1849 Tasting Notes
Of late, mornings have been hard. Seasonal blahs coupled with flannel sheets that are so comfy I snoodle down under them until the absolute-last-have-to-get-up minute; so tea has been whatever I can fling into the cup and still make it out the door on time. (Looking at the weather forecast, much more snoodling ahead.)
At any rate, I took time for a good cuppa this morning. This is. Smooth and deep without being so strong you have to temper it with milk. Not a bad one in the batch of Single Origin Teas I’ve tried so far.
Flipping back through recent notes on this one, it seems to be the subconscious go-to for moments of mild creative frustration: in this case, it was losing a wrestling match with a Cricut mat that is losing its sticky (those of you who know how expensive those confounded mats are understand the need to beat them into submission until they’ve lost their last iota of tackiness).
At any rate, this lovely orange-almond green is perfect for an afternoon, slightly sweet, easy to steep. One I will chase down next trip to Arkansas.
Distressingly close to the bottom of the packet. Don’t have many new adjectives for this one (sweet, bright, peppery and perky used previously); but it has been consistently and reliably good, appears to be in the can’t-ruin-it category. Well worth checking out if you need something pleasant to go with your elevenses.
We waited until the idiots—er, combat shoppers—went home, then cautiously hit the local retail zone to pick a couple of very modest mom-and-mema-in-law gifts. Kohl’s looks like a war zone. But as we were looking for oven mitts that didn’t cost the price of a robotic arm, we discovered a small assortment of Boston Tea Co. gift teas at Bath and Body Works.
…which prompted me to promptly dig through the stash at home to see what Boston Tea stuff I still have. Their varieties are consistently good. And since it was in my hand, I made a pre-dinner cuppa of this really nice dragonwell. It is what good, plain green tea is supposed to taste and behave like: a teeny bit of citrus sharpness without being bitter, not finicky about time or temp as long as you don’t deliberately boil or stew it. The green tea equivalent of a perfectly comfortably fitting pair of jeans, all broken in.
Today we suspended the “no-decorating-till-December” rule, and so I am sitting next to a homey Christmas tree: a hodgepodge of faded and salvaged ornaments from House That Was, unfamiliar but lovely gift ornaments from friends that helped us rebuild, and a few precious handmade felt-and-sequin fat-belled Christmas birds my mom made and my sister passed along.
Nothing else would do but Sugar Cookie Sleigh Ride. Cinnamon stick included; accentuates it beautifully.