1942 Tasting Notes
In need of some disposition sweetening. (Ask my family; they will vigorously agree.)So I broke out some St. John’s wort. The nice part about St. John’s is that it doesn’t taste like much of anything. It’s a good blender. So hiding it in some thick sweet Tropical Nut Paradise (Teavana rooibos blend), you’d never know it was there.
We all have reasons for selecting our teas—more often than not, my picks are based on available time, weather, and emotional state as much as for the tea itself. Conditions this morning (running late, rain for the umpteenth day in a row, ugh-I-don’t-want-to-go-to-work) called for something to break up the rut, but no-fuss.
Boston Teas are consistently good and hard to ruin. This ginger peach definitely leads with the ginger—very warming on the tongue; based on past experience, the peach shows up better when it’s iced. Makes the eyes open in a slightly more creative manner than the heavy black unleaded I generally rely on.
Courtesy of Nicole, trying a new wakey-uppey today. First adjective that came to mind after a threeish-fourish minute steep was clean. Interesting to see that her tasting note, which I read after I jumped to that conclusion, used the same word. Great minds!
The longer it stands, the more prominent the good ol’ Assam rye-and-raisin flavor becomes. Would be good with milk. (Can I go home to get some and just stay there today?)
Happy Easter! Where we are, Easter Sunday is more often sullen, soggy, and cold than it is sunny, cloudless, and dry. My poor little fifth grade girls wandered in to class today with their sleeveless dresses and flip flops, blue from the chill! (You’d like this bunch. They’re rowdy, noisy, hilarious, and smart. )
So a warm beverage is definitely in order this afternoon.
By all rights, my packet of this should be exhausted and tasteless. But it must be made with pixie dust, because every time I unearth it from the bottom of my green tea menagerie, it smells fruity and sweet, and still tastes a little cotton candy-ish and a little fruit punchy. Perfect for the day.
Be joyful, whatever kind of sky is above you today.
Orange mint is more fruity than it is minty. It’s doesn’t taste like orange juice or orange rind, but you can catch the similarities, especially with a good long (8-10 min) steep. Tossed in a little St. John’s Wort for a weekend winder-downer. Tasty, and more to come: looks like nearly all last year’s potted mints fared well under the mulch. Hubby wants to add strawberry mint to the menagerie as soon as we can find it at the nursery.
CTC’s are best on those mornings when it would just be better to take your tea intravenously, so I’m glad this little packet from Nicole was in plain sight. (Two sessions in the garage storm shelter, one at 3:00 a.m.)
I’d call this the Kenyan version of PG Tips—very strong with a little bit of sharpness in the sip, but not enough to call it metallic. Had I not gulped down the mug like a tea-starved maniac, I would have tried it with milk. Good stuff for unleaded lovers.
“So what does Assam taste like?” If a tea rookie asks you that question, serve this. It’s exactly what I think of: mahogany in color, malty and nutty and strong. I left this unattended (so what else is new??) for about a minute longer than I should have so there’s a little bitterness, but that can be toned down with a little dairy.
It may be because I’m enjoying this in my comfy chair with a bag of frozen peas tucked under my painful, twingey, raw-nervey lower back, but I can just feel neck, head, and shoulders un-knotting as I sip this herbal blend.
You don’t have to sell me on tulsi—it’s my tea tranquilizer of choice—-but the ginger and fennel pleasantly round off the lemon sharpness of the tulsi. Licorice is present, but not annoying.
Thanks again, Nicole; this was well timed!
Dry, this smells lovely and sweet grapey; steeped, it holds up nicely as well. Even unsweetened, it has a sticky, lip-smacking sweetness and fruit punch short of flavor.
Thanks, Liquid Proust. After a weekend of heavy housework, which made me only moderately sore, yesterday, I bent down to adjust a sock and pinched a nerve so badly it’s been 36 hours of winching, ouching, and wallowing on a heating pad. Out here in the backyard, this was spring in a cup: a lovely something to get my mind off my miz’ries. (It would have been so much better if I had messed up my hip doing something daring—rock climbing…hauling my canoe off Elk River…playing soccer with my church kids…but a sock? Good grief.)