If you want to make me very, very happy, it’s not so hard.
The French tea house Betjeman and Barton has everything you need (and I would be happy to receive).
Now, the tea in this post is not from Betjeman and Barton. It’s a Creme Earl Grey from a tiny tea place called Kathleen’s that no longer exists. When my girls were little, and for special moments as they grew older, I would take them to Kathleen’s and we would drink whole pots of tea, each to our own, and get to choose our own vintage teacups. If we were lucky, the window seat would be open. You had to go up three little stairs to get to it. It felt like a secret place, where we could look out the glass as the world went by. All the teas were loose teas, so my girls learned early of its delights, though any night here in my tiny Tudor, long after I’ve gone to bed, you might find them steeping, via teabags (les sachets), chamomile or Yogi Green Tea Kombucha.
Like Kathleen’s which is now gone, the tea blend I once wrote the following poem about is also gone. At the time, I simply perused Betjeman and Barton’s website and used one of their enchanting catalog descriptions to create a part-found poem.
Morning Tea with Julie
Fruit, more fruit,
a real combination of fruit:
you and me,
on a subtle base of Ceylon and China teas—
cherry, strawberry,
peach and orange,
a whirl of flavour.
And. Outside our window,
scattered sunflower petals.
—L.L., for Sam and Julie
Betjeman and Barton has been around since 1919, ten years after my grandfather Nadeau was born a continent away. I love their description of the milieu in which their tea house came to be, and somehow it startles me that my grandfather was contemporary to this:
It’s the very end of the 1910s, and the world, still shaken by the Great War, is rediscovering life. Paris is dancing, Paris is inventing, Paris is laughing again. The Roaring Twenties are upon us, jazz is being played in the cellars of Montmartre, literary salons and art galleries are frequented… It was during a stay in the French capital, accompanied by his wife and their young daughter Alix, that Arthur Betjeman fell in love with Paris. The understated elegance of the second-hand booksellers, the bustle of the markets, the gourmet window displays of the 8th arrondissement. He understands that this city, like tea, knows how to combine refinement, surprises, and contrasts. It’s decided: it will be here. Paris will become the cradle of his home, and the heart of his adventure.
The Betjeman and Barton tea house has—like you would expect of any business of 100+ years—been through many changes, though it has preserved its vision and quality.
Translating a poem? It also presents a change, and I do like to preserve something of the vision and quality of the original. In the past, I’ve translated French poems to English. But now I’ve discovered there’s nothing like translating your own native-language writings to help you learn French (or any language) faster and deeper.
So, “Morning Tea with Julie,” in French…
Thé du matin avec Julie
‘Des fruits, encore des fruits,
une vraie combinaison des fruits’:
toi et moi,
sur une base subtile de thés de Ceylan et de Chine—
cerise, fraise,
pêche et orange,
un tourbillon de saveur.
Et. Dehors notre fenêtre,
des pétales de tournesol éparpillés.
—l.l., pour Sam et Julie
Change is inevitable in life. What we do with it, how we navigate, that’s an art as delicate as blending a beautiful tea. Toi et moi (you and me), it’s our chance to be creative, if we take it.
As always,
L.L.
P.S. The wooden table upon which the diamond-cut mason jar and its lovely tea sat while getting their picture taken was left here by the previous owner. It’s an antique, weathered and worn, and I doubt that Nancy and Evan would have guessed their humble table would someday lend its texture to photos featured on a French and tea blog. I think they’d be pleased.
P.S.S. Tea doesn’t like to be exposed to light long-term, which breaks down its essential oils, accelerates oxidation, diminishes its antioxidants and fades its color. That mason jar with the Creme Earl Grey? I keep it tucked into a miniature paper bag to keep the tea comfortably in the dark.
below ↓ look how the glass of the mason jar is playing with the crystal of the vase.
also, check out the mystery of the light source (see it along the bottom left, while it’s also caressing the jar’s rim up top?) these are the kind of findings i don’t plan for and am so delighted with when they appear as if by magic (la magie))
See all Words to Travel By posts…
- How to Write a Found Poem—The Many Tools to Discover Treasure - May 4, 2026
- Happy Birthday Every Day Poems—Celebrating 15 Years! - April 15, 2026
- Morning Tea French Poem + A 100-Year-Old Tea House - April 13, 2026
Katie Spivey Brewster says
L.L.,
Such sweet and delightful reminisences and lovely images:)
Gratefully,
Katie
L.L. Barkat says
Thank you, Katie. Good memories. Delicious tea. 🙂 Happy to share.