46 Tasting Notes
A very simple tea: darkly flavorful. If you like cinnamon, you’ll like it, and I imagine it would very nicely complement a plate of sugary pastries. I’m docking points because it’s a little boring and I can’t help compare it to other, more interesting blends (e.g., Harney & Sons’ “Hot Cinnamon Spice”).
Flavors: Bark, Cinnamon
What a polarizing tea! It’s easy to pinpoint why people either love it—or, in most cases, loathe it: the weird, warm spike of medicinal sour-sweetness that dominates any other flavors as you swallow. The reviewer who called the flavor “like warm [non-sugary] Tang” is absolutely right.
I must be one of the weird ones because I find this taste neither appealing nor particularly off-putting. Like most artificial things, It’s perfectly innocuous, even pleasing, until you start really homing in on it. (Which, to be fair, you’re supposed to do if you’re reviewing the tea…)
Flavors: Medicinal, Orange, Orange Zest, Tangy
Served plain, this tastes like a standard, somewhat uninteresting black tea with a little bit of a sweet aftertaste. Unobtrusive, and pleasant enough, but not something I’d go out of my way to drink.
Though I should note that I’m drinking a backlogged bag; it seems Bigelow changed their formula in the fall (?) of 2015, and this new formula has everyone on their site up in arms about how terrible it is. Purchase at your own risk…!
Sleepytime is so mild and soothing. The flavors of lemongrass and spearmint are noticeably present, but their sting is completely eradicated by the flowery chamomile. The tea is light-bodied and faintly sweet—but it could definitely take honey if that’s, your, you know, cup of tea.
I’d recommend this for its stated purpose of winding down, especially for those who find Tension Tamer too strong.
This tea looks and smells fresh and inviting. It’s pretty, actually…made of dried fruits with delicate edges, all light tan or peach or deep red. It reminds me of potpourri.
When I hold the tea in my mouth and swirl it around, I find a very nice flavor that’s very fruity and a little bit tart, like a berry compote. In fact, I think this would be a great complement to mixed-berry tea bread. However, I am yet again disappointed that the flavor is so subtle. If I just swallow the stuff without any ceremony, I get a little tingle of orange in my throat, but no complexity.
To be fair: 1) I’m addicted to black coffee, so maybe my threshold for “strong” is a little higher than most people’s; 2) this tea is evidently great when mixed with a green or black tea and served iced; and 3) my batch is more than a year old, and for a while I was storing it in the original packaging (i.e., a paper bag) rather than in an airtight container. I cannot speak to how this would influence the flavor. Does anyone know?
I’ve been saving this tea for some time, but I was rather stressed out today and decided to treat myself.
Of course, one the major selling points of a flowering tea is its appearance. This one took a long time to unfurl, but when it did it was lovely—even festive!—dull green, red, and white. I didn’t see the “arc” shape promised and pictured by Great Lakes, but it could’ve been that my narrow mug cramped the tea’s style.
In terms of taste, this tea was really comparable to Jasmine Dragon Pearl Green from Teavana (discussed in another recent review). Like Teavana’s jasmine green, Princess Amelie has a very delicate, innocuous flavor—so innocuous that even now, an hour after I put the bud in (without removing it), it’s only faintly bitter, and only upon swallowing. When I hold it in my mouth, it’s floral (…as one would hope!) and it smells sweetly aromatic, almost like perfume.
Flowering teas are relatively expensive, but they are marvelously cathartic. There is something very pure and metaphorical about watching the nondescript bud slowly and unhurriedly transform into something healthful and beautiful, a tangible reminder of mindfulness and patience.
I have a strong desire to like Yogi. In my mind they are a charming, honest little company run by Zen masters and herbalists, and they seem so sincere about their products. But then I try them and regret it deeply…
Unfortunately, Olivia and Auggy’s reviews are spot-on. It seems that Yogi tried to blend together every natural ingredient they could think of that promotes calmness and relaxation (just look at the description!) and then, discovering that the combination was nauseating, decided to try and mask the flavors with a surfeit of stevia. FAIL.
Contrary to Mary Poppins’ suggestion, you cannot in fact turn something distasteful into something delicious simply by drowning it with sweetener. Doubly so if your sweetener is stevia, which really does leave a weird, lingering taste in the mouth, sort of like aspartame on steroids. I was trying to place the uncomfortably familiar oral sensation I got from drinking “Bedtime” when I read Auggy’s review comparing it to vomiting and realized that she is absolutely right. (Though, I suppose if you’re used to stevia it may not faze you…in which case, disregard everything I wrote.)
As an added onus, “Bedtime” contains St. John’s Wort. For the uninformed (like me, until after I drank it!), this herb apparently interacts with many medications, including SSRIs, and can potentially cause some fun-sounding problems like “diaphoresis”, “mydriasis”, and “coma”. So do yourself a favor and check www.drugs.com before you even buy this tea.
…I’m relieved about the drug interactions, actually…it means I don’t have to feel guilty about not drinking any more of this!
*A quick note: It seems that “Yogi Tea” has recently rebranded itself as simply “Yogi” (probably because it manufactures cereal as well), so I’ve recategorized “Bedtime” appropriately. (You can see by comparison that they’ve redone their logo and box design, too!) There are still some older reviews of blends from “Yogi Teas”, but I’d suspect that newer reviewers will be commenting on teas from “Yogi”.