1835 Tasting Notes
Temperate rain in the forecast caused us to pull out our potted mints that we had mulched and tucked on the edge of the carport to snooze out the winter. Removed the mulch to see what fared well…best out of the batch was the catnip. The cats found it immediately, and due to my incompetence with a camera phone, you all missed some of the funniest feline gyrations—they rubbed their muzzles in it, practically turning their heads 360 degrees to wallow in it to full effect; Tazo tried to climb in the pot…all to say, I got to steep me some of that when it matures this spring!
Inspired by their enthusiasm, I’m enjoying a sweet and fresh strong tisane with applemint from last summer’s backyard crop. Come on, warmth and sunshine!
If you read my string of notes for straight-up tulsi, every last one is related to a rock-bottom, scraping-the-dregs-of-the-barrel physical or emotional trauma. Today is no exception. Daylight savings jet lag catching up with me; an unpleasant four-year-old tornado-related insurance headache catching up with us; it’s time to call in the big guns. I am grateful to have discovered a natural medicinal that won’t chase all the big uglies away, but helps to hold them at bay for a while so I can catch my breath.
Truthfully, I’m not sure what brand this is—it’s from the bulk bin at our indie grocery. (I’m not sure that San Francisco Herb Co. is their preferred supplier now.) But it’s lemony, clovey, warm and light.
Ever find a basket of leaves on your kitchen counter that still look viable but you’re not quite sure what they were, and you’re too lazy to clean out the basket, so you just throw in a small wad of fresh generic Assam on top of it and steep it an indeterminate amount of time while you clean up after the cat, and you discover it’s really tasty?
Don’t say no, you don’t; you have. (Well, maybe not; perhaps you don’t have a cat :)
Happy Friday, all.
Some mornings, you just need unleaded fuel. Expect no subtlety here; stiff, clout-you-over-the-head strong tea with a sharp little uptick at the end of the sip. Milk (almond milk) mellows it a bit, but doesn’t mask the strength. Recommended on icy 13-degree March mornings when you don’t-want-to-leave-your-flannel-sheet-cocoon.
This is the most floral of the three oolongs I’ve tried from Tea Ave. Big spinachy leaves; nice bronze velvet color and texture. It smells like Mom’s lilac bush, and the taste is close, too. Nice cup of spring when all about me is muddy, cindery, snow slush.
This is not the one I’d choose for a Tea Ave rerun, I think—that’d probably be the Dong Ding—but that’d due to personal preference, not to the excellence of the oolong! Those of you with more delicate palates than me will likely love this.
I often joke about how subjective tasting is…what’s grapes and dark chocolate to me may be moldy bread and scrap lumber to you. So it made me smile when my impression of this nice Tea Ave oolong was exactly as advertised on the packet. Teeny hint of roasted bitterness to give it some backbone. Mellow. Fruity. Precisely. Sweet peaches and apricots.
Isn’t as thick and heavy on the tongue as the Dong Ding from Tea Ave I tried before, but that makes it no less fine.
Thanks, Tea Ave, for broadening my tasting horizons!
This anonymous little dragonwell has suffered perhaps not deliberate, but obvious, neglect and still steeps up beautifully despite its long languish in nothing but a cellophane packet. Gentle golden color, with a very nutmeggy personality. May have to research source and availability more carefully once it’s gone.
Tastes like a bright spring day instead of the mucky, muddy, half-thawed, questionably cloudy sloggy afternoon outside my window.
Mornin’. Brr. At least I could drive to work. Some of you had to skate.
Frozen toesies call for stronger teas. Yunnan Imperial called for me this morning. Dark mahogany wood, leather, burlap sacks full of feed…barn kittens (no, it doesn’t taste like kittens; all that barn lingo made me think about the little ‘uns that we’d find tucked in a hay-ey corner)…