Ann's Tea Room Cleveleys (A Teacake Is Not Just For Breakfast)

My first visit to Cleveleys this year and I’m taking in one of this seaside resort’s many tea shops and cafes;  Ann’s Traditional Tea Room, opposite Wilkinsons.

Me and my daughter poke our head round the door and plonk ourselves down in the window. The place is busy, tables are full, people are eating and the place is alive with chatter and activity. We have two laminated menus on our table. I glance around and see mis-matched china and cake stands, I like what I see. It’s quaint. Daughter is surly and mumbles to me that she wants a hot chocolate. I implore her to chose something to eat but she tells me the chippy on the front would have done her. I force her to try a cheese toastie, without the salad or coleslaw. A  nervous waitress appears but we ask her to give us a minute as we haven’t quite decided. Almost immediately another waitress appears at our table, she is older and obviously more assertive; so, with a notebook held in her left hand (level with her chest) and her right hand holding a pen which is poised over the notebook, head cocked to one side and without taking a pause for breath, she booms,

“Yes, can we help you? soup of the day is veg we have some lovely quiches we don’t have turkey but we have chicken”

There is a moment’s pause before I give our order of one hot chocolate, a black coffee with separate milk (“It comes like that anyway”), a toasted teacake and a cheese toastie. I ask for a side order of crisps instead of coleslaw and salad. She thinks that they can do this.

The laminated menu in front of me points out that a teacake is not just for breakfast.

The nervous waitress slowly places a knife and fork wrapped in a serviette in front of me and  then slowly carries out the same procedure in front of my daughter. She disappears and returns a moment later with our food and drink.

I am presented with the smallest cup of coffee I have ever seen in my life.

I glance around the small premises, there is a middle aged couple sitting at a table by the counter. I hear the man of the partnership giving out advice earnestly, he is telling his lady friend that her life will never be the same if she accepts. I notice his bottom set of false teeth are moving around in his jaw.

Our assertive waitress, who I suspect is Ann Herself, is telling a customer that the bread rolls from the health shop are tasty; she didn’t think they would be, but they are. She goes on to give this customer very detailed directions to the health shop.

I bite into my toasted teacake. It’s fresh, hot and buttery but is quite bland. There aren’t many currants or sultanas in it and it isn’t spiced.

I can hear Ann pontificating and I notice she has an unusual habit of placing the emphasis on words at an unexpected point in the sentence.

“I am surprised at WHAT they did have IN, I’m getting an awful lot of people IN asking for them” (aforementioned bread rolls from the health shop)

She suddenly switches subject and talks about the best way to cook meat.

“When you braise it’s HALF that size when it is actually DONE”

My daughter says her toastie is ok. She is pulling it apart with her fingers, stretching the stringy cheese to about a foot off the plate.

A customer at the till is querying whether the place is open tomorrow (Sunday). Ann says she is opening tomorrow but she’s going to see how it GOES, you know, SEE how it goes till about two thirty.

The new pots in Cleveleys seem to be a talking point in Ann’s Tea Room. Do you know people are throwing rubbish and cigarettes in them? There are no flowers in them. One woman feels like going to the council to ask what she is paying for. Even the new benches, you can’t tie your dog to them in case anyone sits down and it bites them. I should wait till I see them, they are horrendous.

Ann is at the door greeting a couple of elderly women, “Good AFTERNOON Ladies”

Next, we witness a massive to-do. The quiet couple sitting to our left, had, a moment earlier, been sitting looking at a tea pot and two cups and saucers in front of them which had been put there by the nervous waitress. Instead of pouring the tea, the lady had got up from the table and gone to the counter. I didn’t hear what she said but I heard Ann’s reply, everyone in the tea room heard,

“In a tea room the tea has to be served in a cup. You are the only person to complain. Tea in a tea room is to be served in a tea cup”.

The quiet lady and her husband grabbed their china tea cups and took them outside without saying a word. As Ann shut the door behind them she said,

“She should go in a transport Caff”

To labour her point further Ann explained that she is sticking to her guns, this is what she does and she is not changing for anyone. An Octogenarian to my right sipped her tea, turned to her daughter and said, “It’s all kicking off”.

I have my head down, concentrating on the laminated menu, so as not to catch anyone’s eye.

I am slightly scared that Ann will catch me taking photographs and wonder what I am up to.

I love the explanatory stickers, (or afterthoughts) on the menu.

Crostini = “Crusty Bread”

We now serve cafetiere filter coffee for two £5 =(4 cups closed brackets

The man with the wobbly false teeth is still at it in the corner,

“I am a man, but I don’t like men, men are boring”

Bland toasted teacake notwithstanding I actually love this place. Sitting in the window is an ideal spot and if you don’t want a mug of tea or coffee then it comes highly recommended.

Olympus Bolton

 

A pre-theatre dining experience; fish chips and peas at Olympus Bolton before the pair of us trot over to the Octagon for the Shakespeare production of 12th Night. Six o' clock on a Friday evening, we’re greeted at the door by one of the lovely waiters, he says hello, tells us we can sit anywhere we like and as he does so he waves his outstretched arm, gently pointing  to all areas of the restaurant. We find a table right at the back, in a quiet corner, I pass a man eating a jacket potato; right at the back of us, a table of elderly woman park up and as one of them is standing peeling off her coat, she asks if the rest of her chums have seen the Great British Sewing Bee.

Not our first visit to Olympus, we’re familiar with the routine; a simple, friendly system of ordering ensues; waiter hands menu over (then discreetly buggers off); choose your meal, order and pay at the counter then meal is delivered. No nonsense proven system, no one waiting around for food and probably one of the many reasons why this place is either packed or generally ticking over, whatever time of day you visit.

The baked potato eating man leaves his table and starts on the piano. The gentle plink plonk is non intrusive and really creates a fabulous atmosphere –to me anyway. I detest hearing commercial radio stations whilst I am dining; this is great. I am happy. We’re starving so we order fish chips and peas twice (Danny goes for the larger sized meal), two slices of bread and butter, a portion of gravy and an extra portion of chips.  Two coffees, one with milk, the other with cream. When it all arrives, we immediately feel over faced but we crash on. The pianist strikes up “I Don’t Know Why I Love You Like I do”. He hits a couple of bum notes.

Next is Elton John; “Sorry Seems To Be The Hardest Word" although we both agree the Olympus Pianist does some twiddly bits on the bass keys that Elton John doesn’t know. We argue over the next song, Danny says it’s “The Girl from Ipenema”, I think it’s “Do You Know The Way To San Jose”. I am right of course and Danny serenades me in a voice which is in the style of Stuart Staples. We wonder if he does requests (the pianist) and Danny wonders aloud whether he knows any Belle and Sebastian. I plonk some chips and peas on a butty and take a massive bite, I am in heaven, just as the chorus from "Twenty Four hours From Tulsa" looms over. A few tragic ballads later, "You’ve lost That Loving Feeling" and “You Don’t Buy Me Flowers Any More” and we’re full to bursting point. We can’t manage the extra chips.

The final number as we’re starting to leave is “Raindrops Keep Falling On My Head” If music be the food of love indeed……(food is fabulous by the way)