Tea. America’s newest meal is tea.

Seeing a friend? Teatime’s cheaper than lunch.

Discussing business? Teatime’s shorter than dinner.

Handle some obligation? Forget cocktails. Orange pekoe is classier than Johnnie Walker Black.

Pouring entails more rituals than curtsying for the queen.

Ellen Easton’s “Afternoon Tea: Tips, Terms and Traditions” says it began with China’s Emperor Shen Nung in Year 2737 (which is when my housekeeper last cleaned our kettle).

1770 King George III smuggled plants into England.

The earliest silver teapot sits in the Victoria and Albert Museum.

If it’s weddings, tea for two or just for flashing your new face-lift, invites need be sent “at least six weeks in advance.”

On account of Bloomers and T-shirts clash with savories and crumpets, protocol thus states “the type of dress required.”

Page 7: “The fewer the guests, the more elaborate the preparations.” And shove the paper plates. Also no cuppa with Tupper. We’re talking porcelain.

Aroma. Melted chocolates, fresh scones. Afternoon tea — pastries, finger sandwiches — originated in early 19th century. Seems the 7th Duchess of Bedford needed a snack and, probably, Cook was out of Skippy. Anyhow, the custom eventually sailed to the New World. 1773’s Boston Tea Party was in all the papers, right?

1904 brought iced tea. 1913 Ellen Easton’s ancestors packaged tea bags. 1954 Instant Tea. 1970 Sugar cubes. 1990s pre-bottled Lipton and Snapple stuff.

Mind: Water poured from a height allows more oxygen — whateverthehell that means. What follows is 17 de rigeur steps:

Like No. 10: Place strainer above cup in close proximity. 11: Teapot to the right above the cup. Spout faces right. 15: Milk and sugar tongs on tray left side above the plate. Sugar, left; milk, right, with handle to the right. 17. Tea cozy used only after service begins and tea decanted.

Napkins. To plate’s left; closed edge left. To excuse yourself never put napkin on chair. Soiled, it could damage upholstery. Place to your setting’s left. Upon completion, refold and replace to same position.

Spoon. Do not stir in sweeping motions. With spoon at six o’clock position, fold the liquid three times towards the 12 o’clock position. Replace spoon on saucer’s right side.

Cup. Never wave or hold it aloft. At a buffet, saucer stays in your lap with left hand. Maneuver cup with right hand. At table, tea police say to raise the cup only and replace in saucer between sips.

Tea bag. Place used bag on a saucer’s side. Do not squeeze the thing by wrapping the string around. It’s no yo-yo, you yo-yo.

And don’t loop your fingers through the handle or muzzle the cup in your palm.

Sugar cubes. Suppose servers just rubbed their nose or scratched some dandruff? They must use tongs not unhygienic fingers.

Lemon slice. Allowable for it to float in the teacup. Classy is to pre-wrap it in gauze so it doesn’t spritz anyone. Unclassy, for sure not done, is to poke your finger in and dredge the soggy blob out.

Pinky up: Forget it.

Original handleless tiny cups were held with thumb, index and middle fingers. Pinky up created balance.

Attention low-lifes: You don’t need that now.

Shove a pinky ring on it and stop trying to hang the thing out.

Teapot: Spout faces hostess or pourer.

Foods: The body needs warming so in cold weather it’s heartier, spicier. In summer it’s cucumber, tuna, watercress — light and airy.

Dumbwaiter. Not some stupid waitstaffer.

A portable device to transport hot food from one station to another.

Afternoon Tea — or Low Tea — is puddings, crustless tasties between 3 and 5 p.m.

High tea’s cold chicken, sliced meats, pot pies, between 5 and 7 p.m. and equals light supper. As if the host likes the guests but . . . only . . . maybe . . . not all that much.

One drinks tea. One does not take tea. Nor does one slurp the stuff.

“Not my cup of tea” comes from 15th-century Japan.

“No tea to him” indicated the host’s antipathy toward that particular individual.

So good luck.

Invite me.

And if your studio apartment lacks an infuser — a perforated porcelain ball wherein to contain the tea leaves — it’s OK.

Invite me anyway.