Cafe Coffee Day for ice cream with glee

Cafe Coffee Day in the CP district of New Delhi is a prime hang out location out for young Facebook, Twiterring, SMS texting Indians. It is not somewhere one goes for tea. My travel buddy assured me that tea was no doubt the best remedy for all stomach bugs, but we did not go here for the tea in particular. Travel buddy went for uber icy air con. I was suffering from the aptly named Delhi belly and needed to stop for reasons that I will not go into so as not to put you off any brew you may be sipping as you read this.

Cafe Coffee Day is not about tea, nor air con, nor toilets. It is about ice cream and chocolate and mobile phones. Most kids here arrived in groups, but they didn't talk to each other. Phones buzzed from one corner of knockerbocker glory fans to the next. My travel buddy, Dan ordered a concoction to excite or perhaps even scare the biggest of ice cream fans- the Devil's Own. And sinful it was- lashing of chocolate sauce, with processed squirty cream and piles of ice cream. Funnily enough, the actual coffee that Cafe Coffee Day is so proud to grow on its own estates seemed to be lacking. My stomach turned, and I made a mental note to eat this next time travel buddy was feeling a bit queezy.

We went up to the fast food style bar and placed our orders. 'One Devil's Own please' said Dan.
'Regular or large? asked the waiter, impatiently punching the till keyboard.
'Ooh large, please' replied travel buddy
'Would you like extra cream with that?'
'Ooh yes please'
'chocolate sauce?'
'Ooh go on, yes'
Chocolate sprinkles?'
'Yes again' he said, looking at me, with apparent glee.
'Any food or cakes?
'Well I am on holiday' he said surveying the counter of prepacked cakes that were actually not plastic, but that were deceptively made with real edible ingredients.
'Sorry? Yes? I did not understand' he replied, confused
'Yes, yes, I mean yes, I'll have a slice of that chocolate cake please'
'Whipped cream?'
And so it went on.

I went back to the toilet and arrived back just in time for my order.
'And for you madam?'
'Just a tea please. No milk.'
'Any food or cakes?'
'No thank you'
And that completed my order.

I ordered a Garam Masala- literally translating as a spicy hot one. It was what Indians would think tea looked and tasted like in a sleek fast food chain in America. Thankfully it was noting near. Perhaps I was just feeling rotten that day, perhaps it was the whiff of chocolate and cream that was making my stomach churn, perhaps it was the disappointment at not even wanting to indulge in any of the ice cream madness, but I felt a sudden rush of comfort from the very first sip, even though in truth this was nothing more than a cheap tea bag plonked into a thickly rimmed mug of tepid water.

Which just goes to show that it's not always just the tea, nor the food, nor the company or general ambiance of the place, it's a combination of all these factors multiplied with my particular mood at that moment in time. This complex formula decides whether the tea room/cafe/street stall/friend's offer of a brew gets a thumbs up and broad smile or a stamping of feet and folding of arms.

I looked to my side; after wolfing down his 'Devil's Own', Travel Buddy had gone quiet. Without a word, he ran to the toilet. My gleeful chortle was more wicked that his iced coffee. Travel buddy was right, tea really did make you feel better.

Cafe Coffee Day
Shop No -37, M block Greater Kailash, New Delhi, India

Quality of tea: 5/10
Service: 5/10
Ambiance: 6/10
Food: N/A but if you are into heart attack inducing desserts this place is for you.
Value: 10/10

Embarrassing Dads at french capital of teatime chic, Mariage Freres.

My last visit to The Mariage Freres in the Marais district of Paris was unforgettable. Not because of the Mariage Freres insitution which dates back to the 17th century, nor the wonderfully aloof waiters draped in white frock coats, not even because of the lively bustle emanating from the aristocratic-boho-gay surroundings. This was my first memorable experience of EDS - Embarrassing Dad Syndrome.

ED (Embarrassing Dad) had come to visit me during a six month work placement in the capital of luxe. My daily uniform was a British take on the Jean Seberg in Paris look, pearls and twin set to boot. This contrasted with ED’s take on British style- flat cap, holey tweed jacket and trousers fitting a la Simon Cowell. Marching into the hushed tones of the Mariage Freres salon, ED yelled ‘ooh int this lovely and posh!’ and plonked himself down.

I winced and brought the menu up above my face. I ordered an iced version of the Peach tea and suggested to ED to point at the tea of his choice with true teenage daughter condescension. He looked up at me, bewildered by the pages upon pages of tea on offer and asked for me to get something as close to Yorkshire tea as possible. Yorkshire Tea? Bah non! Now calmez vous, you Yorkshire tea lovers, I am the first to praise its richness and caffeine kick. But s’il vous plait! Every tea in its place. ED thought I was being snobby and aloof. Actually I was just being French.

Our teas arrived, poured delicately from poker faced waiters holding charming 1920s style ceramic and metal tea pots. ED looked morbidly disappointed as a strikingly paler shade of tea than the builders brew that he was accustomed to filled up his cup. I pretended not to notice, loftily sipping my peach tea and fiddling with my pearls. ED peeked into his teapot, mashed up the water with great gusto. Then like a mad scientist he poured the tea from one receptacles to another in a vain attempt to transform it into his beloved Yorkshire tea. ‘How is your tea?’ he asked. ‘Delicious, very refreshing’ I replied. And it was. The peach was fragrant, but not over powering nor artificial and the black tea base was also good quality. I would have liked ice cubes made from the same tea, rather than plain water, but perhaps this was a diva request too much.

I hadn’t asked ED how his tea was, but he proceeded to tell me for the next quarter of an hour. ‘Damn French, no doubt they gave up and surrendered before learning how to make a decent cuppa’ he quipped. A few saving graces were the cream white waiters jackets and bow ties that got a big ED thumbs up, as well as the lighting and chic furnishings. The adjacent museum and shop were just a money making con, fooling silly parisiens and americans with too much money into pointless purchases. I failed to notice his remarks, drawn from my table by the aroma of some delightful little tea scented candles.

But then a remarkable thing happened. ED shot up behind me, smiled and paid for the bill, candles and all. Perhaps he was an Embarassing Dad, but he was also a Embarrassing Paying Dad. So perhaps he can come with me next time after all.

Mariage Freres tea salon, emporium, restaurant and museum
30 rue du Bourg Tibourg, Paris, France
Telephone (+33) 01 42 72 28 11
Tea Emporium - Restaurant - Tea Salon - Tea Museum
Open 7 days a week
30 rue du Bourg-Tibourg, Paris 4e
Other tea salons throughout the capital, some with restricted opening times. Check website for details:
www.mariagefreres.com

Quality of tea: 7/10
Service: 6/10
Ambiance: 8/10
Food: N/A (We didn’t eat, but there is a good menu, with good brunch options)
Value: 6/10