1810 Tasting Notes
Seen any on your shelves yet? Not here either, but some bags left over from last season. Perfect after a nippy walk to our little handkerchief-sized park and back, enjoying the fall decorations. (One of my favorites is the giant eyeball-on-a-stick somebody mounted in their potted plant. Just like Seymour :)
Another unmarked baggie, but we’ll presume it was this one; same work friend has shared some other Remedy Teas with me.
A tea fail morning. Couldn’t get the eyes open, family talking to and over me while getting ready, so I let this go so long that not even a sploosh of half-and-half could counteract the bitterness. User error, not tea quality.
There is some good berry potential in here; it’ll just have to wait for a morning when better attention can be paid.
This was delivered to me in a baggie from a work friend, so I’m not sure about brand. I’ll check and correct if I discover the source. (Do y’all get teased by coworkers about trafficking in contraband?)
Leaves are big as the elm leaves starting to sprinkle around on the lawn. Let it go about 3:30; the finished product is deep golden blonde. The scent of cloves and cardamom is medium; the taste of them is mild. Light and pleasant without sweetener, but a little honey or brown sugar would turn it into sugar cookies.
You need to try this. That’s all there is to it.
As I was picking a couple of samples, the Single Origin proprietor recommended this due to my obvious preference for heavy and malty teas.
An excellent call. This steeps to a rich ruby-mahogany tint, and shows off best in the baritone range. I’m picking up red grapes, maple, good rye bread; things that make you hold your tongue like that. Thick, satiny texture.
The vendor description says it takes milk well, but some teas are just too tasty to alter. Thanks to Single Origin Teas—this is superb.
Way overdue trying and reviewing this one, but it called out from the stash while the Pepperidge Farm cherry cinnamon rolls were baking.
The cookie scent is spot on. It’s very almondy without being bitter or cloyingly sweet. First cup straight up, but seconds are going to get a little milk. Kudos to keenteathyme, the Creator o’the Cuppa.