charab

Still experimenting with oolongs with a specimen that was found roughly a month ago and which just waited patiently as the other life decided not to give any slack for a decent cup. Not that yours truly needed to ask any permission to take it slow this morning in order to take a sniff or four, type, sip, type, sigh, type, devour the cup, create and artist book while minding the tea cup being safely away from the papers, and type again before eating breakfast and hitting the blizzarding city. Small joys.

The scent is heavy with floral notes, but also lihgtly fruity with a sliver of dried fruits, maybe apricots? The wet leaves give once again a rather pleasant surprise with the fresh floral-ish aroma accompanied by a well-moistened edge of late summer’s morning dew that’s tilted towards mature sweetness which is heavier when compared to, say, sugared fruits, and more enticing than average joe’s dark chocolate. Definitely far away from flavoured dark chocolate as well. It’s basically something one would love to smell on slow mornings after revolutionizing the laws of time and space way too many times in a row.

Scratch tasting, this one’s designed definitely for the sense of smell only.

The scent of the bright yellow liquid leans more to the fruity side with a somewhat intriguing layer of something not quite roasted but darker still than the rest of the tea’s aromas, and, well, one can’t sniff the cup without taking a gulp.

Sip.

Sigh.

Nice.

Comparing to the Green Jade this one is slightly heavier on the tongue, it’s wholesome with all its notes and acts as an all-around good guy towards my taste buds. The aftertaste seems to be quite scatterbrained since it occasionally just disappears and then pops up unexpectedly, like it would forget to linger around for a while longer and then suddenly remembering what it was supposed to do just now. Entertaining cup this one.

Still sniffing the wet leaves constantly, though.

Light. Airy. Sweet.

Springy.

As it seems that I’ve fallen heavily for oolongs after the previous good trials with these specimens, it’s more than required to take a couple more tasting tests to see if this tea type could take a permanent residence in my cupboards.

This little one is giving its best at the moment.

The aroma is very subtle but still filled with different, even complex layers among the actual key scents, which further creates a well-composed body for the specimen. It’s something to just breathe for a while and enjoy the wholesome-ish, lingering grassy sweetness which gives yet again hope for the actual Spring to come in these neighborhoods.

The sip itself presents firstly the shy optimism of an airy character, which evolves into surprisingly thick palate with the more fruity notes of ripe fruit flesh, and offers a very pliant feeling on the tongue. The taste lingers long enough to be fully noted instead of just demanding to fill one’s mouth with another sip, although the aftertaste is a tad bit thin and dodgy. This feels like a tea that would blush all the time as it would stutter and twirl its hair constantly if asked something; both cute and frustrating at the same time.

But the scent that caught my nose the most is actually the aroma of the wet leaves. It’s so heavy with fragrant fresh, fruity and floral notes all at the same time that it makes my head reel a bit. Enticing. Also the beauty of the leaves is just amazing, just to observe the slow process of them unraveling from tightly rolled pearls into big and lush leaves is something that makes my drawing hand itch. Or I really need to use more moisturizer. Either way…

This I could happily have as a fragrance right next to the two made of Japanese blended and Scottish single malt. If I could ever have an impact on perfume industry, that is…

..but the application for the cupboard residency has good credentials so far.

Very greenish-black scent. Somehow it has the same greeness in it as sencha but it’s still definitely black. It might be due the main ingredient, which is a plant called Camellia Sinesis they grow there. The scent is also very fresh, surprisingly so even though this specimen has been opened for a long time ever since I got it from a friend who was traveling in Malaysia for a while ago. She also served yours truly some other tea she bought for herself, and that had a faint flavor reminding us about helium balloons. That was fun.

But back to this. As it steeps, the blackness comes more forward with both the color and the brewing scent. It remains fresh, I give it that, but it has matured quite much also. It could be described with the cautious use of the word ‘strong’. The wet leaves give away a malty aroma, very tangible rough-edged feeling. Since the leaf itself is very, very tiny and delicate that note is amusing in itself. It has very earthy tone in it, though not the way puerh has, but somehow more…moist.

The tea itself smells earthy and the color of the liquid is very rich dark brown. Way darker than the puerh I have, but with a similar red tint.

Sip.

Very earthy. One could almost taste the mud and tree barks. With a roasted hint. Tasty. Very plain black tea as it’s presented, but with a nice personality. It could use some small boost, perhaps, something that’ll give the palate something more to mull over rather than tasting it as a whole and then just letting it linger with its roasted aftertaste. But then again, those qualities can be reserved for other teas.

This is more than fine for what it’s meant to be.

And that is good tea.

If I ever thought that out of all the things man can create, a simple cup of tea just cannot be as pompous and presented with an ego equally large as any narcist walking..

This one is a rare treat indeed.

Have never laughed so hard while reading the description nor when typing it down for this site.

So.

The leaves are indeed leaning into blue hue, and they are well-sized, granted…and it’s still mere tea. No enlightement reached here so far.

The scent if the first to give the chocolate in it, albeit maybe a bit too light for my liking (taking 100% chocolate for delightful snack, 99% made me giggle once while observing as others were trying to restrain from spitting it out. After that nobody gives me permission to buy the chocolates for parties without someone else keeping watch. Killjoys.) After that comes the roasted aroma with the lingering trace of nut. Sadly it’s not as compatible with the chocolate as I hoped it to be. Although hubby seems to fall head over heels for it…his train of thought takes it towards very old malty whisky.

Alright, it may be perfect fit for some.

The scent grows stronger when steeped by each passing second, now the chocolate hits heavily with even more tangible sense of it being roasted. Almost like a soaked pastry made of dark chocolate. The liquid does turn very deep yellow, although it does have a slightly dimmer tone in it when compared to Tit Kom Yum, the oolong yours truly tried out once. The nut seems to be a bit lost now, need to sniff the wet leaves for a while in order to find it again.

Sip.

…The mouthfeel is nice. Not so full as hoped. There are nutty fragments in the taste, but sadly very narrow ones. The chocolate has dimmed down considerately, which is somehow nice since the overwhelming scent was already making me hesitate on the next actions with it. Now the palate is focusing on mainly roasted notes. The crop is barely there and more as in giving support to the roasted flavour rather than standing on its’ own.

This could be a treat with the right food or scotch by its’ side. But on its’ own..hmm. I can taste that it’s sophisticated and does have similarities with puerh….

And there’s something lingering on the tongue. Hoping that to be the aftertaste.

This little Napoleon is taken down a peg or two in my books.

Ahhh, the seasons. The bane and joy of one’s existence, especially in a land containing all four of them! Added with all the nice holidays life is grand, especially when one has the mind as dirt-, ahem, inventive, as yours truly. If you still regard seasonal candy as innocently as children I’m not tarnishing your mind. For now.

To celebrate a phenomenon called vacation (a word far too unused for art people so we need the society around us to remind us for that small thing) I’ve decided to dedicate this post to all the strange Christmas teas found from my cupboard, which were promptly forgotten after receiving them from a classmate since she isn’t a tea drinker.

Therefore the tea name on this post has actually very little to do with these teas, except that the provider is the same in most of them. And it’s all white outside. With horisontal snowing and over knee-high snow banks. Not kidding.

Ratings: naughty / nice

‘Green Christmas Tea’ by Forsman Tea; green sencha flavoured with cherry, grapes, white chocolate and orange peel bits.
First sniff: sweet, getting some notes on a subtle choco and orange, otherwise very dodgy aroma. A little twist of greeness in the scent.
Initial sip: …Taste..? Ah, there it- ick. Ugh. Ew. Not nice. Definitely not nice.
Naughty, naughty tea!

’Santa’s kiss’ by Forsman Tea: black loose leaf tea spiced with cherry, grapes, white chocolate and orange peel bits – should I be worried at this point?
First sniff: almost identical without the previous tinge of green (obviously), somehow the sweetness is actually stronger now..sweet orange.
Initial sip: I’ve been kissed a lot better than this. Sloppy Santa.
Naughty.

‘Christmas Tea of Health and Well-being’ (rough translation, but that’s what it screams at me) by Forsman Tea: First off, it’s rooibos. Flavoured with cinnamon, vanilla and orange and I quote: “velvety flavour”. I should really worry now.
First sniff: the sweetness that rooibos usually has on its own is now increased with something that is NOT cinnamon NOR vanilla but a twisted version of orange infused with…something vanilla-ish-if-you-push-your-imagination-hard-enough. As it brews the scent takes turn for worse. Starting to think it wasn’t so good idea to taste all of these pouches at once – I might just cripple my taste buds.
First sip: My tongue is going to hate me for a while.
Naughty.

‘Christmas Tea (Selected Quality)’ by Lipton: black tea with spices (they mention cinnamon), rosehip, orange peel…and ‘flavours’. Oh the joys of mystery in Christmas season, eh..
First sniff: Okay, there seems to be some berries in it…maybe lingon or cranberry…and I see some cloves as well, that’s nice…and some small little things I can’t seem to pinpoint, maybe some peppers..? Sadly the scent is only sweet with no traces of other layers and the orange peel dominates a lot. Oh well. Here we go.
Initial sip: Seemingly tasteless at first, a very thin taste afterwards..it was an opened pouch so I’m guessing it has aged before given in this household, since the scent while brewing was way better than the previous three. Plain. Simple. Now getting somewhat ‘old’, muffled taste. Definitely not the best teas I’ve enjoyed but from this foursome this is the nicest.
Nice.

And now some chai to wash my mouth.

Dark. Smoky. Strong. Rough. Bare and thorough. Makes the mind wander and the mouth to tell the world to take a hike for a moment. Enjoying it already.

With the leaves a very strong scent of smoke pushes through first, almost like lapsang but without the subtle sweetness the aforementioned one usually has. This one doesn’t do hints. It presents itself as it is. A smoky blend without a fuss. It does give away a trace of tree bark. And very dark and sour rye bread. Wearing only black from head to toe suddenly seems all the more appropriate for this specimen.

As it steeps it gives a very beautiful and rich colour scale of red, black and brown with a sliver of gray. Reminds me of the Keemun I had once, not to mention Lapsang. Or Pu’erh. The wet leaves give away a somehow muffled scent, something between wet wood and slightly burnt pie crust. Of all the choices it gives those. Clever one.

Now the sweetness announces itself as I take a sniff at the cup, it lingers there as a thin, shy underlayer beneath the smoke. Something fruity, maybe ripe plum, reaches out as well. The smoke steps aside in the aroma and gives the other scents the space they need, making the tea’s character more solid instead of being very onesided and thin.

Sip.

Oh, the smoke hits first, but then the sweet untertone gains more weight and suddenly accompanies the smoke rather than stays on the background only complimenting it like small sweet characters usually do out of sheer kindness and just daring to hope that someone takes notice of them. This is a bold one. That’s appreciated.

The feeling on tongue is thick and heavy, but not overly so. It takes its’ place and makes itself noticed. Lingers nicely as well, turning into full aftertaste, albeit vanishing a little too quickly for my taste. Glad I made a pot of it.

And as it gets accompanied by a plum pie made yesterday and now tasting all the sweet and sour layers in it…bliss. Just right companion for it, the bite of a plum gets more dimensions with the gentle, round smoke and the turkish yoghurt with some honey gives an extra push towards the sweetness and still keeping the feeling in mouth airy.

As the cup chills a bit the flavour turns more soft and fresh, the tongue getting a sliver of bitterness but only enough to keep things interesting. Having a wonderful dialogue with this one.

Not bad company for waiting the winter which is still yet to come. Even the seasons are shy here.

First of all, fixed finally the blurry image for you guys.
Secondly, found myself with excessive time suddenly before going to work for the evening and feeling no guilt whatsoever for spending it with my cup and pot.
Thirdly, still having a feeling that my skin pores are infused in tar because of the latest exhibition I helped to put up in the gallery. Made me crave for Lapsang for those two days.

And now for the neglected cup of tea. Been a while.

Sweet, subtle promise of warm pleasure expands in my nostrils as I take a deep breath of the dry leaves. Visual looks and the scent associates with steaming cup in the middle of autumn morning on an old wooden pier in a cold wind. Cold, harsh and moody wind that is. Accidentally enough the one we have right now. Gray, rainy, windy, moody..if you feel up for adventurous weather feel free to visit Helsinki within the current month. Surprises guaranteed. Which makes the simmering pot and cup on the side even more appealing at the moment.

A sliver of smoke lingers through. That or I just should’ve taken a glass of whisky with this and my brain tries to suggest that course of action. Choosing to ignore it.

..for now.

Surprisingly the scent does give away the aroma of green tea which means very pure and..well..‘green’ sweetness, even though the roasted feeling almost pushes away all other scents this one has to offer. My mind ends up with a nagging feeling of a mixture of smoked fruit..but which one? Dates? Figs? Plums?

Hmmmm.

Oh the heck with it, my pot’s getting cold.

When brewed the aroma changes into more subtle mixture of previously mentioned without being so straightforward, especially with the roasted smokiness. Somehow the scent turns more solid and the color of the liquid is intriguing, very pleasant brownish-reddish-hint-of-gray-and-green-if-one-squints-enough. Fellow students could mention similarities to my color schemes (which I would choose to ignore as well). I wonder if anyone has ever made black tea as in black-like-charbonnel-black-printing-ink. That would be something to try. This tea puts strange thoughts in my mind. Worth loving for that already.

Sip.
…Oh.

Nice. More than nice. Smokiness, roasted taste palette, definitely round and tasty and where did that sweet untertone suddenly come from? This would be divine with carrot cake or cinnamon rolls or pancakes with turkish yoghurt and cherry jam or better yet black currants, the character of this specimen could carry the creamy sweetness and caramel tones of pastries very well and I bet it would be compatible with the bitterness of smetana and yoghurt. One could describe the flavor a tad bit plain, which it honestly is, it does have very simple key flavor which is supported with the subtle layers of others. Maybe that’s why first thoughts concentrated on tastes it could compliment on the side. But it still holds its’ ground when enjoyed alone. Even the aftertaste hangs around quite a bit, oh how I love the smoke-

Wait.
This won’t do.
I will not hype a tea.

But I will bite the one who dares to steal a sip.

Not sure if I had this, even though it was from Maeda-en and sencha. The bag was different, although that could’ve just been updated. It could’ve also been a sort of ‘fancy’ type. Anyhow.

Was a bit disappointing. It was green, I give it that, but otherwise very thin taste. No matter how many different variations on temperature and steeping time was it tested with. Just couldn’t grasp it. It was sencha, but ended up nothing more than worker’s tea for me. Took me three weeks to drink all hundred tea bags with a fellow student while we worked on our artist books and prints and after that during lectures. Then again it provided me a bunch of tea bag papers to use for my works. So nothing was done in vain.

Very, very mouth-watering tasty iced tea that my German friend treated me with while we were sweating in our tiny kitchenette making Japanese dinner for six (which was delicious, that lady is something unique. Although my kitchen is still recovering from it.). She herself went for a flavoured one with honey and lemon as yours truly chose original, since getting molested by sweetness is something that makes my skin crawl with iced teas. Goosebumps during the hottest summer, how nice is that. Serving chilled shouldn’t mean chilling the spine…reeling back on track again..

This one gave what it promised. It really tasted chilled green tea, maybe not sencha but more of a mixture of oolong-ish and jasmin tea, which it apparently had as the main ingredient in it when I checked after a sip. Very full flavor, fills the mouth nicely and stays on tongue, slowly forming more into soft than fresh in its’ aftertaste, and without the sometimes annoying lemon-y tinge that usually always is present in these tea types.

Though I did also take a taste from the honey/lemon mix..

…and the phrase about cats and curiosity is a bad understatement.

That was…something. Maybe it was the honey or they had just used more sweeteners in it beside honey…couldn’t taste the tea through it, no matter how much got it mulled over on tongue. And the used lemon was somehow twisted, not resembling lemon-y flavor on any scale. That was all I got out from it. Sweet like pink unicorns with glitter on them prancing on a rainbow.

As the authoress Dorothy Parker has said: “This is not a novel to be tossed aside lightly. It should be thrown with great force.”

So if sweetness isn’t your cup of tea, try something else than honey and lemon version. Like the original one.

This product is also a bit confusing when the origins are considered, these cases announced themselves to be Japanese green tea on the labels, but the origing is Thailand and the sites have both japanese and thai influences. And we bought them from Asian market which pretty much had both the mentioned nations covered beside others. Maybe they refer to the ingredients as Japanese, or the company is from Japan and is just based in Thailand, since they also have franchising restaurants on Japanese ramen..

Oh well. It doesn’t affect the taste. I think I found my summer drink.

In October.

Oishi.

A small praise for a loyal companion.

Keeps me from bumping into walls, doors and other people in the morning and effectively makes one consider the pros and cons about having the possible outcome of a burned hand when rushing around with a hot cup.
Keeps the priorities in check – no tea no function.
Forces my brain awake when steeped illegally long.
Kindly cooperated when had to print offset lithography for twelve hours straight without any considerable breaks.
Doesn’t get in the way with its’ taste but stays on the background providing means to survive the everyday life of an art student.
Workers’ tea in a good way: swift to make and always satisfying with the result.
Loyal for what it comes to flavor palette; black, bite of bitterness occasionally, mellow with bergamot and soft and harmonic when treated gently. Honest, basic tea.

Feisty when drank cold accidentally. Then not so enjoyable, the lemon pushes through almost violently.

Simply being there when needed.

Second oolong to try out. I’m beginning to enjoy these lazy mornings.

This one feels already different from Tit Kon Yum I tried yesterday, from the visual presentation to the scent itself. The leaves look very delicate and fragile when they’re curled up in tiny shapes resembling a pearl (but still not falling to the pearl tea category). They open up very nicely when rinsed a little and watching tea unfurl is a good way of knowing one has a slow morning. Or just spacing out badly.

The scent itself before brewing is more floral than with the other one, more related to the green teas I’ve enjoyed. Even the leaves are way greener than in Tit Kon Yum. Would associate the scent to peony, perhaps, or chrysanthemum, if not directly then by pure smell impuls. A very delicate-looking yet big and astonishing flower comes to mind. It also appears as if the scent would’ve been tinged with something, something soft, to take the pointiest edge away from the sweetness. Refreshing, I give it that.

When brewing I really don’t know what to expect. Since the first one was so delicious it seems I’ve managed to subconsciously heighten my standards already for this.

First try: there’s something wrong. Minuscule bit of bitterness bites through. Alright, if you need a challenge…maybe waking up fully would do the trick…

Second try: Reminding myself that it has combined both Japanese and Chinese methods of preparing the tea. Best result would be Sencha Kura vol. 2 with the determination of a steel monk accompanied by a Tibetan spaniel with an ego of a Siberian tiger. Let’s prepare for the worst then…

Oh my.

Sweet yet sophisticated, tad flat aftertaste. The floral palette vanished and was replaced with fruity tinge, like pure fruit flesh from an almost overly ripe plum or similar kind. Not tangy but toned down to earthy, like the difference between a bit too raw prunes compared to the almost squishy ones. Very soft, and one could feel there’s something covering up the strongest sweetness. Like velvet or silk in the mouth on your taste buds. Very nice light yellowish, golden tint in the liquid. Slightly more airy and lighter than the previous oolong, very thin aftertaste. Scent when brewed is actually slightly stronger than the actual taste. Not as delicious as the other one, but still giving its’ best.

As the cup turns cold the taste changes into more refreshing, but the floral aspect comes back and pushes the plum away, leaving the tasting itself happen during the first seconds on the tongue, then vanishing the flavour almost completely. Wonder how this would turn out when enjoyed with a glass of twelve-year-old Japanese Hibiki whisky…

I have it bad.

Greenish scent. Very pure and refreshing. Hint of sweet. Lingers. Somehow very full scent, didn’t know what to expect really. Takes over the sense of smell. Reminds of sencha on some level, maybe the hint of green does it.

This is my first experiment with oolong beside another type which I bought at the same time just to see what they’re all about and if there are differences between them. Visually they are like day and night, as this specimen has very rough, big leaves and solid character the Wu Cha Oolong has very delicate and more greenish leaves, very thin and sophisticated. This one reminds me of some dry rush by the sea, and on closer look they start to resemble cliffs or worn wood. Beautiful in the sense of aesthetics.

Now for the steep after rinsing (made the morning feel more special, I have time to actually prepare a tea! I could weep.).

The scent takes on more layers, and sweet smoke lingers through, more weight on the sweetness. Smells very strongly, with a hint of dried fruit, maybe fig or dates..something slightly rough yet moist comes to mind.

Then the sip…

It indeed is very harmonic. Very sweet also, with added feeling of thin layer of milky character. Very flowing and pliant on tongue, leaves a pleasant feeling without being too short in its’ aftertaste. Would almost go with floral tinge and it does bring in mind the previous encounter with Sencha Kura; the same type of earthy tone, perhaps the dew on the ground but not during spring but early autumn. As a landscape would say a misty pond at the marshes…or maybe even the gray, worn duckboards through the field of rushes when one’s surrounded by absolute silence.

Silence. That’s the sound of this tea. No thoughts, no noise. Just being still and silent. Breathing.

The cup itself looks very delicate with the promised yellow color, and makes one agree with the golden tint in it. Not too bright, just enough to resemble the falling leaves and the humid autumn weather we have here at the moment. Well collected ensemble of senses and associations.

As I let the cup turn cold while writing and take the final sip..oh my.

Found myself falling for oolong. Fancy that.

Very full. Tickling. Definitely a tiny hint of smoke in there. Slightly…pointy but nice. Small trace of subtle sweetness, maybe a fruit..perhaps lychee? Reminds of that at least-

A sneeze.

Yup. Tickling.

I went and purchased this interesting case with few others and have been pushing, pulling and threatening my schedules to get myself some time to drink. my. tea. in. peace. thank. you! Instead of hastily gulping down the average joe’s Lady Gray of Twinings (very good while working, doesn’t get in the way with its’ taste, very trustworthy) while running to the classes, meetings, the gallery where yours truly found herself working as an intern at the moment and playing dodge ball with the pleasant thing called life in general.

No need to emphazise the happiness when the calendar said I don’t have to wake up at seven thirty this morning but could actually sit down, watch the rainy morning and finally, f i n a l l y, would be able to actually enjoy a fine cup of tea without doing homage to Felix Baumgartner (nice jump though).

So. After reading Angrboda’s interesting post about keemun some time ago and how wonderful that tea seems to be, morning’s first cup is with that.

As described the scent above, this tea somehow tickles its’ way to my nose. Can’t say whether it’s because of the slight pointy layer of aroma or the subtle sweetness or the both combined. Still, enjoying the scent very much, it seems to be very good tea for rainy mornings and promises to slow down the time a bit.

The scent while steeping turns more round and full, and the smoke pushes through. The thin layer of something sweet remains, but mostly it’s all about full smoky scent.

Sip.

Sneaky. The sweetness is the first to taste, refined through smokiness, almost as if tasting smoked sweet fruit, maybe even smoked fish. Very full yet delicate, aftertaste a tad bit thin and short but all in all tasty treat. Hm. Time runs forward as always but personally seemed to reach the point where one just stops caring about it. Good tea.

And then going for a slightly longer steep, just to see what will happen…

The sweet flavour gains more strength but still keeps itself in balance with others, fills the mouth quite nicely and lingers a little bit longer than with the first steep. Making me drowsy.

Bliss.

Both with assam and darjeeling there seems to be a small twist in my cup. They both can turn very bitter when they choose to, and very rapidly. Good that I never back off from a challenge.

This assam calls for some patience. The scent of the leaves is quite sophisticated and it gives an impression that this one likes to be drank in the mornings. Even a hint of sweetness pushes through after breathing it in a few times. Othervise very obvious scent of strong black tea.

After brewing the scent transforms into more sharp and tangy form. The sweet aroma is there but somehow more narrow and thin. Very pointy.

Sip…

It seems to awaken something at least.

The ‘fight-or-flight’ response, that is.

The flavor is indeed strong, but in a slightly disturbing way. Having troubles to put my finger on it when it harasses my tongue severely at the same time. Feeling almost molested. Even the aftertaste disappoints, very thin, short, fast and bitter. Something one wants off from the tongue and then opting not to swallow the second time. Not the best position in the -

Uh.

…

But.

As surprising as it is, the whole situation takes 180 after adding whole milk as an attempt to salvage the situation for all the teas holy. Suddenly all the bitterness is gone, the promised spices dare to announce themselves as small trace of something sugar-y and cardemum-y linger around and – where did that nutty flavor appear all of a sudden? It gets thick and full and long and swallowable and I really need to stop writing innuendos now.

Sliver of bitterness bites through the milk though.

It bit the wrong tea drinker.

“No.”

“Thanks but I’ll pass.”

“It smells like cowshed…mm, no.”

“You really want me to taste something you just described with a word ‘manure’?”

“NO.”

Seems like it’s ridiculously easy to get misunderstood when it comes to describing a taste and then equally hard to persuade people to taste it after smelling it. More for me then.

Pu’erh was something that bugged me ever since I ordered it in a small restaurant when we visited with our class in St. Petersburg. While others were trying to locate the second head I seemed to have suddenly grown without my knowledge I enjoyed my pot and the fact that this tea is divine with blinis with some smetana and honey. Then it promptly slipped my mind when I tried to remember it afterwards, leaving only the trace of taste that I tried to hunt down occasionally. Nagging taste memory, one could say.

But it’s worth nagging, though. The scent of the leaves is very subtle and earthy, and one can sense the full, round character this one has. And yes, it reminds me of those summers spent in the countryside adventuring in whole bunch of different animalsheds, but hey. Nostalgia is a good thing to experience once in a while. Besides cows smell pretty much a whole lot better than some humans I’ve met, or even yours truly after a rough night.

Putting that aside…

The color of the tea after steeping is magnificiently dark and rich, well suited for the chilly autumn season we have here at the moment. Crisp, sunny day with almost every tree wearing something else than green for a change and then a steaming cup of pu’erh. Ah, the simple joys. The scent turns more soft and somehow acquires even a thin layer of smokiness. The cow turns into a worn piece of wood which has once been part of a wall for a cowshed a decade ago. Faint, but not there, so to speak. It gives more way to the earth itself. The after taste is very rich and lingers thickly on tongue after swallowing, putting all the other things aside and making one focus only on the tea.

When accompanied by a delicious smoky single malt all is well.
One more factor to make the autumn look even more beautiful.

Every now and then there are situations that just crave for champagne. Putting up the first personal blog ever for instance, which you can find from here:

http://mintblack.blogspot.fi/

So, what to do when it’s Monday, the first day of the week and it’s only 11 a.m.? Well of course every good art student goes for the real thing since noblesse oblige. This time though yours truly went for a green tea blend called Thé Champagne, which with its’ name hits close enough.

The scent of old, dried fruits is unmistakably an underlayer of the floral palette, and delightfully the added strawberries don’t push too much through. As nice as strawberries are, they still work best when fresh and straight from the fields. Dried ones…not so tasty.

Always having flavors added as aromas is something that makes my neck prickle a bit, since it’s so easy to taste only the added aroma and in worst case scenarios the whole thing being very artificial both in smell and taste. So as with the real thing itself, this champagne is also something to approach with caution. The brewing takes the edge off of the scent, and turns it into more tea-like in its’ softness and fuller form. So good so far.

Sip.

…

Oh come on.

Giving myself a toast and going for another cup. Now it tastes. The dry taste lingers first on tongue, accompanied with the green tea, and somewhat airy character is thrown at you. No trace of bubbling though. Which might actually be a little unnerving if being suddenly hit with sparkling sensations. The promised champagne gets lost and stays only in the smell.

I can see this tea fitting situations where talking is the main thing instead of really tasting the tea. This is just tea for company. Nothing interesting, just very light and airy, a little bit of sweetness which does lose to the taste of dried fruits. What fruits they might be, maybe some apricots and grapes, but overall undefined.

I suspect the deities of decadence are not laughing with me in this case.

A nice, basic black russian tea for mornings, noons, afternoons and evenings. An all-around-companion when one needs something not too complicated. Very soft flavour and works with strong and light steeping, also seems to fit with the Wild Cherry (at least for my husband). Very simple taste palette, mostly just earthy and pliant, hard to define any actual tastes in it. Having drank teas in Russia few times this definitely is russian tea, somehow they seem to have a similar kind of semi-tangy sweetness in them which gives a nice twist to the character. Not too sweet though.

Scent of sweetness is the first to push through, but also very earthy and fruity aromas accompany it, as a very delicate trace of dried fruits tries to get noticed. For some reason makes me think of dried apricots, but there are some other scents in it as well, dodging everytime I barely put my finger on them. Sneaky sencha this is.

The steeping process itself is both frustrating and rewarding if everything goes well. I have been working with this ninja-like specimen for some time and it still loves to give me gray hairs. To be honest, I can sometimes be considered very anal person when it comes to making things by the book to the utmost ridiculous detail, but this, this tea promptly makes me lose it. I have a craving desire to get it j u s t r i g h t yet at the same time I’m going berserk and think of ways of making this experience to go so wrong that even UN should consider intervening. Send me some of those blue barrets and I’ll show you an international escapade to last a lifetime. Which might lead to banning this type of tea and mentally scarring few generations, but what the hey. A n y h o w.

To make things a tad bit more interesting: the first time I encountered this tea was in a tearoom just a couple of hours before my wedding. I needed something to soothe and take my mind away from all the things happening around and sat there for a good hour by myself, wedding bouquet on the floor, enjoying the crisp, sunny spring winter morning (in March) and the delicate lingering taste of this tea. What I would’ve really said at the altar without having this moment, best to leave it untouched.

But that moment gave me a reference how the tea should look and taste when it’s made properly: spring green, like the first leaves that pop out in the trees, and very, very intriguing mixture of morning dew, dried fruits and sweet promise which doesn’t dominate others but complements them. The earth element was present, like fresh grass at five a.m. when the dew is on the ground. Ideal for mornings, that is.

Hence the frustration. Since being a person who doesn’t want to use thermometers and all that but learn things through trial and error because it’s always fun and problem solving is something my half-engineer mind enjoys, the steeping at home goes something like this many times:

First attempt: a bit too warm water, turned yellow and bitter and the flavor sharpens so much it’s violating my taste buds. eugh.

Second attempt: temperature just right, nice and green and sweet, but just had to forget the sieve in the cup as ended up doing something else suddenly. Well, at least it was g r e e n. The taste turned ugly. Note to myself: do not make complicated tea while making as well complicated art and/or schoolwork.

Third attempt: A-ha! All is right, the taste lingers as the sweetness is just right as well the solid character, not too thin on tongue and long enough to make the cup last longer. The dried apricots turn into more undefined rough yet subtle underlayer, like the after taste of dried fruits one usually ends up on the tongue: something dry yet still solid and moist. Very pure taste of green, if one could say that. This is what I enjoy with sencha, somehow the taste, even with trace of sweetness, resembles something I categorize as ‘pure’. And it’s also something I wouldn’t enjoy during winter, somehow light and airy flavor suffers when there isn’t enough natural light to boost them. Finnish winter melancholy blues is too much to handle for these types. Figures. Optimists never last here.

Still retracking my way to the succeeded attempt, step by step. But, everytime when things turn right, it’s worth it.

The UN approves.

No notes yet.

Sniff.

Sweet.

Candy-ish.

Something that may or may not be cherry, accompanied with the ’there’has-to-be-some-right?’ tea leaves trying desperately to compete with the overwhelming sweetness in the scent. Perfect tea for making divine pralines, especially when dark chocolate is involved. Since that’s why I bought this overcute specimen.

The scent after simmering a couple of minutes is still sweet and I start having doubts with it. Not that I haven’t enjoyed sweetness in my cup before, but compared to Japanese Cherry, that I also happen to have and need to introduce to people who don’t know it yet, which is green tea with cherry bits in it, this type of sweetness is like getting suddenly trapped in the middle of a swarming group of gothic lolitas and end up seeing more frills than in your baby pictures combined. No sense of discretion with this one.

No harm meant for the lolitas, though, frills and me just don’t mix well.

After the first sip…

Huh.

Not so bad.

Actually the sweet aroma that teases until the ‘bitter’ end (ah, the joys of bad puns) suddenly seems to give room to other tastes there are. As if finally realising that as cute and adorable as it is it’s still blocking the way and needs to move a bit. It gains more dimensions, gets longer, and instead of getting a frosting on your tongue it lures to take another sip and to enjoy it’s company. Sadly the trace of cherry gets lost, keeping itself as a very thin undertaste and the initial sweetness transforms into a character I’m yet having difficulties to decipher. That factor leads to a tad flat flavour and not so round as I hoped. The final feeling resembles something between actually tasting the branch where the cherrys grow instead of the treat itself and the nagging sensation of needing to add something to it. Something strong.

My husband solved the problem by promptly mixing it with russian black tea.

I went for Lapsang. And that is yet another story how things turn out when cute things meet rough smoky characters. Not so ugly as one would have thought.

Basic, nice mint tea which I got from a Polish friend. The smell is mild but still very fresh and minty, and the taste is what it promises: honest, fresh mint. The aftertaste resembles very clean feeling in mouth, almost medicine-like, and my friend told me that this tea type is actually used as a medical herb in Poland, hence the word Apteczny in the product name. May explain the reason why this one gets drank a lot during flu season in this household. Still not sure if it does affect my stomach as mint is said to, though. I just might end up being very healthy without knowing. Sneaky Polish.

And this type actually works really well as an ice tea also, the taste turns more sharp but it still maintains its’ whole character instead of turning into very narrow dominance of the mint taste itself. Although the first gulp is a bit overwhelming when it’s straight from the fridge, it’s always fun to feel like having suddenly three or four nostrils instead of two. So unless you feel up for exploring the possibility of being able to smell half of the neighborhood after one sip it’s best to let it have a minute to be outside the fridge. Depending of course how strong you’ve made it, one tea bag is good for one cup but for a pot I usually go with two and let them steep longer.

The feeling after drinking it cold feels similar to drinking very, very cold and fresh water or the fresh birch sap when it’s straight from the tree. Sadly the aftertaste in both hot and cold versions is a little too short, it leaves craving for more so normally one cup gets finished rather quickly. The good thing though is that one tea bag can be used even up to three times before it starts losing its’ flavour. Every new brew is a bit different, usually softer than the previous one, but the main characteristics remain altogether.

Very clean and fresh, all in all a nice new encounter with basic, honest mint.

And my friend still wants me to try out their mint as its’ actual plant version, which she didn’t dare to bring through their customs because of the way it was packed resembled a little too much some other..herbs..there are out in the world. We’ll see what will happen.

Adding spices and flavouring the tea, with fruits for example, can be seen as a very delicate process when the balance of the taste between the actual tea leaves and the ingredients used for flavouring is at stake.

In my opinion the case of chai is where the aforementioned challenge is the most obvious. Usually the normal encounter goes on like this:

You’re in a situation which demands something spicy and strong to drink, say, for having a cold or enjoying some fine sweet carrot cake. One of the good options is chai, since having a chili cocoa with a cake is just pushing your luck considering the possibility of ending with a sugar rush. Not to mention combining flu with sweet dairy products. And since this site isn’t about whiskeys I’ll just stick with the tea as the best option.

Anyhow.

Then the following ensues: the served chai smells promising, the cinnamon and cardemum linger through your nostrils as well the promise of a nice mellow aftertaste with just a hint of tingling sensations on the tongue, the same one gets after good spicy food. Not to mention what new dimensions it’ll give to the said carrot cake.

Sit back, relax, take a sip, either as a ‘raw brew’ or with some added milk…

And then you feel like breaking an illusion, with which you had no problems at keeping it happily going until the end. In worst cases the sense of loss is similar to getting highly aroused after heavy flirting and dirty talk and then left hanging.

Feeling irritated is saying things nicely.

After trying out various chais from different brands I almost gave up. The usual feeling was being mercilessly teased and not getting any: vanishing taste, non-existant spice palette after adding milk, the feel on tongue when taking a sip mostly just thin and unpleasant. When one type covered the lacking qualities of the previous ones it failed on others.

Needless to say things changed after being introduced to this fine specimen. I’m usually not one to hype, but this stuff can be considered as something I would merrily have as an IV drop when the flu season hits the city. The first sensation is the curiosity aroused by the smell, which is very strong for what it comes to the used spices, and the visual character of the tea when one actually sees the chunks of all the ingredients that are used with the tea leaves.

The taste grants all the promises those two previous aspects give: for the first cup the taste is very heavy with spices, depending of course the time used for brewing and the amount of the used tea as well if there’s milk involved, but it still isn’t dominated with the most obvious ones as cinnamon and cardemum or anise, but gives space for others as well, slowly shifting through a very thin layer of sweetness towards the burning of the black pepper. After the second brew the flavour turns more mellow and the taste of the black tea itself comes more vivid, still keeping the flavour whole and round, as well the taste stays long in the mouth. Nothing is more irritating with chai than a flat, very rapidly vanishing aftertaste which almost makes one panic about the possibility of missing all of the taste buds suddenly.

This is also one of the few chais I’ve tried that work really well with both cold and warm milk. Of course the character changes for more mellow and significantly milder as the milk takes the edge away from the spices, but they’re still there rather than being annihilated.

As well the tea cup.

Since the winter is coming, again, one needs to stock up the goods in order to manage their everyday lives during the dark and cold months, which sometimes tend to make people wonder the motives of our ancestors who were curious/brave/simply too stupid and stubborn enough for not asking directions and ending here.

One way of staying sane when everything is pitch black after four p.m. is to have something hot and delicious to drink, and this tea is, in my opinion, one of the best for that. In comparison to, say, Fortnum and Mason’s Lapsang this one does have richer and fuller flavour, which also gives time to actually taste more than just the smokiness this tea is known for. It’s not overwhelming the subtle sweetness it has in both the smell of the leaves themselves and the brewed taste, not to mention the after taste which lingers nicely on the tongue, offering time to sit back and enjoy every sip in peace.

For a member of finnish tar culture this Lapsang offers very pleasing subtle tarry undertone, and it’s always fun to compare this to the Tarry Lapsang for its’ much stronger tarry flavor which usually associates with the scent of wooden boats and smoke sauna. With the basic Lapsang the wood in the flavour is given more dimensions than just the tar or smoke, it’s also very contradictional, as having a very simple and roughly designed wooden chair that has slowly been worn to have a beautiful patina on its’ smooth surface. Or a very nice wooden sauna one enjoys just when the lights go out because of the heavy snowing.

As for the flavour character this tea tends to fall into the category of ‘winter’, as the smoky, tarry, strong and full characteristics are something that may not suite the taste one has during summer, when more subtle and lighter tea types are preferred.

All in all Lapsang Souchong is worth tasting and enjoying with all the senses, a tea which compliments others by its’ delightful character, as well gives a very nice twist when mixed with other teas when one needs to use all that’s left before getting the shelves filled up again.

And makes the cold and wet time of the year just a tad bit warmer.