David Schneider

In America, it's expected that whenever a proper gentleman wishes to have a tea party, he'll gear up in Native American face-paint and chuck the stuff into the nearest harbor. Real men drink Bud Light and watch football on a Saturday afternoon. To join the missus for a pot of Darjeeling, some scones with strawberries and clotted cream, and cucumber sandwiches with the crusts cut off, is so dainty, so English, so downright metrosexual.

That's a damn shame, because a true afternoon tea is among life's most effortless pleasures, a state of being more than a drink. And, beclouded by cigar smoke in the Peninsula Hotel's bar, I am learning how to achieve that state of tea--and not lose my cojones in the process. A new event at the Chicago Peninsula, the "Gentleman's Retreat" is a sublime tutorial in the art of masculine civility and languor, held each afternoon. We are secreted away from the chattering classes, tinkling china and string serenades of the Pen's traditional tea service in its airy lobby, and deposited with knowing propriety among dark-wood paneling, spot-lit Picassos and a gleefully crackling fire.

"Of course," remarks a Very Proper English Gentleman of my acquaintance, "tea, traditionally, was a way for the idle rich to spend their time between lunch and dinner. Apparently," he concludes to conspiratorial chortles, "nothing's changed."

"Au contraire," I demur, straightening my tie and relishing this foray into refinement, "The scones have become a smoked-salmon club sandwich, the clotted cream's been transformed into a mini-bleu cheese burger, and the cucumber sandwiches are a grilled lamb chop." With knife and fork I attack the chop, one of the most exquisite selections of grilled lamb I've yet encountered. My Very Proper Englishman acquaintance picks it up by the bone and wolfs into it. "Tea-time snacks are designed as finger-foods, of course."

I am halfway through the mini-burger when someone mentions the Swiss resort Gstaad. God bless you, I think. "Oh yes," says one of the bar managers, who's joined us in this League of Gentlemen. "I did my apprenticeship in Gstaad." Of course.

This is not a League of its Own, however; and as we, fueled by tea, amble through the gentlemanly topics of sports, business and women, martinis appear in our peripheral vision with legions of Armani and Prada. So we, likewise, are taken from tea and light luncheon into dessert--a chocolate and cream confection with plump raspberries--and the Pen's proprietary blend of bourbon, with a selection of cigars. There is an alchemy at work here--the mellow brightening of tea, the just-right portions of excellent cuisine, the soothing fire of the bourbon, plus the round headiness of the cigar--and as I step outside, the jostling weekend Mag Mile mob dissipates. I am floating, attuned, balanced.

(2003-10-29)

Also by David Schneider

Spin Control
Carl Cox's bleeding-ear beats caromed off Crobar's walls when my girlfriend first told me she loved me
(2003-10-23)

Air born
It's at the beginning of track four--"Betcha Do"--that you realize "Air Farina," released on Om Records this week, isn't your garden-variety house CD
(2003-10-16)

To be or knot to be
"Front to back, bottom to top," intones poet Tara Banks in a solemn rhythm echoed by a trio of knitters
(2003-10-02)

Man at Work
The current print edition of Newcity features a photo-essay featuring the work of photograher John Stamets as he documents the construction of the works of Koolhaas and Gehry
(2003-09-17)

Coming up dry
(2003-09-10)

Sensuous Chicago: Taste
(2003-08-05)

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