It took me a while to review Pleine Lune because it’s my favourite tea. I can’t get enough of it. Some bestsellers I’m flabbergasted are even appreciated but this deserves all the praise and then some.
And I already know I can’t do it any justice but let’s try and convey ALL THE FEELINGS.
It’s a beautiful tea to look at (cornflower in tea really is my weakness), smell and drink. It reminds me rather foolishly of an impressionist painting – it’s a striking landscape full of colourful pieces which, when put together, magically become greater than the sum of their parts. There are no harsh lines in Pleine Lune, the blending is perfection so that you don’t know when one flavour ends and another begins.
I would describe it as an almond flowery tea, and this is one of the few teas that tastes exactly as good and strong at it smells, which is complex (it’s an unusual combination), grown-up (the flowers, surely) and nostalgic (I blame the sweet almond oil my mother used to wash my hair with when I was a wee child).
Pleine Lune, to me, is what tea is about. You can’t get this sort of fantastic aroma of such different food categories as nuts and flowers from any other beverage. And the comfort that comes attached to a mug full of hot Pleine Lune with just a drop of milk and honey is unparalleled.
I credit this for getting me through the year. I know that whatever happens during the day, I’ll at least be able to truly enjoy something in it. I always allow guests to choose which tea they’d like to drink from my stash when I offer hot beverages and everyone’s always picked Pleine Lune; and for some reason every time someone smells it for the first time, it always reminds them of a memory long forgotten. Pleine Lune, it seems, is a lot of people’s madeleine.
I love this so much.
