Tea (Thee)

Unlike the Brits, the Dutch are definitely not in love with tea.

 If they’re honest, they’ll probably say they don’t even like it.  

They’ll just reluctantly drink it on trips to the UK because the coffee there is so bad.

Considering it was the lowlanders who allegedly first brought it to Europe in the 17th century you’d have thought that the Dutch would have had enough time to get to know and fall in love with the exotic eastern leaf.

Yes?

Nope. 

Because, somewhere along the way, they inexplicably ditched the tea leaf and fell very much in love with the coffee bean.

So nowadays, Dutchies are only forced to drink tea as toddlers, during the odd world-wide coffee shortage or on trips to the UK.

But, even then, they will only have tea on their terms...

This means:

1. Waving the teabag in the general direct of the cup (hardly making any contact with the water)

2. Ignoring various subsequent offers of milk and/or sugar.

Therefore it’s really no wonder they don’t like tea! Even most Brits wouldn’t drink it that way; it would put them off tea for life.

I have lost count of the times I’ve sat in a Dutch restaurant during a meal, got distracted, forgotten where I was and accidentally asked for a cup of tea.  

And then instantly regretted it.

Never ask for a cup of tea in a Dutch bar or restaurant.  

Ever.

The first sign that something might be wrong is when the waiter appears with a transparent glass cup.  Full of water.  It was hot water once, but the kettle boiled a long, long time ago and now the water is rapidly cooling in the glass cup right in front of your eyes.

You spot the cup on the tray but the waiter still has a couple more stops before he gets to your table so you have no choice but to sit and wait patiently.

The next sign that something is not quite right is that you spot from across the room that there is actually no tea in the cup. The tea bag is missing.   But that’s normal.  Here in NL, you’ve got to do that part yourself.  If you can actually get your hands on the cup that is, once the waiter has stopped faffing around with the other customers.

And this is the biggest problem.  By the time you finally get your hands on the cup, ripped open the packaging containing the teabag and dunked it into the, by now, lukewarm water, you know you’re in trouble.  Hot water in fact.  Not.

The tea will refuse to infuse into the water no matter how hard you batter, twist and wring it.  This is for two reasons.  Firstly, the water is too cold.  Secondly, the quality of the tea is poor at best.

Once you have finally given up and admitted defeat after squeezing out as much tea into the tepid water as you can, you also realise, glancing around the table at the tea-sodden mess, that there is, of course, no milk.  Why would there be? You’re not a toddler. 

After 10 minutes of getting the waiter’s attention and asking for milk for your tea, you then spend a further 10 minutes watching as the staff gather behind the counter to confer, pausing every so often to look up in your direction with amused faces.  Once they have finally stopped giggling among themselves, someone is pushed forward and approaches your table brandishing a little white jug.

Quickly, you murmur your thanks, aware that all eyes are now trained on you and pour the white stuff into the now-nearly cold grey soup and take a hasty sip.  You then realise they have given you coffee milk.  And the whole thing tastes like you’ve boiled your old socks in it.

So, with as much inner strength as you can muster, you calmly place the cup down on the table and ask for the bill.  Defeated, you sit staring at the cold grey mess in front of you and make a resolution to never ask for tea in the Netherlands ever again.

Until you get distracted, forget where you are and do it all again.