25 Tasting Notes
WITCHCRAFT! WITCHCRAFT AND MAGIC!
Opening the packet, I was greeted by the familiar smells of malt and cocoa powder. Brewing it up, I got a gorgeous copper liquid with a malty smell. Taking my first sip, it’s rich dark chocolate and malted barley. Like drinking a warm, chocolatey beer. But not at all as disgusting as that might sound. (And nothing like Guinness.)
Second steep tones down the malt while the cocoa note takes on a thicker, slightly less dark feel. A smooth cocoa at the front and the back with a little punch of chocolate syrup in the middle. Faint hint of walnut and spice.
It’s the most unique black I’ve ever tasted. Surprising, easy-drinking, creamy, and perfectly smooth, with none of the punch or astringency you’d expect from an Assam or Ceylon black.
Lazy morning. I’ve already rolled over and gone back to sleep twice. So lazy I’m totally uninterested in turning on, tuning in, and dropping out into the world of tea. But the Verdant Yunnan White Jasmine leers at me suggestively from its shipping box, one of the few remaining unopened samples.
I settle for a western brew, putting on the kettle and the Beatles’ Revolver. Opening the packet, I’m overwhelmed by the gorgeous white needles and the fantastic scent. There are even a few jasmine blossoms hanging around. Verdant recommends a teaspoon per cup. I’m not sure how one measures a teaspoon with a leaf that’s a good inch-and-a-half long, so I settle for enough to cover the bottom of my cup and a tiny bit more. Steep time is two agonizing minutes, during which I bury my face in the amazing scent coming off the brewing vessel.
Pouring the tea off into my mug, a few needles slip in. As I watch, they attach themselves to the bottom of the cup and loll around, upright and waving like kelp or fauna at the bottom of a jasmine-scented ocean. Apparently I signed up for the psychedelic experience. I rush for my phone and snap a shot of this, concerned nobody will ever believe me. Two needles break free of the surly bonds of gravity and dance about, still upright, mid-beverage. This tea ain’t right.
Undeterred by the possessed leaves, I take my first sip. Banana and hints of jasmine. I certainly wouldn’t go for a banana tea on purpose, but it’s not offensive. It just is. Clean, light, perfect for this summer morning where it’s already 97 (36) outside. The strange tea disappears down my gullet and is quickly replaced with a second steep. The banana becomes smoother and less pronounced; the jasmine becomes clearer but not overpowering. The needles do not repeat their pageantry. But with a giggle, they release a hint of cinnamon they’d been secreting away for this occasion.
Do we dare try for a third? Yes. Yes we do. Here the flavor profile gets interesting. I’m sure now I must have dropped acid and not realized it. Maybe the jasmine blossoms were laced with it. In the mouth, it’s clean jasmine. The finish seamlessly transforms from banana to cinnamon to pine to a lingering green apple.
All in all, good even with the banana notes. I’m excited to see what else this one will reveal with different brewing styles.
After spending a year and a half focusing on greens, I decided to mix it up and try an oolong that arrived in my Verdant sample box. The leaves are gorgeous, twisted, enormous dark things with an amazing smell fresh out of the package. Super duper tippy magic pekoe this clearly is not, but there’s no breakage to speak of and the leaves are pristine both dry and after they unfurl.
My first and continued thought about Shui Jin Gui Wuyi: WHAT IS IT? Sitting there with my first cup, brewed as a compromise between western style and gong fu, that was the question that came back to mind with every whiff and every sip. It smelled oddly familiar, but I couldn’t quite put my finger on it. It tasted familiar, but I couldn’t quite put my finger on it. And I still can’t assign any specific name to it. Earthy, water chestnutty, coppery… but not quite. Like sucking on a dirty, tarnished penny… but not exactly. I realize I probably don’t make it sound particularly appetizing, but there’s something satisfying about it that demands continued drinking.
Second steep: The indescribable flavor continues to dominate, slightly stronger and with added notes of fire-roasted hazelnuts. For an intriguing juxtaposition, it also develops a cloying honey, slightly-fruity (summer melon?) finish that lasts between sips. (Verdant and other reviews describe it as elderberry; this Swedish-American doesn’t find that in his cuppa.)
Third steep: The sweetness moves into the main flavor profile. A more relaxed cup.
Fourth: Slightly more astringent cup. Scent now resembles a green. Flavors very mellow. Roasted coffee note develops. Continuing this tea’s trend of unexpected contrasts, the finish is heavy on the floral (citrus blossoms—a scent and taste I know well) with a hint of caramel and a slight creaminess.
Fifth: Very light liquor. Probably should have steeped longer. Grapefruit. Lingering citrus blossom/jasmine finish. Slight, passing copper note on the finish.
Sixth: The leaves aren’t spent quite yet, but results are getting light enough even with extended steeps that I called it quits. Copper moves up in the flavor profile, grapefruit moves back. Finish is extremely sweet with no hint of flavor.
There’s green tea in this?! There’s lemon in this?
Great bottle, but I don’t know why they’re filling it with… whatever factory rejects they’re filling it with. Watery. All you can taste is the vanilla and sugar. Occasionally you’ll get a burn of ginger as an aftertaste. There is no universe in which this murky vanilla-flavored sugar water is worth almost $3.
It’s drinkable and that’s about it.
I don’t know what it is with Steaz, but everything they sell is this weird, watery, flavorless impression of tea. Maybe labeling them as “Iced Teaz” is more than cutesy marketing; maybe it’s truth in advertising and they’re selling Iced Tease rather than iced tea.
Attractive color. Vaguely peachy flavor. Only the slightest hint of green tea.
It’s green tea, y’all.
Nothing remarkable. Also nothing bad. Steeped at Rishi’s recommended quantity for their recommended time, Jade Cloud yields a clear liquor with a mild vegetal scent. They say hints of chestnut; I’d say hints of water chestnut.
Flavor is mild, slightly sweet, slightly grassy, with occasional hints of pear. Zero astringency when prepared Rishi’s way. Very drinkable but forgettable. I could see this one as an everyday tea if you got a good price on it. Just flavorful enough to know you’re drinking tea, and neutral enough you could drink it with anything.
Package claims two steeps. No disagreement from me; second is weaker but drinkable, third is a no go.
This one’s fair trade, which earns it warm social justice fuzzies but doesn’t affect the flavor.
I have yet to be happy with this one. Adagio’s recommended quantity and temperature yielded astringent water. Tripling the leaves to a tablespoon yields a stronger (but still subtle) beverage, but it quickly turns the corner to harsh bitterness.
Success lies somewhere near the two teaspoon mark. Problem is, at that point it’s butting heads price-wise with much more interesting teas. It also doesn’t seem to be usable at any quantity for more than two steeps (and even two’s pushing it if you’re following Adagio’s recommendations).
It’s not bad, it’s just not good. Or much of anything else, really. Unremarkable, simple, and straightforward. I don’t mind a delicate tea when it’s rewarding or complex, but Green Pekoe just kind of… exists.