Contrary to what you may have heard, I am alive and well. According to this:
I am 136 years old, which feels about right. This is the real reason why previously you haven’t heard from me in almost a century. After my return from The Great War and I got back use of my “tingling leg” I went down to the kitchens and told Mrs. Patmore and Daisy that I would provide the Wednesday cucumber tea sandwiches. Knives out. Before I knew it word got ‘round that I was motoring along and…well, you might know the rest, and I’m not one to talk about myself.
12 slices good white bread, sliced fairly thin, 1/4” is good enough
1 tub of herbed cream cheese
1 (or maybe 2) English cucumber(s). These can grow as long as a man’s arm. You’ll know them because here in America they’re usually in some kind of wrapping. Why? Because the skins are very thin so they bruise easily and a further benefit is that their seeds, such as they are, are unnoticeable.
Lay out the bread (the Downton kitchens have a special table for this; I did not know), carve 12 slices with a bayonet attachment, if you still have yours, and slice off the crusts. Smear (“schmear” is the New York term, I’ve learned) a generous helping of herbed cream cheese over 6 of the slices. Size up those 6 slices as you would a Hun trench and slice enough English cucumber in thin rounds to cover them all. Top with the other 6 slices of bread. Have Mrs. Patmore find room in the icebox to let these chill. Quarter them when you’re ready to dispatch one of the servants to serve them.
“But Mr. Crawley, this is far too much food for a Wednesday tea. I’m sure Lady Mary would only have a nibble on one—“
“Lady Mary is not only a distant cousin but my wife and let me tell you, when you get her alone she eats like a Yorkshire sow.”
“Matthew! What are you doing down here? The whole family is looking for you.”
“Mary, my beloved, I was just checking on how the tea was coming along. Shall we go upstairs?”