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May. 13th, 2012 11:31 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
pantryslutYesterday I had tea at Tal y Tara. It was kind of an adventure; fortunately, ultimately the good kind.
I was having a bit of a stressful day yesterday, for a variety of reasons. The result of which was that I landed a migraine in the mid-afternoon. I lay down to try to dispel it and got about halfway when it was time to get up and go to tea. This was going to be my Mother's Day tea. We'd decided not to make reservations in part because we weren't sure of our timing. I really wanted to go, so I risked climbing into a car to drive to the Richmond district from Oakland with an ebbing headache. This was perhaps not the smartest move ever.
I don't throw up and the headache only gets a little worse by the time we make it all the dang way to the foggy, foggy Richmond. Fog is good because it means less sunlight which means less pain behind my eyes. Steven lets me out at the little shop's huge barn door and sets off to find a place to park.
I walk in and find that almost the entirety of the shop is taken up by a huge, huge baby shower, complete with a table full of presents and two more tables full of ladies in deliberately silly hats.
The hostess kindly but firmly tells me that if I don't have a reservation, they cannot seat me. I ask to use the bathroom before I leave, as it's been a long trip. They point me to the back.
I come out, after admiring shelves and shelves of riding boots stashed in the bathroom, to find Steven sitting at the single table not taken up by the baby shower. I think at first that they have allowed him a spot to rest before he takes me away again, but no. He's been seated and is waiting for a menu, which arrives promptly.
It turns out that he was seated personally by the mother of the owners, who chose to overrule the hostess. The owners themselves are out, one of them having given birth the day or so before. The rest of the staff, besides her and her husband, consist of the college-age friends of the owner's niece. They are, shall we say, not a polished crew. And they are attempting to keep a huge baby shower happy and occupied. Plus me and Steven.
They are out of the first tea I request. I have a backup. They are out of crumpets, but offer to toast some bread for Steven instead. The bread turns out to be homemade marble rye. They run out of ham for the tea sandwiches and make us two turkey sandwiches instead. They forget to charge us for two items. They apologize for making us wait for things, even though the wait isn't all that bad considering.
They do not seem to realize that everything after I got out of the bathroom is gravy as far as I'm concerned.
At the first sip of tea and bite of protein (egg salad, risky considering my recent nausea and heightened migraine senses), my headache disappears and I am able to completely enjoy my meal. Which is very tasty indeed, as is the tea.
The owner's mother comes to chat with us and I confess that this is my Mother's Day outing. "I'm so glad I seated you, then!" she exclaims, adding, "you two have such kind faces." We talk about the twins for a short spell before she goes to rest her feet with a friend.
The rest of the staff makes audible plans to head to a club, leaving one of them behind to cut cake for the baby shower, who are wrapping up their party, and then clean up. That's fine. It sounds like they earned it. And we've finished our tea and our toast and our motorloaf sandwiches, and I am having to cover my mouth to hide the giggles I get every time they apologize to us. I believe this counts as "rough-hewn charm," or something. This place is as full of charm as they come. Not professional, not polished, but sincere. I am suddenly having the best day ever.
And then I headed to PPO and read about succubi, serial killers and knitting. More about that later.
I was having a bit of a stressful day yesterday, for a variety of reasons. The result of which was that I landed a migraine in the mid-afternoon. I lay down to try to dispel it and got about halfway when it was time to get up and go to tea. This was going to be my Mother's Day tea. We'd decided not to make reservations in part because we weren't sure of our timing. I really wanted to go, so I risked climbing into a car to drive to the Richmond district from Oakland with an ebbing headache. This was perhaps not the smartest move ever.
I don't throw up and the headache only gets a little worse by the time we make it all the dang way to the foggy, foggy Richmond. Fog is good because it means less sunlight which means less pain behind my eyes. Steven lets me out at the little shop's huge barn door and sets off to find a place to park.
I walk in and find that almost the entirety of the shop is taken up by a huge, huge baby shower, complete with a table full of presents and two more tables full of ladies in deliberately silly hats.
The hostess kindly but firmly tells me that if I don't have a reservation, they cannot seat me. I ask to use the bathroom before I leave, as it's been a long trip. They point me to the back.
I come out, after admiring shelves and shelves of riding boots stashed in the bathroom, to find Steven sitting at the single table not taken up by the baby shower. I think at first that they have allowed him a spot to rest before he takes me away again, but no. He's been seated and is waiting for a menu, which arrives promptly.
It turns out that he was seated personally by the mother of the owners, who chose to overrule the hostess. The owners themselves are out, one of them having given birth the day or so before. The rest of the staff, besides her and her husband, consist of the college-age friends of the owner's niece. They are, shall we say, not a polished crew. And they are attempting to keep a huge baby shower happy and occupied. Plus me and Steven.
They are out of the first tea I request. I have a backup. They are out of crumpets, but offer to toast some bread for Steven instead. The bread turns out to be homemade marble rye. They run out of ham for the tea sandwiches and make us two turkey sandwiches instead. They forget to charge us for two items. They apologize for making us wait for things, even though the wait isn't all that bad considering.
They do not seem to realize that everything after I got out of the bathroom is gravy as far as I'm concerned.
At the first sip of tea and bite of protein (egg salad, risky considering my recent nausea and heightened migraine senses), my headache disappears and I am able to completely enjoy my meal. Which is very tasty indeed, as is the tea.
The owner's mother comes to chat with us and I confess that this is my Mother's Day outing. "I'm so glad I seated you, then!" she exclaims, adding, "you two have such kind faces." We talk about the twins for a short spell before she goes to rest her feet with a friend.
The rest of the staff makes audible plans to head to a club, leaving one of them behind to cut cake for the baby shower, who are wrapping up their party, and then clean up. That's fine. It sounds like they earned it. And we've finished our tea and our toast and our motorloaf sandwiches, and I am having to cover my mouth to hide the giggles I get every time they apologize to us. I believe this counts as "rough-hewn charm," or something. This place is as full of charm as they come. Not professional, not polished, but sincere. I am suddenly having the best day ever.
And then I headed to PPO and read about succubi, serial killers and knitting. More about that later.
