In my mother’s house, and all the other houses I knew, the day began with strong, black tea served with milk and sugar. Some people even liked to have tea brought to them in bed. Later in the day, there’d be more tea, again served with milk and sugar. My mother still gets restive if there’s no tea in sight by four in the afternoon, and she still sees it as one of the day’s official mealtimes. I love the idea of pausing in the middle of the afternoon, but when dinner is around seven-thirty, tea can’t be an official meal as it is in India, where dinner doesn’t get served until nine o’clock.