After supper I sit down with a quiet cup

The evening plates are already by the sink, crumbs on the cloth, the kettle still warm. My hand is already reaching for the sponge, “while the food’s still soft”. I sit down first: a quiet cup of tea at the table, the steam rising towards the lamp. Not a second pot of coffee. Not a lecture. Just a cup, and then the washing-up.

After supper I sit down with a quiet cup. This note is about that small pause: the cup on the table, the plates waiting, and me not rushing to the sponge while the tea is still hot. It is ten or fifteen minutes, no more, but it changes how the end of the day feels.

Ordinary tea, not some herbal remedy. Sugar for whoever wants a spoon. I don’t open a cold sweet drink, and I don’t make a second coffee “because the plates can wait”. Strong coffee late in the evening keeps me awake, and a bottle of something fizzy and sweet after a full meal is the last thing I need. A cup of tea is warm, it is small, and it gives my hands something to hold that isn’t a dishcloth.

The tea itself is worth a little care, because a stewed, bitter cup ruins the whole idea. I fill the kettle with fresh cold water, not the water that has been sitting in it since lunch, because water boiled again and again makes flat tea. While it heats, I warm the pot with a splash of hot water from the tap or the first of the kettle, swirl it and tip it out. A cold pot steals heat from the water and the leaves don’t open properly.

For a small pot I use one teaspoon of loose leaf tea per cup, or one teabag for two cups if the bags are good. Black tea gets water straight off the boil. I put the lid on, put a tea cosy or a folded tea towel over the top, and leave it for three to five minutes: three for a lighter cup, five if someone likes it strong. Then I pour it all off the leaves into the cups, or through a strainer, so the rest of the pot doesn’t keep stewing. Milk goes in after the tea, a little at a time, so I can see the colour. Green tea is different: I let the kettle stand for a few minutes after it boils, because water that is too hot makes it bitter, and I give it only two or three minutes.

The plates don’t suffer for the wait. Ten minutes is not long enough for anything to set like concrete. If there is a pan with stuck-on porridge or egg, I fill it with water before I sit down, and it is easier to wash afterwards, not harder. What does need attention first is the food: leftovers go into covered boxes and into the fridge once they have cooled, within a couple of hours, not left on the hob overnight. That takes a minute, and then I can sit down with a clear conscience.

So the order in our kitchen is simple. Leftovers away, soaking pan filled, kettle on, pot warmed, tea brewed. Then the cup at the table, the lamp, the steam. The room smells of tea, not yet of the sink. When the cup is empty, I get up and wash up, and somehow it goes quicker than when I start straight from the table with the meal still sitting heavy.

I don’t need a second coffee after supper. I need a quiet cup at the table before the sponge, made properly, in a warm pot, not stewed. In your house, do you sit down with a cup first, or start washing up while the kettle clicks off for nobody?