High tea: One Edinburgh family are bringing it back to its roots

• Angela Dolan having a tea party at her flat in Dickson Street. Pic: Greg Macvean

'YOU'LL have had your tea" is not a phrase you'll hear when you arrive at Angela Dolan's door. As the kitchen clock ticks towards 3pm, on the hottest Saturday any Edinburgher you speak to can recall, the Leith kitchen over which she presides is abuzz with industry. The windows have been flung open, so that what afternoon breeze there is fans the three women busily working within.

Triangular sandwiches are being de-crusted; a quiche is tentatively prodded to check its eggy consistency; a spoonful of mustard adds kick to a cheese sauce;whipped cream is marbled yellow with a dollop of lemon curd.

Dolan, looking the part of tearoom proprietor in her white linen dress and spotted apron, calmly surveys the adjacent parlour. Three tables – 14 places in total – are laid with immaculate formality: flowered china cups and saucers, bone-handled knives, tiny plates, silver jam-spoons and hand-embroidered napkins, all arranged on pristine white tablecloths decorated with cross-stitching or crocheted lace. "I hope this weather doesn't mean everyone will just want to lie on the Links and have a barbecue," our host momentarily frets, as the mercury rises to 26C, for today is the day that her new venture, Queen of Tarts, opens for business.

Afternoon tea has taken a big swig out of the UK coffee market over the past two years. In Edinburgh alone, the popularity of connoisseur cafs such as Eteaket, Falko and Loopy Lorna's are testament to the fashionable rise of the true brew, from Assam to Zinger, and the edible treats that go with it. Yet Queen of Tarts differs from the rest in a most significant way: its customers are coming not to a caf, but to a pop-up event in Angela Dolan's own front room. How – and indeed why – does a person turn their small flat into a teashop and persuade members of the public to buy a ticket to enjoy tea, cake and sandwiches?

"My family is very female-oriented," Dolan explains, "and baking at home is a strong tradition for all of us." She loves making cakes and pastries as much as she admires the ritual and elegance of afternoon tea, and has long harboured a desire to do it on a bigger scale. Working full-time as she does, as a digital PR specialist, opening a caf was not an immediate option, so she has introduced Queen of Tarts as a pop-up concept. It's a clever way of fusing 21st-century digital social media such as Twitter and Facebook with a cherished custom passed down through at least three generations of her family. "I want Queen of Tarts to become the most unique afternoon-tea experience in Edinburgh," she says, hoping that its reputation will grow via the internet and attract visiting tourists from all over the world, as well as local tea-lovers, during this summer's festival season.

The team behind it, also baking, prepping and serving today, includes her mother, Geraldine Dolan, and her aunt Libby Marshall, who are two of five sisters. "Libby owns the chickens that laid all the eggs we've used in the cakes and biscuits," Angela says. Also here is Josie Moir, Angela's grandmother, whose baking talents her daughters and granddaughter inherited. When Josie – now in her mid-eighties – was a young woman, afternoon tea was a popular treat but something for which she and her friends preferred to go out, rather than have it at home: "The tearoom in Patrick Thomson's (department store] on South Bridge was one of the best spots, because they often had a live band playing too," she says.

Shortly after 3pm, the doorbell starts ringing: guests ascend the tenement stairs to the corniced, eau-de-nil dining kitchen with its Art Nouveau fireplace. Everyone is welcomed with a nip of dry sherry and a delicate cheese biscuit in the shape of the Queen of Tarts' crown logo that also adorns the menus on each table. It's the prelude to what Angela describes as "a proper afternoon tea – with a twist", complete with savouries as well as iced biscuits, sumptuous cakes, toasted English muffins and chocolate-dipped hazelnut meringues. This is the real, artisan bakery deal, not the fashion-conscious, pink cupcake tokenism spawned by Sex and the City.

The first savoury – "Storm in a Teacup" – is a cup filled with what could be smoky Lapsang Souchong but is in fact a mushroom consomm. And what looks at first glance like brown sugar lumps in the china sugar bowl are actually tarragon croutons. Next come Welsh rarebit on toast triangles, then cucumber sandwiches sexed-up by tangy Marmite butter, and a rich roast-tomato quiche.

Among today's tea-takers are Kay, a graphic designer, who says she likes to try anything new on the city's food scene, partly because her husband owns a caf in Canonmills. She's soon nose-to-nose with Josie, a fellow gardening enthusiast, and the two women discuss the best way to train a clematis, as they spread rhubarb jam on to Angela's spiced scones. Josie grows rhubarb in her garden in south Edinburgh and was meant to supply Angela with more for today, but she's been over-generous giving it away recently and there's none left. "And the chickens have been pecking at mine," Libby chimes in, "they like the leaves."

At the next table are George and Liz, a laid-back Leith couple, talking to Marina, a quiet but friendly Ukrainian living at Inverleith. They have quickly established a common interest: football. The soup is going down particularly well with Marina; George is relishing the cucumber and Marmite butter sandwiches almost as much as the chat about Dynamo Kiev. To Josie's delight, Liz later reveals that she once had a job in Patrick Thomson's caf.

Any concerns Angela might have had about putting random strangers together have vanished like the steam from a kettle: "It's a great opportunity for everyone here to strike up conversations with people that they wouldn't normally meet," she points out – and it's obviously working, as the atmosphere has quickly become chatty and relaxed. I suspect she may have trouble getting them all to leave. "This is a really original event," says Bridget, who works at the firm that Angela recently joined. "I bet Americans would go mad for it – she'd be swamped with bookings!"

Her colleague Anne adds: "So much thought must have gone into this, like the crockery and linen which came from Angela's relatives. It all feels really authentic, not contrived. Angela's such a warm person and this seems like a true expression of her character."

Pippa, a forthright Australian and ex-BBC producer, who's been successfully transplanted to the New Town and is now chairman of Alexander McCall Smith's Really Terrible Orchestra, is sharing Anne and Bridget's table and adds to their chorus of approval. "They're a very warm and thoughtful family, I think. And those English muffins with lemon-curd cream really hit the spot…"

The afternoon tea ritual is clearly in no danger of dying out, Bridget goes on, "but it is becoming more expensive and exclusive, a five-star hotel treat rather than a homely tradition". This first Queen of Tarts event carries no charge, because customers are being asked to make a donation to Westerlea Early Years charity through Capability Scotland instead, though future teas will cost 20 a ticket.

Queen of Tarts already has more than 100 followers on Facebook, and 54 on Twitter and bookings have been taken for the next pop-up tea on 26 June. "We might hold that one in Libby's garden," Angela says, "it's a good, accessible space and it's also where the chickens live."

It's time for me to leave and let them get on with it. Everyone here – including all those who came solo – is engaged in a conversation that shows no sign of fading, and the cakes, biscuits, tea and coffee served by a still-smiling Libby and Geraldine are being consumed with enthusiasm. Speaking to Angela later, I ask if Queen of Tarts – which obviously involved a huge amount of work, from its viral-marketing conception via the baking of cakes and ironing of napkins to being the diligent and welcoming host – has lived up to expectations.

"The way we wanted it to be, in terms of style and atmosphere, was spot on," she says. "What I was really bowled over by, though, were the guests' comments about the homely ambience and authenticity. We were very happy that they bought into that. It would have been good to see more men there, though." The event also reaped an impressive 185 in cash donations to the charity.

Asked whether this is the first step towards opening a permanent caf in commercial premises, its creator says: "Possibly, yes – but we'd absolutely have to be able to replicate the ambience that we've got in the house, because that's what makes it unique. It's good to do this as a pop-up event first; it lets us refine the procedure and get the menu just right. We want to make sure what we're doing is absolutely perfect."

Find "Queen of Tarts, Edinburgh" on Facebook and Twitter (@Queen_of_Tarts) for details of future events