We Have No More Scones

Victoria Sandwich Cake -- Tea and Sympathy
Tea and Sympathy

Tea and Sympathy seems to have some trouble keeping items in stock.

The last time we ventured to this English culinary palace (when Vodka blew an entire paycheck purchasing royal wedding paraphernalia), they were out of our desired Victoria Sandwich Cake, which had been chosen by Robert Irvine on the THAT I'M THANKFUL FOR episode of Best Thing I Ever Ate.

This time, they run out of scones.

We're certain the Queen would not approve.

We Are Not Amused

Tea and Sympathy is divided into two sections: the "dining room" with table service, and the to-go bodega next door.  Reluctantly entering the dining room and maneuvering to a table, we are instantly put off by the sign on the door that states that we must order $10 worth of food.  Each.

We're More Dollar Menu Type of People

Vodka, whose high school calculus class almost sent her to the mental asylum for life, at first cannot figure out why this $10 of food figure has placed such a puss on Ginger's face.  "If we each order a tea and the one slice of cake, we're way over $10," she explains to Ginger.  "That will be like $12."

"We EACH have to order $10 worth of food," Ginger counters.  Clearly, Vodka's math skills have not improved since high school.

Just as we uneagerly decide that we will order scones (which we can then ask for "to go") to reach our minimal cost, as if we're in a mid-1990s sitcom, a waitress walks to the front door and posts a sign that states, "WE HAVE NO MORE SCONES."

Like the Queen's retreat from the Buckingham Palace balcony on royal wedding day, we hightail it out of there, mocking all the way.  After all, what kind of British establishment runs out of scones (scones!) at 5pm on a Friday afternoon?!

Time to Consult the Take-Out Menu

Securely clutching our newly saved $10 bills, we order a piece of Victoria Sandwich Cake to-go at the sister store next door, which sends the poor English chap behind the counter out into the rain and back to the recently-departed dining room in order to procure it for us.  We sit on the windowsill to open up our plastic-enclosed masterpiece, along with the side of clotted cream that our friend has also been so kind to fetch.

Classing Up the Joint Everywhere We Go

Robert Irvine's choice consists of two large hunks of vanilla-looking cake cemented in the middle by what appears to be a thin layer of clotted cream and a berry jam.

A Vision in Sponge

Dipping our forks first into the side of clotted cream, we bite into the cake.  And our reactions are almost as disparate as our aforementioned ability to do math.

Ginger nods in satisfaction before diving back into the clotted cream; Vodka grimaces and purses her lips.

"What?" Ginger inquires, shoveling another fork full into her mouth.

"It tastes like a sponge," Vodka insists.  "A sponge with no taste."

Ignoring this assessment, Ginger states, "I love a clotted cream" and plunges back in.  Having studied abroad in England during our college years, Vodka decides that Ginger must be more accustomed to the English flavors (or lack thereof), hence the difference of opinion.

The Aluminum Foil Tasted Perfect

As a compromise, we have given the cake three stars.  Ginger packs up the remainder of the cake and stores it in her handbag, and we head back into the monsoon of Manhattan, plastic forks still gripped firmly in our hands, as Tea and Sympathy needs to add "trash cans," along with a little thing called "SCONES," to their weekly shopping list.

Tea and Sympathy's Victoria Sandwich Cake: 3 stars