What came over me, that I felt compelled to bump this tea down below the 90 bracket? I think what may have happened is that, in the course of my adventures in the land of sophisticated, complex teas — rare teas; teas with character; teas that cost as much as a nice-but-not-quite-fantastic-pair-of-cute-shoes — I may have begun to feel as though my enjoyment of this tea was merely the lack of a proper tea education. That I had been young, naive and innocent, with stars in my eyes for any teaspoon of leaves that didn’t make me cringe, inexperienced and far too ready to fall for whatever tasty morsel happened to be floating in my infuser.
Well, that’s stupid.
This is good tea.
Honestly I tend to forget that I have it, which may seem to indicate that it isn’t all that good…but when I remember that I have it and open the gigantic tin from Teavana that I dedicated to this tea, the aroma that comes drifting out practically makes my mouth water.
At this point, I have had a ton of black teas. Black tea is my every-single-day-without-fail tea, in its many varieties and iterations, and I think that I can say that I’m well armed to make the assessment that this one is kind of special, infinitely more savory than so many other black teas I’ve tried, with a sugary, raisiny profile and a subtle malt for a bready note. Sipping it right now as I nibble a slice of dried cantaloupe, the world is a blissful place.
The official information up top says that the batches capture the season, which makes me nervous. Would a re-order be as good as what I’ve got in my cabinet?
