expectation at all! This is the cook's idea of a tea, surprising the customer (the detective).

I checked on the extent of rationing because it came up in the book as humor - a couple of the Scotland Yard lot complaining at the evident violation of it, the other asking why he's complaining when he gets to eat the bacon. According to Wikipedia, meat was the only remaining rationed item in '53, so this meal's heavy serving of bacon and sausage getting the other guy's back up makes sense.

[isilya]

Difference between afternoon tea (small sandwiches, cake, scones, biscuits) and high tea, which was basically a farmer’s/laborer’s (early) dinner (sausage rolls, cold and potted meat, fruit cake, apple pie, cheese, bread and butter).

In recent years “high tea” has been co-opted to mean “very fancy afternoon tea with tiered platters and finger food”, but its origins were working class and the “high” referred to the table itself.

So which “tea” the hotel and customer are serving or expecting to be served basically depends on their respective class. However nowhere would serve bacon, beans, fried eggs etc for tea (hard boiled eggs and egg sandwiches yes) so this person is being wildly outré no matter what.

A dish of radishes is a dish of raw, washed radishes, sometimes sliced but usually small and whole, served with salt and possibly butter.

[isilya]

There are tons of references to high tea (and radishes!) in Enid Blyton books, usually set & written 1930s-1950s

Winkle-Pip Walks Out:

‘I think I’ll have a big chocolate cake, a jelly with sliced pears in it, a dozen little ginger cakes, some ham sandwiches, some fresh lettuce and radishes, and some raspberries and cream,’ decided Winkle. ‘That would make a simply glorious tea!’

"Six Cousins Again":

Melisande looked with pleasure at the pretty tea-cloth, the plates with lace mats on them, and the silver teapot. It was a long time since she had seen such a dainty meal. She compared it with Mistletoe Farm—the big cloth that entirely covered the table and so soon got spotted—the great brown teapot—the plates covered with food, but with never a lace mat to grace them.
“It’s lovely to have things nice again,” she said. “I didn’t know how much I’d missed all this kind of thing till I looked at this tea-table. It’s just like it used to be at Three Towers, before we lost everything in the fire.”
“Yes—I was afraid you wouldn’t like pigging it at Mistletoe Farm,” said her mother, sympathetically. “Well, dear, if it rests with me, we shall never ‘pig it’—we shall live as we used to live, even if we are in a much smaller place, and haven’t so many lovely things.”
Roderick was also surveying the table—but with very little pleasure. Silver teapots and lace mats meant nothing to him—what he noticed was the lack of food! Where was the dish of ham, the big fat scones, the great fruit cake, the round cream cheese, the big pats of butter that had always accompanied high tea at Mistletoe Farm? He was hungry, and didn’t much like the look of the plate of thin-cut bread-and-butter, and the biscuits and little buns on this tea-table. Why, he could eat the whole lot and still be hungry!

...

"I say—is this all there is to eat?”
“Roderick dear—you’re over-excited or something, I think,” said his mother, in a gentle voice. “What else should there be to eat at teatime?”
“Well—ham—or eggs—and a jolly big fruit cake—and some of that lovely cream cheese,” said Roderick, remembering all the things he had had at high-tea at Mistletoe Farm. “And perhaps sausage rolls—and pickles...”
“Pickles! Sausage rolls! At teatime!” said his mother. “Surely you didn’t have those things at Mistletoe Farm!”
“Yes, we did. Every single day,” said Roderick. “Didn’t we, Melisande?”
“Yes. You see, they had high tea there, Mother,” explained Melisande. “I suppose we’ll have afternoon tea and then dinner later—or supper?”
“Of course,” said her mother. “You’ll soon get used to it. We’ll simply have to get you back to proper ways again.”
Roderick looked very gloomy. “I don’t know how I’m going to last out till supper,” he said. “I’m always so hungry when I get back from school. Wouldn’t Daddy rather have high tea too? Won’t he be hungry when he comes in?”
“I suppose it wouldn’t be possible to have a more substantial sort of tea than this?” said Mr. Longfield to his wife. “Farming’s hungry work. I got used to a big meal about six o’clock or so, when I was farming up in Scotland.”
“I do hope you don’t expect me to do without all the nice ways I’ve been accustomed to,” said his wife, looking suddenly tearful. “After all—I’ve come to live in the country, when I much prefer the town. That’s a big thing for me to do. And if you want me to give up all the little ways I’ve been used to. . . .”

Five Go to Billycock Hill:

Tea was a merry meal, with Toby playing the fool, putting a spoonful of sifted sugar on the side of Anne’s plate to eat with her crisp radishes instead of salt, and offering the salt to George to eat with her strawberries.
Both girls were listening so intently to Cousin Jeff that they didn’t even notice what Toby had done, and he almost fell off his chair with laughing when he saw their faces. Salt with strawberries—ugh! Sugar and radishes—ugh!

[...]

They all sat down to tea, and the four visitors wished they had not had such a big lunch! A large ham sat on the table, and there were crusty loaves of new bread. Crisp lettuces, dewy and cool, and red radishes were side by side in a big glass dish. On the sideboard was an enormous cake, and beside it a dish of scones. Great slabs of butter and jugs of creamy milk were there, too, with honey and home-made jam.

[...]

‘Now we’ll all have tea—I’ve got it ready, hoping that everyone would be back in time from their extraordinary adventures!’ said Mrs Thomas. ‘I know Jeff and Ray must be starved—you look quite thin in the face, Jeff.’
They all sat round the big table. Toby next to his hero, Cousin Jeff. They gazed with pleasure at the food there—surely never, never had there been such a spread before!
‘Mother!’ said Toby, his eyes gleaming. ‘Mother, this isn’t a meal—it’s a BANQUET! Jeff—what will you have?’
‘Everything!’ said Jeff. ‘Some of every single thing. I’ll start with two boiled eggs, three slices of ham, two thick pieces of bread and butter, and some of that wonderful salad. My word, it’s almost worth being down that hole for ages to end up with a feast like this!’

[cimorene]

Those are fascinating! Children's literature does seem to spend more time on detailed descriptions of food, now I think about it.

[cimorene]

Oh, the class distinction, that's an enlightening point! The detective being served is of middle class background, but he is from Scotland Yard and has lived an urban life, whereas it makes sense in this rural setting that the pubs and hotel restaurants would understand tea to be a laborer's early dinner! The hotel's overly-generous cook is the one who came up with the sausages etc, and the book does mention that the hostelry has a reputation locally for being overly generous with food. (The 'this person' in the sentence is the cook, who is a comic stereotype character whom the detective later meets and finds to be foolish and unkempt because Georgette Heyer thinks classism about lower classes being unintelligent is hilarious.)