Table service

More booze.

According to second hand reports of hippy pilgrims to India, back in the day, all alcoholic beverages served in India were served in teapots. Such an absolute statement struck me as immediately dubious – in spite of the Troubles, I’m sure a few glasses were left over from the Raj – nonetheless, the image of a teapot full of beer was one I found charming. In Cochin, we were indeed charmed by beer served on the sly in teapots. Family harmony will be disrupted if I open the albums and reveal a sister mid-pour. Here instead is an abridged artist’s impression of beer poured from a teapot into a mug by a blood relative of mine. Enchanting, non? And great for table banter. ‘No milk with that, thanks!’ Chortle chortle. ‘Hmmm, refreshing!’ ‘Tikkety boo!’ We know how to have fun.

Sadly I myself was unable to pose for a photo with a frothy teapot full of beer having been at the time afflicted with some strange fever-bug which killed both my appetite and capacity to consume even mild liquors. These extremely serious symptoms were made a bit more interesting by some remarkable nocturnal hallucinations. I was honestly convinced my limbs were made of cheese. Happily, the delirium was brief and mild: it was over by daybreak and, as it was pointed out to me, did not transform my room-mates into hungry mice.

Incidentally, I have reason to believe that my malaise was due to an ill-considered chicken sandwich at an establishment named the Tea Pot in Fort Cochin. Cursed by a chicken sandwich, how damnably prosaic. The death by chocolate cake had been struck of the menu, the doughnuts looked like death, the staff claimed to be fresh out of samosas… I ate a chicken sandwich and paid the price. This blog’s style counsellors appraised the Tea Pot thus: 5 stars for ambience and decor (teapots hanging from the roof – catchy) and half a star cumulatively for service, food and germ warfare. And it was the Tea Pot which deprived me of my chance to drink beer out of a teapot. Don’t go there.