221 Tasting Notes
Well yes. The aroma of the dry leaves is indeed chocolate strawberry, with the liquid smelling of mostly chocolate. But not good chocolate. Nor is it the step down from good chocolate which is the cheap but edible and wildly available stuff. Its more like the weird stuff that you find in $2 discount stores that isn’t really chocolate but some weird stale chocolate colored imitation. Imagine that with a faint hint of strawberry and you have experienced this tea.
You gotta admire tea blends with stupid names, because if I had a tea company all the blends would be named after inside jokes and dead celebrities I’m in love with.
Anyway, the aroma has that imitation lemon essence smell I’ve come to expect with lemon teas with hint of mint. This blend tastes exactly how it smells really, but I really don’t find the lozenge-esque lemon and mint an agreeable combination in my mouth…
This blend of coconut, lavender and rooibos both intrigued and disgusted me. There is no flavouring added either, so it really just tastes exactly how you’d think: lavender and rooibos with a sweet coconut aftertaste. Interesting sounding but ultimately pretty bland, much like the men my friends try to set me up with.
The only notes I had jotted down for this was “Bleh. Slightly berryish taste. Good intro to tea for savages.”
I knew this would be awful just from its name (and also due to not finding a decent earl grey during the entire World Tea Expo).
I really can’t think of anything worse than sullying the greatness of bergamot with weird dried berries and flavouring but I was willing to give this a go. The aroma of the tea is strangely fake strawberry, like lollies, with a hint of citrus. And unsurprisingly the flavour is much the same, a poor strawberry black tea with a finish of light (cheap?) bergamot.
It could be my imagination, but this doesn’t taste as sweet as the other caramel rooibos blends that I’ve tried – which is a good thing! Comfortingly caramely, this makes for a delicious dessert drink if you add a splash of milk.
Take note rooibos haters, that woodchip/piney/some-part-of-a-tree taste mostly takes a back seat for this one, so drink up!
I’m feeling really cranky today so instead of punching people in the face, I brewed a pot of this and put on The Smiths.
Oh yeah. The lemon in this is really perfect. You get that buttery-lemon-slice goodness of the lemongrass, the puckering-citrus of the lemon peel (enhanced by the hibiscus) and before it all gets out of control the chamomile helps the honeybush mellow everything out. Including me.
And with all the people who’ve come in and started singing along to my music today, its hard to continue feeling grumpy. The magic of Morrissey and Lemonbushomile!
Yes! Hot, this tea is all lemon and lime wrapped in a coconut hug. And not one of those weird lingering hugs from someone you don’t like. Thankfully the lemon isn’t that nasty plastic lemon flavour either (which I have previously ranted about).
Chilled is when this yerba mate really shines – specifically the lime – making me long for those warm desert nights I had poolside in Palm Springs all those weeks ago…
I feel kind of wrong for liking this, because I know I shouldn’t… but theres something about the cherry lipbalm notes in this tea that I’m inexplicably and ashamedly drawn to.
A consistant blend? A consistantly bad blend, really. Even with a mere 2 minute brew the astringency still takes over, just like that annoying brunette chick in every episode of Glee. Who is drinking this and why are they wasting their time with this when they could be filling their cup with a decent single estate Darjeeling?