Eponymous tea! I’ve been looking forward to drinking, er, Shanti, for some time now. Ick, this feels weird, referring to it as “Shanti”. I know the Jessicas and Elizabeths and Jennifers of the world are used to this, but I’ve never met another Shanti before in my life, so this is exciting. Maybe I should take a page out of the GOP’s playbook and start referring us as “Shanti the Person” and “Shanti the Tea”? Or perhaps “Shantea”?
Mmm, these leaves smell mysterious and opaque. I know opaque isn’t a smell, but bear with me. You know how colors like lavender and periwinkle are always opaque and milky looking? Well, if that opaque quality had a smell, it’d smell like Shantea. It’s a very cozy, comforting smell.
Whoa. The smell coming from the liquor is smoky. Kind of like cigarettes, to be honest. And under the cigarette smoke, there’s the—OMFG I JUST SNORTED TEA UP MY NOSE. Well, that’s a first. Ow!
Where was I? Oh yeah. Smells like smoke and just barely like some kind of salted vegetable. Sipping now…Smoke! Smoke smoke smoke! There’s quiet a bit of bitterness, but it’s a good bitter. A drinkable bitter. A dull, non-astringent bitter. It fits in with the smoke nicely, and I think the tea would taste worse if it wasn’t there. The smoky, dull, opaqueness of the tea is actually making me a little sleepy. The more I sip on this, the more I taste sweet grass and hay. And gasoline, maybe. And, wow, now I’m getting flashbacks of the smell of the farms along the highway in my rural hometown in central California. It doesn’t even taste like smoke to me anymore, it tastes like driving home. And now I’m feeling all nostalgic and homesick and want to take a nap. Thanks a lot, Shantea.