__Morgana__

There are nice big pieces of orange peel and smaller, pretty reddish petals in among the tea. In the packet, it does have an orange smell (in a baby aspirin orange/creamsicle sort of way), and although I do get the note that is called cheesecake, I am smelling, more than cheesecake, a fairly strong coconut scent.

The orange/coconut also comes out in the aroma of the steeped tea, while the creaminess associated with cheesecake comes out more in the flavor along with a small amount of orange. I did not find the tea discernible except for a slight bitterness in the finish. The liquor is yellow-green with suspended particles in it.

The orange flavor in this doesn’t have the strength and sweetness I recall tasting in the Orange Creamsicle, but I do find that these teas differ from cup to cup depending on how the flavoring agents have been distributed.

That said, this is one of the more flavorful of the NecessiTeas flavored green teas I have sampled, probably behind Raspberry Jasmine and Orange Creamsicle, and maybe Strawberry Lemonade. But my standards have become somewhat pickier since I sampled those.

Hat trick! The third from my original group of “starter tea” boxes I’m saying goodbye to in one day. Woot!

This is not one I will likely revisit, now that I have a better idea of what I like in chai, even decaf versions.

I wasn’t familiar with Ontario Ice Wine, I just requested the sample because it sounded interesting.

But as I’m wont to do, I satisfied my curiousity about Ontario Ice Wine by looking it up. Here’s some information, for the also-curious:

http://winesofontario.org/MediaCentre/html/Icewine.htm

This was the tiniest of the little samples, not even enough for half a cup. Its leaves look like fairly basic, plain black tea leaves but the smell is very distinctive. A sweet, wine/grape scent, like a dessert wine (which, having read the article at the above link, I now know isn’t surprising). Not having had Ice Wine, I must liken it to something I have had. Sauterne?

The aroma of the steeped tea is grapier, or perhaps raisinier than it is winey, and it’s sweet. It has something else going on as well. Dates? And also seems to have a floral note. The color is orange/brown and on the light side.

There is a dusky, wine taste to the tea, but it isn’t as sweet as the aroma would lead one to expect. I enjoyed it, but it isn’t a stand out for me.

Finished up my box of this, which was among my “starter teas.” It’s very mildly spiced when drunk with milk and sweetener, which has become my preferred method when I can’t engage in the stovetop method. Too mild for me, I discovered, when it comes to chai, though without milk it has more bite. But I thank it for helping me to hone my ever growing and evolving tastes.

I’ve had this sitting in a little bowl on my counter that is overflowing with other samples on my short list of things to try for a couple of weeks now. I decided that today was the day, since I’m celebrating the demise of two boxes of bagged black tea today from my “starter” teas.

I haven’t (knowingly) had a Ceylon black before by itself, though it does make appearances in black blends so I’m sure I’ve tasted it intermingled with other things. But solo, this is a first.

I really liked the look of the dry leaves. They’re dark and pretty and vaguely twiggy. I thought they’d make a very attractive nest for a very small bird, or a lovely, very small basket if they could be woven into such a thing. This may sound odd, but their smell is warm. The air around them gives off the impression of being some degrees warmer than the surrounding air. I haven’t experienced this before and thought it was a cool thing. They don’t have a very loud smell, in fact they’re less aromatic than just about all the other Samovar samples I’ve tried, as I recall. They do have a fruity smell, that is also somewhat like tobacco. Like a fruit flavored pipe tobacco. Cherry maybe.

After steeping, the aroma is of carmelized sugar, and a high, somewhat “narrow” note that might be wine or might be citrus. The tea is a lovely clear reddish tea color. A deep coppery color.

There’s a vaguely metallic note to the taste, though I must admit that I’m not sophisticated enough in my tasting of metals to be able to distinguish iron from zinc from copper. It’s a full, sweet flavor, with some malt, and some tang which could be either the aforementioned wine or citrus. It’s not as smooth as the other Samovar blacks I’ve tasted (which smoothness I had come to regard as a sort of trademark) but this could also be because I steeped this one a bit longer than I did the others because I was feeling adventurous today. Still, it’s not bumpy either. Not harsh. There’s a bit of toastiness and a coffee-like quality, not so much in the taste as in the overall impression of the flavor and body.

But is there raspberry?

Yes, with this caveat. My mother was a big crossword puzzle worker and she used to tell me that to be good at crossword puzzles you had to “throw your mind out of focus” a little, to be receptive to meanings you might not think of initially. To get the raspberry taste while the tea was hot, I had to throw my mind out of focus a bit. It’s there in the aroma, and in the aftertaste.

And, as I just discovered when I sipped what was left in the cup after typing to this point, it’s much more readily identifiable when the tea is cooler.

Wet, the leaves have an interesting reddish tinge. One of the other notes mentioned they smelled like tomatoes, so I had to give them a sniff. They do! (More like tomato sauce to me, actually.)

It’s not my favorite Samovar black, but it’s still an excellent drink. Onto the shopping list it goes.

Golden Moon sample No. 13 of 31. Have been eyeing this since I pulled it out of the basket a couple of days ago and waiting for work from home Wednesday when I have all my necessary tea accoutrements near me to give it a go.

I’m pretty sure this is my first Irish Breakfast. So I don’t have anything to compare it to on that score. Also, I think this one should probably steep a bit longer than I steeped it for full effect. That said…

They weren’t kidding about “the beautiful golden tips highlighted against deep black leaves.” Though I’d say the leaves were more brown than black and straight in shape, the tips are huge and an amazing contrast in color as well as in texture. The nose of the dry leaves is roasty, even slightly smoky, and seriously malty in a Guinness Stout sort of way. I am guessing that that is what characterizes Irish Breakfast, though I haven’t yet looked it up.

The aroma after steeping is sweet, sugary, definitely malty and interestingly complex. Maybe I’m just suggestible today, but they told me there were cherries and I found cherries, they told me there were prunes and I found prunes, they told me there was honey and I found honey. I didn’t really find hazlenut, though there was something I could call nutty. In addition, I detected a chocolate note and a caramel note. The liquor is a very lovely deep tawny red-orange-brown.

The flavor is smooth, sweet but not too sweet, with some deep, fruity notes. I definitely tasted prunes, which made me smile. The maltiness isn’t as great in the taste as in the aroma, but it is definitely the backdrop. I’d like to steep it stronger and see what that does. I was a little distracted by work (heavens to betsy!) as I was drinking, but since this is definitely tasty enough to enjoy again, I’m looking forward to exploring its mysteries further.

If breakfast blends are to tea as black is to shoes, soon my cupboard will be mimicking my closet. I don’t even remember how many pairs of black shoes I have. [hangs head in shame]

Finishing the last of this this morning. Oh, the clean, fresh feeling of more room in the tea cupboard! O joy! The rating and description is as I recalled from my previous note. Not something I will seek out now that I have been spoiled by some terrific loose leaf breakfast blends, but I appreciate its role in my continuing evolution in tea appreciation and admiration!

Biggest Loser Bob sold me on Extra Sugar Free Gum, so I have tried just about every flavor they have including their Strawberry Banana, and boy howdy if that wasn’t exactly the smell that I smelled when I opened up the sample packet. There were big hunks of crispy dried banana chips and smaller dried strawberries (with green tea leaves stuck to them) among more green leaves that looked like sencha.

After steeping, the tea was a very pale greenish yellow color with an aroma of sweet strawberry and banana. I got all excited because I thought I might actually be about to experience a flavored green tea success story. But the taste was not nearly as sweet (or indeed, as intense) as the smell, and there was an almost bitter downward turn at the finish. There was something else that was interesting; a marine taste that reminded me of a very mild fish oil, like in omega 3 capsules. It must have been from the tea rather than the fruit. I’m open to such tastes in tea, particularly green tea, as many of them are said to taste like kelp or other seaweeds. But it wasn’t the best pairing with strawberry and banana.

I thought this tea had more flavor than the Strawberry Daiquiri of last night, but it still didn’t have the depth of flavor I was hoping for. I noticed in the description there’s a suggestion of serving this iced. Honestly, I don’t think it would stand up to icing.

Knowing I had another caffeinated evening requirement (since I needed to stay up to watch The Biggest Loser) I tried my sample of this tonight after dinner.

There were some pretty cream colored flower petals among the dark brownish leaves, though I could not smell jasmine. I did smell some wonderful smells, though. Vanilla, brown sugar, and yes, maple syrup.

The liquor was a light brown/orange color with a sweet aroma of vanilla/maple syrup. There was also a whiff of something else, something really interesting. It reminded me of incense, though it has been so long since I burned any I can’t remember what kind. Sandalwood maybe? In any case, I really enjoyed it. Made me feel all Bohemian, like I should be wearing a long, diaphanous Indian-print skirt, sandals, big hoop earrings and a peace sign medallion on a leather thong around my neck.

There was something silky smooth about the mouth feel, as if the mapleness was actually emanating from a few dollops of syrup dropped into the tea. It tasted much better than I’d expected for some reason. Vanilla and sweetness, and if I closed my eyes, I could almost taste waffles with syrup and whipped cream.

I wish I could tell you more about the tea itself, but as with the other tiny Herbal Infusions samples, it’s a bit of a tease. I wasn’t easy to get a handle on the tea flavor before reaching the bottom of the half cup brew.

I can see buying more of this to play around with it a bit more and decide if it was just the right taste at the right time, or more than that.

I was another lucky recipient of a sample of this, though it has taken me until now to taste it. Sigh.

The flowers are so pretty! Small, with big yellow centers. Some of the flowers are pretty much only the centers as the petals have disconnected from them. The scent, as Cait said is odd. It’s extremely pungent and a little disturbing. Pollen, mixed with… salted wax? Sap-filled plastic? Fortunately it smooths out quite a bit after steeping and becomes much more green and plant like, almost bready.

It steeps to a light yellow/green, not too far removed from clear. The flavor is gentle, floral and sweet with a hint of chlorophylly bitterness. It suggests nectar and pollen, and something a tiny bit like cauliflower. I suppose the nectar and pollen part aren’t surprising given that it is made of flowers.

I also think this may be a taste you either love right away or you gradually acquire. It may be that I am in the acquiring stage, or I may not be able to get past the smell of the dry flowers.

Though I’m not sure this is for me, I appreciate getting the chance to try it. Thanks, JK Tea Shop.

Some people bang themselves over their heads with 2×4s. I keep trying flavored green teas. When will I learn?

I placed this order for samples from The NecessiTeas mostly to try some of their flavored blacks since my success rate with their greens had been so low, but while I was at it, I went ahead and ordered samples of the greens I hadn’t yet tasted. There were only three, so it didn’t seem overly masochistic.

Having experienced more and different kinds of green tea between my original set of samples and this one, I can now make some observations about the tea I wasn’t prepared to make then. I now recognize the green base (at least for this tea) as sencha. It has the leaf shape, and yields the green/yellow liquor color with little particles suspended in it I recognize from my Den’s sampler experience.

This tea, however, doesn’t have anything like the flavor that the Den’s had. There is no juicy, vegetal goodness — it’s just a green whisper in the background. The main flavor is strawberry, but it isn’t a robust strawberry, certainly not the strawberry I would expect in a daiquiri. It, too, is a mere whisper. To be more precise, it’s not even really strawberry so much as a vague strawberry-flavored sweetness, like a Jolly Rancher that’s been dissolved in at least a bathtub’s worth of water. This is unfortunate, because in the packet, the dry mixture smelled promising — a strong strawberry flavor and an identifiable undercurrent of rum.

There was no appreciable difference in flavor after steeping 1.5 minutes as opposed to 1 minute.

This sounded like it had potential for a dessert option so I threw caffeine caution to the wind (I plan on staying up to watch 24 tonight anyway, so might as well). Dry leaves smell vaguely like Frango mints, and look like the black/green interspersion of mint with black tea.

The aroma of the steeped tea is odd. It’s got mint, it’s got chocolate, but they’re not mixing particularly well. There’s a sort of strange, spicy warm plastic smell to it. The liquor is a reddish orange, but the sample was pretty small so it may be a little weaker in color than it would be were it a full cup with appropriately measured leaves.

The tea tastes like a mint tea to which has been added a little bit of melted baking chocolate, which is to say the chocolate is not at all sweet. I like the taste, but I think it could be improved with a little lactose to sweeten it up. The chocolate and mint steal the show here. I was just getting the beginnings of the tea’s taste right when my cup ranneth out.

I think this shows enough promise to merit trying it again, unless I should happen to run across a chocolate mint in the interim that knocks my socks off.

Used up the last of the bags in the home stash this morning, though I still have about half a box at work. Of all the bags I’ve been experimenting with, this is one of the ones I will remember most fondly. Miss is probably too strong a word, though. I’m grateful to this tea for making me curious enough about darjeeling to go on to broaden my experiments into loose leaf and undoubtedly better things ahead.

My sample is called “French Verveine” on its very elegant black and dark gold jacket, but in double checking my order detail and the web site it appears there is really only one Harney product called Verveine, so this must be it!

It’s hard to imagine how I have thus far managed to escape experiencing lemon verbena in the flesh, so to speak. But as far as I know or can remember, I have. I was expecting an alternative to other lemon flavored tisanes, but it soon became apparent that this is something entirely different.

The leaves are humongous, light green, and curl inward along their main vein/vertical axis, and apparently, they are weightless. I put the entire packet on the scale and only came out with enough for half a cup? (Perhaps I am going to regret this?)

Dry, they smell nothing at all like lemon; they smell like a savory spice of some kind. Dried thyme or dried sage, I think. Or maybe even dried basil. Or notes suggestive of all three.

Steeped, it’s a very dark yellow color, and the aroma still has nothing that is smelling to me like the lemon I expected to smell. There is a hint of lemon, but it is more along the lines of the juice from a roasted herbed lemon chicken. Savory and brothy.

And that is pretty much how it tastes as well. This doesn’t taste like a lemon tisane, it tastes like a savory spice tisane with a subtle lemon note to it. It’s tasty, but in the sense of the spicy taste of a very well-spiced poultry stuffing with some lemon squeezed into it.

I am wondering if the scale lied to me and I should not have used the full packet? I’m going to resteep with more water to see what that’s like. I am making this as a full cup (approx. 8 oz) this time instead of half of that.

Indeed, more water lessens the brothiness considerably, or perhaps it’s the second steep effect. It’s still a very savory taste, though.

Hmm. I’m not going to rate this as I’m not sure I prepared it correctly, and because I have nothing to compare it to. In reading about verbena on the web, it seems this is supposed to have a “bright lemon taste” which I’m not getting. Mine is definitely full-bodied, but the lemon is not the main flavor I’m getting, nor is it bright. I’d describe it as sultry.

Finished up the last of this tonight and am de-cupboarding. (Why do I feel compelled to say “ta da!”?)

Golden Moon sample No. 12 of 31.

Fate apparently wanted me to drink this one, too, right away — because I drew it out of the basket on the heels of another green and so happened to have the water in the Zo still at 175. (The next one to come out after this was Irish Breakfast, so we’ll be waiting a while to drink that one…)

I’m sure this is the first Ceylon green tea I’ve had, which is interesting in and of itself.

The dry leaves aren’t as deep green as other greens I’ve had. They’re a little browner, with some that almost reach yellow, even. They smell a little toasty. They seem to have some oolong-like characteristics, except in shape where they are long and for the most part not curly though some are almost balled up.

Liquor is a very pale yellow green and has a sweet, vegetal aroma that is similar to that of Chinese greens I have had, but less. By which I mean it suggests a light-bodied tea. Which is, in fact, borne out by the drinking.

In taste, this tea has less depth of flavor than the Teavana Three Kingdoms Mao Feng, which I found lacking in depth. Less vegetal, and not particularly buttery, though it does have some sweetness. I was looking for the subtle candied pineapple and didn’t find it. Candied pineapple in my experience is extremely sugary and that is not this tea. I did, however, taste something that if I stretched (reach out with your feelings, Luke) suggested fresh pineapple, but ratcheted down several major increments from the best fresh, juicy, sweet, pineapple.

I’m glad I got a chance to try something other than a Chinese or Japanese green tea. I probably would not have sought out a Ceylon green. I don’t like this well enough to order more, though.

Golden Moon sample No. 11 of 31. Plucked from the basket at random.

I may have used too much water in steeping these leaves. I had about enough for .9 cups in the sample. I played a little with water levels over the course of several steeps.

The dry leaves are long, and silvery green. Snow seems an apt description; it’s like you’re seeing the green of the leaves through a light dusting of white. I didn’t notice any fuzziness to them but I was a little rushed as it was right before dinner so I didn’t get to do a relaxed examination of the leaves. For me it wasn’t an obvious snow, certainly nothing near Christmas tree flocking. Rather, it was all in gradations of color.

When I first started with this one, I thought this was going to be the story of the tea that wasn’t there. The dry leaves don’t have a strong nose. It took a while to get my olfactory muscle memory working enough to detect something describable. When I finally could smell something I could put into words, the words that came were “salty green.” Like the plants in a marsh leading into an ocean. The saltiness also had a sharpness. I know this will sound weird, but it reminded me of the smell of the brown powder in Lipton Onion Soup Mix.

The liquor was virtually clear. It was only a slight green tinge that kept this from being the invisible tea. Aroma-wise, also nothing very strong. Dew, maybe pollen. The borderline between green and floral.

The taste was similarly subtle but surprisingly complex. It took several steeps for me to get a handle on and appreciate the taste. I took it through four steeps. The complexity gradually started to show itself; at the end of four steeps, I wished I had more of this so I could follow where it led.

Here is what I tasted, in no particular order: a light film of butter, a grainy nuttiness (like the kind you find in “Grape Nuts”), a little whiff of salt, a sweet spicy/salty flavor that reminded me of sauteed leeks at times and at others of sauteed scallions. Then I read the notes here and saw macademia nuts. Yeah, I can see that too; it’s a sweet, mild, buttery, salty nuttiness that I associate with those.

After steeping, the leaves looked the color of overcooked asparagus or green beans, a faded olive green. The silver was gone, but they were still pretty.

So yeah, I want to give this another try. It’s surprisingly interesting and even a little challenging, and like good literature, I think there is a lot more there than I found on a first “read.”

This is the end, beautiful friend[s]. The last of the teabag notes from the initial round of overbuying when some mysterious force moved me to become a tea drinker and appreciatrix. Yay!

The only other honeybush I have had thus far is the Tazo bagged version, which I appreciate for its versatility. It’s a pretty good all purpose sweetener for too-tart fruit blends. It’s also fairly smooth and flavorful on its own.

The Numi bags smell greener and woodier than the Tazo, which smelled like apricots to me. I don’t get an apricot smell here so much as — honey! And that repeats in the aroma after steeping, with a reedy note similar to what I recall was present in the Numi Green Rooibos. This brews slightly darker than the Tazo.

It’s a greener, reedier, less sweet taste as well, which makes me wonder whether this is less oxidized than what Tazo used. But there’s no information on the Numi web site that would help determine this. The honey note is present, but it seems to move around some rather than being continuously present. Sometimes it pops with a little burst of flavor on a particular taste bud, but the overall impression is that it is less pervasive and less sweet than the Tazo.

This could make it more appealing for someone who really likes drinking honeybush plain. This describes me only very occasionally, and when I am moved to drink it plain I think I’d be likely to go for the sweeter alternative. In any case, as I’m mostly using honeybush as a natural flavor enhancer to bring out sweetness in tart fruit blends, I’d be likely to choose the Tazo for that purpose as well.

Second to last of the original bagged tea splurge left to write about. Woo hoo!

I wanted to drink this after the White Nectar Osmanthus Spring because the Moonlight Spice is, as the name suggests, heavily spiced and I feared it would influence my palate if I tasted in the other direction.

The white tea in this one is identified on the packaging as Pai Mu Tan (aka white peony). In my admittedly v. limited knowledge obtained from reading books about tea, I would suspect this is the base for the White Nectar as well as it seems to be less costly than other white teas that contain only buds.

When I sniff the bags, the dominant smell is the cinnamon/orange/clove “Constant Comment” combo, followed by ginger, followed by nonspecific citrus. The liquor’s color is quite dark and orange/brown, almost like that of a standard black tea. Its aroma is mostly cinnamon and some clove. It reminds me of the smell of a spiced “tea” my mother used to make for my father when he had colds. I am fairly sure there was no tea in it at all, just cinnamon, clove and perhaps some other spices.

The tea has a slightly tart taste, probably from the combination of the citrus and hibiscus. I note that it contains dried lime, which may be the same lime from the Dry Desert Lime tisane and which is quite tart. The Moonlight Spice is much less tart than that. I can taste cinnamon and orange, and a little ginger. I can taste the tea only slightly, and I may only be able to taste it because I have the taste of the White Nectar still resident in my personal RAM from the earlier tasting.

It’s not bad, but it isn’t something I think I’d choose if I were going to choose a flavored white tea. The flavors are pretty strong for the delicacy of white tea to stand up to. And if I were going to choose tea with this spice profile, I would likely choose one with a black tea base, a tisane or chai. I wouldn’t cast that in stone, though. This could be a good medicinal choice for when a small amount of caffeine would provide a boost and when black tea is too strong or rich.

I find myself within reach of something of a milestone. I only have three kinds of tea from my original splurge left to write notes on! Wonder if I can finish tonight? If not tonight, I should definitely be able to tomorrow. Then on to the even more dubious milestone of finishing drinking them all. Sometimes I leap before I look, as was the case here. Had I looked, I would probably have skipped bags altogether and gone straight to loose leaf. But live and learn.

Before I started on this journey, I didn’t know there was such a thing as white tea. I knew about blacks and greens, certainly, and even oolong. But the sheer existence of white was a surprise. When I first read about it, I thought it sounded like something I’d like. And now that I’ve tried some, I do — though I have yet to figure out where it best fits into my day. It’s not an early morning tea (need heavily caffeinated teas for that) and it’s not an afternoon tea, really (oolong, or green fits there). It’s not really a dessert tea because I’m prefer strong flavors in those. And then I worry that by late evening it’s too late for even it’s reputedly small amount of caffeine. This may be the reason that of all the boxes of teabags I have in my cupboard still, the white tea boxes have the most left in them.

It could also be that I haven’t yet taken the time to perfect how to steep them, and so they intimidate me a little. At least, moreso than other teas. I seem to have more success with lower temperatures and longer steeps — the flavors seem to come out a little bit more that way. But one day I’ll set aside some time and do an organized test of various steeping temperatures and times for different kinds of whites, and then maybe I can overcome my feelings of intimidation.

This is one of the three types of bagged tea I have left to write a note about, and one of the others is also a Numi white tea. The type of white tea this one is is not identified on the bag’s packaging.

The bag has a dusky, nonspecific plant smell, with a jungle flower feel to it. The liquor has an apricot color. The aroma is dusky floral, too, with something I think, from what I have read, is usually referred to as stone fruit? In any case, I don’t find it easily identifiable as a specific fruit — it could be peach, apricot, nectarine, or a combination. There’s a sweetness to it.

It tastes very much like it smells. Heavy, dark floral notes with a suggestion of fruit. The aftertaste is surprisingly fresh, and a tiny bit sweet.

It will be interesting to try other Osmanthus white teas, now that I have a baseline. This one is reasonably tasty for a bagged tea.

I just had a nice nap with my youngest, and needed something to clear the cobwebs after waking up. So, another mini-sample. This one was enough for about half a cup. I made it in a small cup but even so I may have added a bit too much water. The liquor was light orange/brown and I suspect it ought to have been darker.

There wasn’t much smell to it until it was infused, and then it gave off a very nice apple/cinnamon aroma which does remind me of apple pie filling. I don’t smell crust. There’s a current of malt/sugar underneath from the tea.

The apple and cinnamon is present in the flavor (no crust there either). I don’t taste much tea, but I suspect that this would be tasty if the tea base had a stronger presence. If I had it to do over again I would have used even less water and attempted to brew this stronger. 205 is usually enough for blacks for me, but maybe a bit hotter would make the flavor come out more as well.

For my Friday fun, I briefly considered a themed set of three tasting notes. Not similar teas, just three teas organized thematically. It seems like a fun idea, and I may yet do it so I won’t reveal the theme, not that I would expect a tremendous number of people would either remember it or were familiar with it in the first place as it is rather a niche item. Can you tell that I have limited creative outlets these days?

But I don’t think I have time to do the themed notes and also taste this tea, which I have been waiting to taste for three weeks now. I knew from what others had said about it that it would be pretty special, so I wanted to taste it at a time when I was alone in quiet, which is rarely the case in this house. Today I’m working from home and I’ve just finished most of what was on my plate for today so I’m taking a small break before the last push, and I am taking advantage of the quietness and aloneness to do it.

I am finding that oolongs are probably my favorite kind of tea. I say probably because I really love blacks, too, so it’s a toss up but for this. Oolongs have a rare gift that I truly appreciate and that they may only have in common with pu erhs, in my experience. They can really transport me to another physical, mental and emotional dimension. They’re supremely relaxing to me, and yet they also provide that state of quiet alertness I’ve read so much about. The seem well matched to meditation. I may test that out at some point: drink oolong and then meditate.

This oolong is an oolong’s oolong. It has a whole lot of special going on.

When I opened the sample packet, I noticed immediately that the leaves smelled like flowery butter. Though they are less floral-smelling that those of the Life in Teacup An Xi Tie Guan Yin Grade II modern green style, the floral note they do have is similar. There’s gardenia, and more. Where the LIT had a pure, delicate floral note, these have a stronger one that is, perhaps, boosted by the creaminess of the buttery fragrance.

The leaves range in shades of green from fairly dark, almost forest, to much lighter, and are tightly curled, almost to the point of pearliness. They are fairly small, but substantial-looking.

First steep: 2 min. A light yellow, very slightly green liquor. Intensely floral, intensely dewy, creamy, rich aroma. Silky smooth in the mouth and tastes of flowers and creamy butter, with a fresh green note. It’s like a more intensely flavored, fuller-bodied version of the LIT. A more grown up version of the LIT.

Second steep: 3 min. A darker yellow green. I’m looking for the fresh baked bread, and unbelievably, it is there. The melt-on-your-tongue, white, fluffy innards of a fresh Italian or French bread loaf while it’s still hot, drizzled with sweet butter and consumed outdoors under an arbor on the grounds of a Tuscan villa or in a garden in the suburbs of Paris.

Third steep: 3:30 min. The agony of the leaves leads to having to transfer them into a bigger filter. They’re completely unwound and voluminous. This steep is all about the dairy. It may be milk, it may be butter, it may be cream, it may be all three at the same time or in pairs, but it is all dairy all the time. The LIT is like a baby’s breath and lovely. This is like burying your nose in those soft baby neck skin folds (clean ones!), and lovely as well.

Fourth steep: 4 min. The greenness of the oolong emerges this round. It isn’t what I’d call vegetal, more the greenness of the floral aspect. The taste of the fragrance of fresh flower stems, green but inescapably floral. The dairy has receded, though it is still present. Though I can’t test it, I feel as though my breath probably smells very fresh right now. :-)

Fifth steep: 4:30 min. It’s like the tea is waving goodbye and receding slowly into the distance. The silkiness is tapering off, as is the butteryness. What is left is flowers, like the memory of perfume on a pillow. It’s a graceful taper, but I feel the tea is telling me it’s over until next time.

This was an incredibly wonderful way to refresh on a Friday after a long week. This is something that I must have in my life, at least until I find something that tops it. Along with the LIT, I now have two favorite oolongs. I feel moved to bump up the LIT a bit since I enjoyed it, in its own way, and since there is now, no matter how much it may be clogged with other things, a place reserved for both of these in my cupboard.

Golden Moon sample No. 10 of 31. Hard to believe I’m a third of the way through. What a fun ride this is. I’m glad I have 2/3 left to look forward to.

This one is making my pulse rate go up and my palms sweat a bit because it’s another green/black blend. My last GM green/black didn’t go so well and I was disappointed because for those who got the steeping right it seemed to be enjoyable. I think I steeped too hot last time, so this time I’m lowering the temperature. However, I’m still sweating a bit because now I fear I may be shortchanging the black part of the blend.

The dry blend is a mix of colors, shapes and textures that gives it a pleasing look. Bright green flecks of mint, dark brown spears of black tea, little dark green gunpowder spheres, and some brown shapes that are likely the vanilla bean pieces, though they are smaller and not as easily identifiable as in other vanilla flavored teas I have tried. The mint fragrance is similar to that of the Moroccan Mint. It’s those Girl Scout thin mints again! But it’s creamy in a way it wasn’t before, with the addition of the vanilla fragrance. I’m thinking mint ice cream now. There’s also a rich, slightly toasty, slightly malty undertone.

I’m going to try to hit 180 (tricky business with the Zo as it is between settings), and steep for 3 minutes. And dang, I missed it on the way down and on the way up as well. Oh well. I’ll use 175.

A clear, light amber infusion. The vanilla and the mint are evident in the aroma and about equally balanced, though the mint predominates slightly. There’s an intermittent cocoa note and a somewhat toasty green one as well.

Ah. This is better than my last green/black attempt. There is no harsh sensation in the back of my throat. I do notice the back of my throat while drinking this which is unusual and which is no doubt resulting from the power of suggestion. I wish I didn’t notice it, but I can’t be sure it’s the tea causing me to. The tea is minty tasting with a softness to it that must be the effect of the vanilla. There is also a sweet, “dark green” flavor from the gunpowder that is most evident in the finish. The black tea may be contributing to the sweetness as well.

Second steep with slightly hotter water, about F183 degrees. This is definitely more in the ballpark of the correct steeping temperature for this. The flavor is richer all around at this temperature, and the black tea is speaking up and contributing some maltiness in a way it wasn’t at 175.

I like this well enough, but I am not sure I’d need both this and the Moroccan Mint in my cabinet at the same time or whether they are similar enough that one would do. I’d really like to try them side by side to see.

I’m in the mood for chai. Simply because it’s near me. Funny, but when it’s near me, I’m in the mood for chai.

This was actually on the big side as far as my (free, thanks!) Herbal Infusions samples have gone. It’s enough for 1+ cups of tea. But it isn’t quite half a tablespoon, so I’m leery of trying to make it on the stovetop. Instead, I’m planning to steep like a black tea and then add some milk/sweetener.

The vanilla note in the dry leaf mixture is striking and very appealing. The others in the stable of chai spices smell like their comforting selves.

Once made into chai, this has an interesting note that stands out in both the aroma and the taste. It’s not vanilla, it’s something else. Time to take a look at the ingredients and try to figure out what it is. Here they are, according to the web site: Premium black tea, calendula petals, chopped and powdered ginger, cardamon, coriander, cinnamon, cloves, black pepper, natural flavors

I’m thinking it must be either a flavor added by the calendula petals, or coriander that I’m tasting because those are the only two ingredients that don’t seem necessarily common to most of the other chais I have tasted. I suppose it could also be vanilla, on second thought. Though it’s not the vanilla flavor I’ve experienced in other teas. It’s almost fig-like.

Notice something else about those ingredients? I suppose one of the natural flavors is vanilla, because there isn’t anything else identified as vanilla in the mix.

So here’s where I’m coming out. It’s better than the Numi chais I’ve tasted because the spices are stronger and hold up to milk (and the black pepper probably single handedly accomplishes that and is missing from the Numi). It’s about on a par with the Tazo chai, maybe slightly better, and perhaps would be significantly better if prepared via stovetop method. But as prepared today, it’s not as interesting a mix of flavors as the Golden Moon pu erh chai I had earlier today and it’s not as smooth and near perfect as Samovar’s. Good, with perhaps a potential for greatness.