This is my favourite by far. I have a cup of it every morning when I’m not trying to fight a cold. On the days I can’t have it, I think about how much I’d love to have it.
The dry leaves look like they were freshly picked. They’re soft to touch and have a fuzzy down that causes its silver appearance. The colour of the leaves is pale green that is sage-like in appearance, and the initial aroma is grassy. There is a faint scent that is reminiscent of seaweed. It’s not too prominent but there nonetheless. Luckily, it is soon forgotten by the soft floral notes dancing about. It’s almost like dandelions.
This tea is a little tricky to scoop because it doesn’t like to be separated. The downy texture causes the leaves to grab onto each other and unless you use your fingers or a pick to control what goes into your scoop, you can wind up with half a tin in your cup. There’s so much love here.
When the tea is first steeped, the little furs disappear and the scent becomes floral. I always feel like I’m in a meadow on a fresh day when I make this tea. There is so much Zen in this cup. The colour of the leaves becomes less silvery and takes on a darker green with some browning that resembles a little bruising.
The liquor is clear. It’s a pale greenish umber with soft yellow highlights, and the flavour is very light and delicate. There are subtle grass and floral notes that don’t overpower each other. The aftertaste is clean and its lingering effect is very subtle and refreshing.
I like the delicate flavour and aroma of this tea. It’s never bitter and it always tastes clean. I can brew it at high or low temperatures and for a short or long duration. It always tastes right. It might be too light for people who prefer their tea strong, but it’s just perfect for me.
