1786 Tasting Notes
Hubby got this box of bags for himself…always makes me smile when he chooses a tea; it’s a rare and pleasant occurrence. Sticking with the recommended two minute steep yield, its mild and leans toward roasty-toasty rather than floral—definitely our household preference in an oolong. Pretty good stuff.
Temperature is about 10 degrees warmer than it’s been all week, but the sky is heavy and gray and threatening snow flurries, which makes the chill penetrate deeper. I am freezing after a traipse out for lunch and a bit of shopping.
Correction: I was freezing. Starting to thaw out with this wonderful flavored green tea. It’s warm and creamy in texture, smells like maple walnut brittle, leaves sweetness on your tongue, and disappears from the cup way-y-y-y too fast!
For a bagged, self-promoted hi-octane breakfast tea, Bigelow has done well. One would expect high caffeine to translate to tongue-shriveling bitter strength, but that’s not the case. Tastes like a decent English breakfast tea with a slightly sweet uptick at the end. Caffeine effectiveness yet to be determined.
40 degree temperature drop overnight plus the first day back at work after a lovely week-and-change off…need the heavy stuff today.
As preferences and tolerances change, I don’t consider this to be the strongest tea in my cupboard these days—there are others with more boot and more bite. But it’s sturdy and black; takes milk well and warms your reluctant bones. Who could ask for more.
Holiday tea displays are going to be the death of me. Every time I stick my nose in looking for Ginger Snappish, I see something else that’s new, cheap, and…
I’m so used to drinking Celestial Seasonings bag-in, it never dawned on me to actually check or follow any steeping guidance from the box itself. The cup that resulted, then, leaned heavily to the cinnamon-apple spectrum with only a hint of caramel at the end of each sip. Still pretty tasty, and adds another herbal option to fall/winter sipping.
Rocking, sipping, cat snoozing in the sunny patch on the rug, watching Bob Ross paint happy trees, glancing at the happy yellow maple glowing in my front yard. Balm for the weary soul.