How many teas are there in Martini?

This is the tale of two knights who decided to battle a fearsome and unknown beast. The Mount Nelsons afternoon tea.

Before I start, I have to tell you about the person I went with; Kyle. He’s one of those people that if you saw him in the street you would think he was a very tall fifteen year old. In fact he turns nineteen in a few months. He drives an old, beat up, blue golf, and it’s surprising it’s lasted as long as it has; the way he treats it. He can be smart, and respectable when he wants to be, and completely crazy when doesn’t. But let’s get to the story.

The Mount Nelson is one of the classiest hotels in Cape Town. Catering for first class business man, upper income tourists, and the occasional celeb.

Its pillared entrance way invites you onto rolling lawns, stone statues, and a large pink building that holds a five star rating that is challenged by none.

As we arrived at reception, we were met with looks of slight confusion. As if they were asking, why are these youngsters here? Can they even afford this? To be frank, we didn’t know why, and no, we couldn’t afford it. We dressed the part, collard shirts and all. We could walk the walk, but we couldn’t talk the talk.

We were directed towards the ‘observatory’, as they called it, where tea was being served.

As we got there, we realised that we had absolutely no idea what we were supposed to do. We stood there in front of the buffet, unlike the 12 Apostles Hotel, the Mount Nelson offers a buffet instead of a platter, looking more out of place than monkeys in a hairdresser. We decided that we’d look around, instead of standing there with blank glares on our faces. As we strolled between the tables, and out onto the terrace, we realised that every person here assumed we knew what we were doing. How wrong they all were.

We made our way back to reception where I had to ask how the reservation system worked; yes those are the words I decided to use. The receptionist kindly showed us back to the observatory where a lady with a clipboard asked for the name. She wasn’t there before. Where the hell did she come from?

Now that the whole hotel knew we were idiots, we were ready for tea.

Towards the end of out feast, for R225 per person, we were going to stock up, we realised that our waitress, Mary, seemed to be getting more and more disgruntled each time she came to our table. It then dawned on me that we had started off being smart and respectful, but as the afternoon had worn on, we had become more and more relaxed and so had our nature towards this five star hotel. We had become our loud and vulgar selves once again. Even our collared shirts couldn’t contain our teenage ways.

We went from quaintly drinking tea and chatting in posh English accents, to guzzling down coffee and swearing at each other until the paint started to peel off the walls.

We decided to calm ourselves and go wandering the gardens, in search of enlightenment. These islands of green are decorated with statues, created by local artists, and magnificent trees that look as if they’ve been there since the beginning of time.

We eventually made our way to the swimming pool, and the spa. The ultimate point of relaxation and comfort. The pool looked as if it was made of glass, inviting you into its watery depths. It was lined with beach loungers and waitrons to act on your every call.

Once we eventually made it back to our table we decided to order one last pot of tea each. We wanted something that we’d never had before. Something we would never normally order. We each decided on a different Japanese green tea. Mine included roasted and popped rice. After waiting through six minutes worth of steeping time, we had a go at it. And wow; was it shit. These were my exact words, “it…it tastes like grass…” Like drinking hot water through a bamboo shoot.

Once we were done, and I had recovered from the heart attack given to me by the bill, we made our way to the bar, of course. We were very quickly engulfed in a British Colonial atmosphere. You could have easily imagined it pumped full of cigar smoke, with a roaring fire in the corner, while the heads of the big five hung on the wall as hunting trophies.

The bar itself was at the very back of the small room. Behind it hung a large mirror, like every bar should have, which engulfed the large selection of spirits and aperitifs.

We were greeted with a smile from the bartender. “What can I get you guys? A couple of milkshakes?” When you’re out with Kyle this becomes every bar you walk into.

Sean, as we later found out, was a nice guy, as every bartender should be.

We were soon rocking some “007 Martinis”, yes that’s what they’re called, and we began to chat with a friendly elderly couple on a tour of South Africa. They were from the states and began to compliment us on the wonderful views and ‘countryside’, as if it were our own.

Once they had left, Kyle swiftly pointed out to me that he isn’t too fond of vodka. Well a Martini is almost pure vodka, and unluckily for Kyle he doesn’t know anything about cocktails. He told me later that he just ordered the same as me because he couldn’t have been bothered to read the description of each drink. I then pointed out, for future reference, that you should never order the same drink as me unless I recommend it.

As the clock ticked over to half past six, we realised it was time to leave.

We later figured out that Martinis make Kyle crazy as all hell. Racing an Audi A4 in an old, beat up golf, never works well for the guys in the golf.

In the end a pleasant, and enjoyable experience. I seriously recommend the Mount Nelson Hotel for afternoon tea, and especially their bar. Just not the green tea.