Causing a stir in the Strand

Down the road they smoke cannabis in front of policemen; up the road they take their clothes off and dance in your face; but halfway along the Strand a man in a dinner jacket still plays Edelweiss and Limelight at 3.30 in the afternoon to tea-sipping gentlefolk. The cakes are stacked up on the stand; the tea-strainers gently drip into china recipients; the cushions on the chairs are plumped up like the breasts of winter robins. Who said the old order was over?

Yes, tea at the Savoy Hotel continues much as it always has; only £23 per person gives the event a truly contemporary dimension. I can understand its appeal, even at this price; if you want to chat to someone in amusingly opulent surroundings, taking tea at the Savoy together is far more relaxing and calming than the frenzy, noise and repeated disturbance of a three-course meal with wine, trimmings, booze and excitable waiters.

Moreover, between now and the end of May, the old order is tottering just slightly, in that you can "Journey to an Indian Tea Garden at The Savoy". There are five single-estate Indian teas (from a fine source: Newby Teas) on offer, together with Indian snacks instead of all that childish British cakey stuff.

The charming staff, I have to say, weren't selling the special event with any zeal; it was only by special request, and in the face of their mild astonishment, that we managed to keep the brandy snaps and choux buns at bay and tuck into dhokla, mathri and cheese chilli toast instead. Most of the Indian snacks are savoury - the chutney sandwich (bread filled with perfumed mint and coriander) was particularly good; though there were two sweet snacks at the end (kala jamun or milk fat dumplings, and the decadently kinky jalebi, worm casts of gram flour fritters in sugar syrup).

The teas were excellent; their service less so. The first cup is poured for you at the very moment the pot is brought, and was in three cases insipid. Either the tea needs to be brewed and stirred properly in the kitchen before it is brought to the table, or the tea needs to stand and be stirred at the table before it is poured.

The majestic and scented grassiness of the Darjeeling, the malty, tannic bite of the Assam, and the hop garden sappiness of the Nilgiris were all apparent in the latter cups only. And requests as to which estates the teas came from were met with blank incomprehension.

Why not replace the pianist for the duration of the festival with a sitar player? Why not dress the staff in saris and Indian tunics? The Thames Foyer where tea was served was fully booked on the afternoon my guest and I called, yet we were the only ones making the "Journey to an Indian Tea Garden". The old order seemed firmly entrenched in the minds of staff and guests alike.

RESTAURANT REVIEW: The Savoy Grill