1625 Tasting Notes
There are not adjectives powerful enough to describe how I loathe springing forward. Sorry, DST lovers. My poor circadian rhythms are in a tailspin.
Nothing’ll do but tea-based caffeine at its stoutest until I actually see daylight in the morning again. So this may be in the frequent-drinker lineup for a while. When you dole out the leaves judiciously, it has a little coppery-fruity foretaste. As it sits, it just builds more muscle. Muscle I need to drag me through the day, I think.
Hubby went peppercorn crazy at the bulk herb store and the pink ones were just so cute…
…that I crushed a pinch of them into this nice orangey blend, most often compared to Creamsicle flavor. Their presence was detectible when the cup was hot, less so as it cooled.
Which leads to a couple of questions for amateur or pro blenders and alchemists: 1) how many peppercorns does it take to really warm your cup up? 2) what kinds of tea do you or would you put a peppercorn in?
This is my other alt-health experiment for girl stuff. Husband teased me; said it looked like dryer lint. (He’s right.) But again, health benefits outweigh attractiveness. Here’s a rundown: http://wellnessmama.com/5107/herb-profileraspberry-leaf/
It tastes like what you’d expect from a raspberry leaf—35% raspberry, 65% plant roughage. Not particularly sweet or bitter; just leafy. I’m thinking it might be really pleasant chilled come summer.
Updated to the correct supplier; it’s a bulk buy from my local bulky herb place. Cheap; $1.79 for 2 ounces.
Have been wanting to give this a try since I heard about it on Dr. Oz as a good appetite suppression/diet companion tea. (I don’t take Dr. Oz as a final authority; that’s just where it came to my attention.) However, it does sound like I’m drinking a cup of vitamins: Fresh chickweed contains high amounts of vitamin C, as well as vitamins A, D and B. Iron, calcium and potassium can also be found in chickweed.
So, there you go. From a health standpoint, it sure can’t hurt. From an enjoyment standpoint, it may take a little massaging. Straight up, it tastes like green wood soup with a little dandelion thrown in. Savory, not sweet. I’m thinking something fruity or flowery (apple? tulsi? lemongrass? lavender?) might tone down the barkiness.
I rarely sweeten my tea, but I needed something to convince my rotten sweet tooth that I really don’t need dessert. (That lovely spring-weather realization that one must streamline if one doesn’t want to buy a new wardrobe in slightly larger dimensions…) Oh, well, it’s supposed to get cold again. I’ll pile on another layer.
So I drizzled a little honey in the bottom of the cup before steeping this. Gives it enough extra sweetness to mimic an apple turnover.
Keep the bag in when you drink this one.
Need to finish the packet of this before it loses its Irish fling, and as it’s a little long in the tooth, need to step up the steep time and amount o’wee leafies. As it is, the creme gets you before the mint.
But today I would gladly imbibe generic-grade grocery store fannings as long as I can do as I just did…rocking slowly outdoors in my patio glider (first time in too many months!) watching the daffodils grow.
This tin is nearly empty, and it’s had a hard life. The vanilla’s waning. But keeping with “use it up, wear it out, make it do, or do without” (thank you Ma Ingalls), I tossed in a fingertip sized pinch of cacao nibs and a pinch of calendula leaves. That added a little twinkle and a little sweetness.
I have two quart jars of calendula leaves. At one small pinch per steeping experiment, my supply could well outlive me.
This one is getting old, but it’s still juicy, not too acidic, a little cocoa taste at the very bottom of each sip. (Have been doing much troubled philosophical pondering this week on the validity of the “it has to be new to be good” mindset, so this was a good fit.)
I don’t give Darjeelings enough time and consideration. This is good.