40 Tasting Notes
Purchased as part of a sampler from Adagio. I didn’t read close enough as I am not the biggest fan of flavored teas, but this was pretty enjoyable. The first steeping it puts out doesn’t taste like dirt, like so many pu-erhs do, so that was a bit of a surprise. The first steeping is colored like a weak coffee as well. The citrus notes in it are the most obvious.
Not a bad pick. I’d order it again.
I mix this in a Pyrex bowl and listen to small links of sausage sizzle in a cast iron skillet while Virginia birds announce the spring. The morning sun seems as slow to start it’s day as I am with mine. The tiny bubbles on the surface of the green tea start to pop and pop quickly. I wonder about those bubbles and then all of creation.
My girlfriend is sympathetic, texting me throughout the day. By the end of my work day I’m a bit grumpy, even irritable. My back still hurt, the boots I had worn had started to dig into one of my heels, now dead tired, and the six shots of espresso I had taken throughout the day to try to keep myself propped up had just added a strange bend to my reality which seemed to make things a bit further away than they really were.
She’s trying to be supportive, but she does it with “I’m sorry your back hurts,”, “I’m sorry you’re tired,” and I know she’s trying to be sympathetic, but “I’m sorry” comes off as an apology to me and it’s a mild irritation, and in present mindset, it’s a major irritation. I have to keep myself from re-addressing this because it’s appearing as a bigger issue than it actually is. I’m driving home and she texts me and there it is again, “I’m sorry this” “I’m sorry that” and I want to text back “You talk like your apologizing that you exist with how much you say that!”
She’s trying to help, but it bugs me, and I try to disengage from any communication with her that isn’t necessary, which probably doesn’t help her out emotionally, but I know myself and with such a internal stress, I feel like it’s only a matter of time until I let it out on her, if I keep up- that is.
I’m planning on marrying her, so I disengage and she doesn’t seem to notice, or at least doesn’t complain. I sleep, and the morning- my back still hurts, my heel is now sore from the boot, but I’m conscious and feel well rested. She sends me a picture of herself while I’m in line at the BMV waiting to get new plates and wondering why I’m the only person in line at the BMV that doesn’t look like they just got done working as an extra as a Morlock in a low-budget, made-for-TV adaptation of H. G. Wells’ The Time Machine. I want to be good to her, and sometimes that’s by doing nothing.
At home, I drink a bowl full of Teavana’s overpriced, but good matcha. My girlfriend had given me a matcha whisk for Christmas. I think she didn’t really know what it was for or what it was used for, but it was on my Amazon wishlist and carried a low price tag. I made matcha for her the last time she was visiting and she seemed to like it. I used her whisk and thought about her.
I sip this same tea that my girlfriend gave me for Christmas. I re-steep and re-steep the tea. She’s in Haiti for the week.She’s doing missionary work. Years ago, I went to Haiti, I met her sister and father, then sort of Facebook stalked her, turned out we’re really compatible and I want to marry her. That’s the long story, shortened. Funny, why would I be shortening the story for tea drinkers? I should be shortening it for the coffee drinkers. Anyway-
She lives in Virginia, I live in Ohio, it’s a long distance relationship. One would expect that I wouldn’t mind her being in Haiti, where this whole crazy thing got started, but two problems-
1) I am used to being in contestant contact with her, and Haiti doesn’t have a lot of communication infrastructure. Some fellows might be put off by a female that texts or emails or calls at least once every two hours during waking hours. And I’m one of them. But not with her. Now I drink her tea, watch things on Netflix, and try not to transpose my own emotions with those of the fake people who do fake things in movies.
2) Haiti is hell. Haiti was Hell’s next door neighbor when I went. Then her earthquake ripped the country up. Imagine the worst bedroom you’ve ever been in… You know the kind that mom says “It looks like there was a hurricane in here,” then add a real hurricane. It’s a lot like that except with lots of human beings and their lives. The UN and the Red Cross and lots and lots of American money don’t solve the problem of evil people and educating people to stand on their own. This is what worries me. America has law and order because people are used to following law and order, and therefore generally do. Haitians are not used to following law and order, and now there is no law or no order, even if someone wanted to follow.
If she’s in Virginia and something bad happens, I can put the key in the ignition, drive there, and sort things out. Haiti’s problems that would come her way would be exponentially worse than what Virginia would bring her, and I can’t just drive over there and sort out her problems. I can’t be there to protect her. I want to go to Hell to make sure she doesn’t know she’s there.
I drink her tea, I watch Netflix, and I try my hardest not to think of her at all.
I steep and re-steep this as I watch No Country for Old Men, my favorite example of American culture’s answer to the Zen koan. I use GChat to talk to my girlfriend and try not to tell her I’ve packed a bag and I’ll be driving the few hundred miles between us, and probably loosing my job in the process.
Smooth, dark, re-steeps well.
My girlfriend, and the way things are going- future wife, gave this to me for Christmas. I made it for us a few times while she visited last week. She doesn’t know much of anything about loose leaf teas, but found, likely, the tea I’d enjoy the most from World Market. Maybe it’s one of those Connections that Karl Jung was talkin’ about.
I drank some tonight, and thought about her.
The local Teavana has Dragonwell back in stock and I, well, stocked up. It’s good to have this back in my cupboard. I’ve been drinking lots of it to make up for the lost time that I haven’t had it available.
In life, I’ve found someone new and I think that this is it this time. She drinks tea, but without the disguised snobbery about it that I do. Maybe she’ll bring some balance to me.
Once again I’m in Ohio, and once again alone. Tea makes being alone better. Tea also makes being together better.
This stuff is nice and grassy, but I’d recommend any Teavana shopper to spend the bit of extra money on Dragonwell.
Still best drank from a guywan, or decanted from… The worst part is the fourth steeping… The one that follows the third AKA Should Be Last Steeping. The fourth one is a ghost and only encourages a person to find fresh leaves and start the process all over again.
I tried to think of a drug analogy for this one, but, I guess I’m out of the drug loop. Insert your own, this stuff is fantastic.
Reading Lev Grossman’s “The Magicians” sitting on the linoleum floor of my parents’ kitchen at 1am drinking Dragonwell from one of their tea cups after decanting it from my guywan. The guywan is one of my surviving tea instruments. Most of them were left behind as the detritus that serves as material collateral damage in a sudden breakup.
I’d had enough of her behavior and enough of my own self-deceit that she’d live up to her promises that she’d get better. Be better. More reliable.
So a thousand miles behind me and just shy of all of my personal belongings shed during the last four months, I block her phone number and only communicate with her through e-mail. I pay her rent, partially as a sort of non-legally-mandated alimony, partially because my name is still on the lease, and I work at forgetting that those months even happened. E-mails from her have, in only days, started to feel like waking up from a strange, confusing dream only to find that one of the characters had left a note in the waking world.
It’s good to be home.