1165 Tasting Notes
The dry leaf smells promising as the bergamot isn’t too strong, oily or perfumey. Once steeped, the bergamot’s aroma takes a back seat to the malty, sweet black tea. The liquor color is a light brown-orange.
The flavor is quite nice. It’s like the GM Tippy Earl Grey would be without that bakey weird thing that bothered me about the GM.
I never thought I’d say this about an Earl Grey, but if anything, the bergamot could be a little stronger. Still, it’s quite enjoyable because the underlying tea is very tastey. It’s medium-to-light bodied, no bitterness, a little astringency. There’s a citrus and sugary tea aftertaste.
I have a lot more Earl Greys to try, but this is a strong contender.
Celebrating bidding farewell to this today as I polished off the last of the bags in the home stash (never mind that I still have about half a box left at work).
I became used to it, and the lemon flavor was ok, but it never wowed me. It didn’t do much as a representative of mate either as it didn’t have enough of a positive effect on my tastebuds to make me want to try more or better mate.
Not a purchase I will repeat.
I’m obviously in something of a minority here, as this tea was pretty much exactly what I expected it to be and I enjoyed it quite a bit.
Let me say first, though, that I put about 1.5 tsp in for about 8 oz of water. I didn’t find it to be weak, the chocolate and the mint were both present and accounted for and not overly subtle in my experience. I didn’t get a lot of the tea, but frankly, that’s become a secondary consideration for me with flavored teas — if I wanted a strong tea taste I’d drink it unflavored, or I’d drink something I knew to have a strong tea base presence. It doesn’t bother me that much anymore, as I have added more and more members to my pantheon of great teas, that some flavored ones are more about the flavor than the tea. Next time I might go to two tsp and see what happens. Maybe that would bring the tea out a bit more.
To me, the mint was very fresh tasting. It didn’t have a candy aspect to it, but it naturally sweetened up the tea and the chocolate so that the tea didn’t whisper to me that it wanted to be sweetened or to have milk added. This in contrast to the Herbal Infusions Chocolate Mint, which seemed to want sweetening.
The aroma of the steeped tea is heavier on the mint than the chocolate for some reason, but it’s still a nice smell. Sniffed in the sample packet, the mint is eyewateringly strong, which seems to me a good confirmation that it is v. fresh and its volatile oils haven’t dried up. It’s got that pretty black/green mix thing going on in the dry leaves. I’m biased though because black and emerald green is my favorite color combo.
This is going on the list for if/when I ever come out of lockdown and place a full order with H&S.
I have been wanting to try this for freakin’ ever and I decided today is The Day.
I expected to smell Frangelico when I opened the sample packet. OMG. It’s not a syrupy “essence o’ nuts” I’m smelling, it’s the nuts themselves. Down to their planty innards! I can almost feel their little round bodies cracking between my teeth. And the slightly bitter smell of baking chocolate. I can see why people are invoking Ferraro Roche (drool), but the thing that makes this different is it isn’t sugary like those little balls of trouble are.
And this is just the smell of the dry leaves, which, by the way, are dark dark dark and look almost soft and beautiful. I’m coming to recognize this as the signature of an awesome flavored black tea.
The liquor brews lighter than I’d expected for some reason. It is, interestingly, a sort of hazel nut color. The “true nut” aroma of the hazel nut seems to have mellowed some with steeping, and blended into the chocolate. Mmmmm.
And the taste is a lot like the smell. It’s quite wonderful plain, but the lack of sweetness in the chocolate seems to beg for milk and something to sweeten it. I was happy to accomodate it. With just a small amount of sweetening, the flavor becomes downright lush. The chocolate moves from the unsweetened taste of baking chocolate to the bittersweet of dark chocolate. With more milk, it would probably move further, all the way to milk chocolate. Three, three, three drinks in one! The hazelnut is an accent; a strong, Italian one, that provides a middle note during the sipping and a reminder on the back end.
I was only in Florence for a few days many years ago, but I loved it. It was unseasonably cool when I was there in the summertime, a welcome contrast to the heat of Rome. My memories are, primarily, of clear blue skies and flowers in window boxes everywhere I turned. I remember going for a run along the Arno, the Uffizi (of course), and the adorable little bed and breakfast we stayed in with its old fashioned cage of a lift and its roof garden where we ate in the morning. I still have the pocketbooks and coat I bought while I was there. Mostly I remember being young and in love, the future stretching ahead like the clean pages of a new journal, waiting to be written.
I’m not sure how much it is the name of this tea that makes me want to buy a pound of it immediately, and how much is how it actually tastes.
I can’t believe I even ordered this, since the thought of bread pudding makes me make a yucky face. I don’t like puddings in general on consistency grounds, but the idea of bread pudding is just gross to me. Of all the things one would make a pudding out of, why bread? When I was in college I lived in a co-op and one night a week I was the main dinner cook for something like 140 people. Bread pudding was pretty regularly something the menu planner had decided I should make and during the whole process of preparing the bread I kept asking myself why?
So it was only for the sake of completeness that I ordered a sample of this. And I say for the second time today, it works surprisingly well. Who would have thunk it? Probably the main reason it works, for me anyway, is it doesn’t really taste like bread pudding. It tastes like the ingredient profile that goes into bread pudding, but without the main objectionable ingredient: bread.
In the packet, the blend smells mostly of raisins and rum. Steeping makes the custard come out to join the other two flavors in the aroma and I’m glad that I can also smell a sort of full bodied sweetness that is the black tea. Liquor color is black tea against my white cup; looks a lot like the Coco La Ven sample’s liquor.
It’s nice. It’s not as interesting as the Coco La Ven, but it is well blended and flavorful. There are no sore thumbs sticking out here, none of the bitter rum flavor that plagued some of the Necessiteas greens that contained rum flavoring. It’s a raisin, cream and rum flavor with a solid base that supports it well.
As I close in on the last of my Necessiteas samples, I’m drawing the following conclusion: they’re best at rooibos, followed by black tea, followed by white tea, followed by oolong, followed by green tea. There are clunkers in each of the categories except rooibos, but for the most part, their black tea blends are worth trying.
ETA: I am at the end after all. I do have a weird mystery tea sample in my possession, but I can’t identify it. It came without a label, and it appears to be black tea. It isn’t Cafe Latte, because I ordered that and they refunded my money because they said they didn’t have any. All of my other ordered samples have been accounted for. At first I thought it might be Cinnamon Bear, but it can’t be — the cinnamon isn’t nearly as strong as the tasting notes here describe. So it will remain a mystery. Which is too bad. It isn’t as good as the Coco La Ven or this, but it was ok.
A strange little tea, full of surprises.
When I read the ingredients, I thought it sounded like a terrible mistake. Yet it actually works pretty well.
The dry mix in the sample packet smells mostly like vanilla/coconut and chamomile. The addition of water brings out the lavender. (The mixture in the infuser after brewing smells mostly like lavender and chamomile. Its nice. The association I had was with the smell of something that belongs in a sachet in my sock drawer.)
My glass tasting cups are all in the dishwasher so I’m having to view the liquor against a white background. It’s dark, definitely getting its color from the black tea. The aroma is mostly chamomile, followed by lavender, followed by coconut, followed by vanilla. I’m not detecting much in the way of tea.
The taste is extremely interesting. It has an almost minty taste and feel to it, a volatile coolness. I think this is the lavender. I can taste the chamomile, and it’s in the foreground, but surprisingly it’s not that mouthful of flowering hay taste chamomile sometimes reminds me of. The lavender and coconut (or maybe the tea) take the edge off, so it’s all of what I like about chamomile with none of what I don’t like about it. There’s coconut/vanilla at the end.
The main thing I’m not tasting is the tea. It’s strange, though. I’m not really tasting it, but I’m aware of its presence.
I didn’t try this with sugar and milk, as suggested. I will give that a try next time.
I am pretty impressed that this turned out as well as it did. Who would have thunk it?
Another big, chunky fruit mixture. This one brews to a really beautiful melon color. OK. I want a sweater in this color, too.
I was in this for the lemon, which isn’t very fair. The aroma is at least one part lemon to one part something else, but the something else is probably closer to two parts. The lemon comes first, then the other, which is denominated mango in the name of the tea.
Thing is, it doesn’t really smell like mango. It smells sweet and fruity, in a Jolly Rancher sort of way, but I’m getting more of a generic fruit back end. If I hadn’t known it was supposed to be mango, I probably would have pegged it as nectarine.
That said, the taste of the tisane only suffers if you expect it to taste like mango. It’s actually, in some ways, better tasting than mango. Mango, the fruit, can have a mealy thing going on that squeezes the taste of the fruit into a unidimensional almost pungent, not quite delicious sweetness. (Other times it is wonderful.) This tastes more like a mixed red fruit taste than a one note mango, which may spare it the risk of mango disappointment.
I like it just fine. It’s as good or a better example of its genre as the Strawberry Kiwi from The Necessiteas that I tasted recently, and probably about as good as Teavana’s Strawberry Lemonade. It’s sweet enough without doctoring. It’s just a different mix of tastes, and isn’t what I was looking for in the continuing lemon search. I prefer the Strawberry Lemonade. But I’m trying not to let my bias cloud my judgment of the lemon Mango’s merits.
The last of the The O Dor samples accompanying my order. Apparently they have at December 25th in almost every color. There’s a black, a green, and a red in addition to the white. Reminds me of my mom, who would buy a pair of shoes in several different colors. I don’t do that. OK, maybe once or twice, but that’s ALL.
They gave me the white one — I guess because I ordered a lot of black tea, so my samples were green, rooibos, this one, and mysteriously, Earl Grey. The dry leaves look like white peony (not that I’m an expert) with orange peel and other stuff in them. They smell like a fruitcake, or perhaps the more sophisticated sounding and generally better English version, a Christmas pudding.
There’s a dense, alcoholic (guessing rum) laced with fruit aroma coming from the steeped tea. The liquor is a burnished gold color with sencha-reminiscent particles suspended in it.
The taste is mildly fruit cake spicy, with an undercurrent of alcohol and a mellowness that borders on sweet that I am guessing is the contribution of the white tea. I feel like adding apple into it and calling it wassail.
It’s tasty and something that I might enjoy revisiting in winter. A bit too much for the coming summer heat, even with the white tea base.
Golden Moon sample No. 31 of 31. I just looked back at the note for sample No. 1 and I started this journey 28 days ago. So almost a month here, too, Ewa. This seems like a really nice tea to end on, as it has a lot of love here on Steepster. It’s one of the ones I’ve been most looking forward to trying.
It’s probably not the best idea for me to be drinking this at 9:30 p.m., but at least it should keep me awake to finish my workout, which was interrupted earlier today at about the 1/3 mark.
I love the look of Ceylon leaves, that twiggy, delicate, dark brown bird nesty thing they have going on. The only other pure Ceylon I’ve had is the Samovar, and like that one, the dry leaves of this one smell a little tobaccoey and a little fruity. But I’m getting an interesting mocha-java note too.
Wow, what a beautiful color! It’s not that different from a black “tea colored” liquor really, but it has a rosey hue to it, like someone dropped a few drops of cranberry juice into it. I want a sweater this color!
The aroma is totally nommy. I get the molasses in a big way, but underneath the sugary sweetness is something else. Something that smells like that red color in the liquor, but that I can’t give a name. I think it is what the company describes as berry. The more I inhale it, the more I realize: it’s raspberry, and I don’t have to throw my mind out of focus to find it as I did with the Samovar.
Taste: I like. Lots. This seems to be among the fuller bodied Golden Moon black teas, the opposite of my experience with the Samovar Ceylon, which I found to be less deep and rich than the other Samovar black teas I’d tried. It’s smooth, and it has a character that reminds me of a lighter red wine. I get the toastiness, and some sweetness, but not too, too much. Despite its depth, it still manages to have a freshness to it without being astringent.
It was indeed a special way to conclude my voyage under the Golden Moon. Now, I must go place my order, the one I grandfathered into my lockdown by virtue of starting this trip almost a month ago.
It’s not goodbye, Golden Moon. It’s hello, again.
Another detour along the path of Project Finish Golden Moon samples. This was another sample The O Dor threw in with my order from them.
It’s unclear to me exactly what is in this. It came in a white envelope with a handwitten label on it with just the name of the tea. The web site isn’t much help either. The dry mixture looks like sencha with red and pink flower petals in it, but it’s also got a couple of little twigs, which seems odd. It smells spectacularly like cherry. To the point where I can’t smell the tea at all. I’m guessing there was some flavoring added as I can’t believe a few dried flower petals could generate the sort of cherry fragrance I’m smelling (even if cherry blossoms smell like cherry, which they may, but I wouldn’t know).
The liquor has that characteristic, hazy sencha look, with little particles suspended in the water. It’s yellower than it is green, and on the lighter side but not pale. The cherry fragrance is present after steeping, but it isn’t as strong and is balanced with another, somewhat savory, buttery scent.
After all this build up, disappointingly, it doesn’ t have a lot of flavor. There is a subtle cherry note at the finish, but what comes before isn’t distinctive. I’m hard pressed to identify it as tea. It’s more like a broth without a lot of flavor. I imagine this is what sodium free “lite” chicken bouillon might taste like — mild to the point of almost tastelessness.
Sad. There’s nothing at all offensive about it, and the cherry is done well. In fact, the cherry being done well is the only reason I’m giving this a rating higher than the Golden Moon sencha, since I’ve experienced a lot of poorly flavored green teas. But I’d hoped for a flavored green breakthrough, figuring if anyone could do it, the French could. It’s a curse, I tell you.