Thank you very much to Ricky for sending me a sample of this. I was quiet overwhelmed by the aroma of the dry leaves. They really smelt like a rose bush. It didn’t smell overly synthetic at all.
And it tastes like a rose—just like a rose. I like strong flavors and I like it when teas defy expectations. No daintiness at all here: it’s really like a rose. The tea gets lost amidst the rose.
I had a bunch of conflicting contradictory thoughts. I wanted more tea in my roses. Yet this tea was heavily evocative. I could imagine it being drunk by the Pre-Raphaelite painters. I could imagine it being on foot lotion or in perfume, as others have noted.
Most of all it made me really miss my mother. It’s one of those times when I really wish I could call her up and say “You wouldn’t believe what I just drank!” And she’d get excited. And we would have a long talk ranging from roses to beverages to a special bush that somebody planted in 1904.
So it is certainly an old-fashioned experience for me although I imagine that the ability to infuse tea with such exceptional flavor must be a newish technique.
I have no idea if I will wake up in a few days or a few weeks or a few months and NEED to buy a full container of this or if it will waft away into oblivion like yesterday’s perfume. I’m certainly glad I tried it but I wonder if it isn’t simply a novel-Tea.