Alice's Tea Cup

I had time to kill on 46th and Lex in between appointments. I thought I would grab a coffee and then I saw Alice's Tea Cup on E 64h St across from where Bernie Madoff used to roam happily. I decided it was probably too expensive or too "twee" for me, but I ducked inside as I also have this odd self-righteous, nobody puts baby in a corner streak in me these day. Commonly known around town as "defensiveness."

It was a little girly-precious, but the thought of a scone and a cup of tea sounded nostalgic. It is what my mum used to serve.

I was given a menu with a tea list that was as many pages as a wine list at a posh restaurant. I found it much like betting on horses; you go for the name that you like. There was a black tea blend called "Margaret's Hope." (Could also be a racehorse name in fact!) I went for that because that is my mum's name and I want her to have that for me. I got a French vanilla scone to go with because I am studying French and I am awfully vanilla.

My whole order sorted, I sat back at a table with an Alice doll encased under glass peering up at me and read a New Yorker article (see: yesterday's entry) about Samuel Beckett who oolong ago (tea joke) replaced David Cassidy on my wall. (Now there was a leap!)

Margaret's Blend was so wonderful and the experience of stopping for a moment in an isolated tea shop in the middle of Manhattan and being able to read an article in my breeds-like-sheep New Yorker was so relaxing.

Alice's Tea Cup is really a day spa.

AHhhhhhhhhhh.