389 Tasting Notes
Having this in between class. I was carrying three tins on me today—Earl Grey, 1001 Nights, and this. My travel tin of Lapsang is almost empty, oh no! I need to go home and refill it.
My Libre has been on and off temperamental today. It leaked the first time, not the second or third, and then I flip it for my smoky tea, and it leaks ALL over the place (and usually it only leaks when it’s on its side, and if you wipe the inside rim before you screw the parts together, it prevents this!). It stopped quickly enough, flipped it back rightside up and it was fine, but then I went and opened it (I waited a few seconds and gave it a few shakes to get rid of water that may have collected in the rim) and it EXPLODED water everywhere. Not a good thing to have near a laptop.
So I LOST some water in the process, but there’s still a drinkable amount here. Baaah.
The cafeteria at my college gives you water at 190 degrees (I know, I checked—got weird looks the whole time standing there with a thermometer in a weird glass travel mug).
Even after this I can’t hate Libre; I just keep blaming the leaks on myself. I probably didn’t wipe the inside enough, or screw the pieces together tight enough, or shake the water out of the cap well enough. I still love you, Libre.
Hmm tea came out a bit watery (funny, considering how much water I lost in the process of making it), but still deep and smoky pine tasting (I love that pineness—it’s weird and sweet), and seriously warming to the soul. The Libre container keeps my hands pleasantly warm and the smokyness of the tea keeps my insides pleasantly warm, and now it’s almost a bad thing because I’m feeling somewhat sleepy as a result, and I want to climb into a sleeping back outside in the fresh air and take a nap.
If I wasn’t so impossibly busy with class and work, I would go camping, I think.
There’s a slight, weird aftertaste in the back of the throat—it’s not bad or good, and I can’t really tell what it is (or if it’s due to the tea, or if it had already been there and I just hadn’t noticed it until now). Barky, I think. Maybe it’s the pine taste.
Also, mmmm smoky breath. My favourite part.
Ooookay! Steeped this one to taste, which was somewhere between thirty seconds and forty-five. I knew any longer than that and I wouldn’t be able to stand it. I used the still-hot water from the rooibos, and it was at a drinkable temperature already, so it probably wasn’t very hot at all.
First thing first, I reeeeeally haaaate mint. Mint gum, ew. After-dinner mints make my skin crawl. I don’t like the artificial cold feeling. Bleeeech. I’ve only ever liked spearmint, in that pink gum. Which probably isn’t actually what spearmint TASTES like.
This is okay at thirty-seconds in warm, almost-hot water. It smells STRONGLY of peppermint (I know, I’ve had that stuff growing in my garden for years). I think I can make out the tarragon. Liquorishy. Which actually doesn’t go too bad. Faint.
Makes my breath feel cool and minty like mouthwash, but not TOO bad. I doubt I’d be able to drink this if it were any stronger. At any rate, since I dislike mint so strongly (although this tea’s okay—brisk), I don’t think it proper that I give this a rating. I’m too strongly biased.
I needed something hot to sip on to keep me up while I worked on a geomorphology program, but not tea because I didn’t want to be AWAKE the whole night after I finished. I pulled this out of my mother’s freezer and made a cup. The bag smelt… woody with a faint berry. The tea itself smelt MUCH more like some form of berry.
It’s got a very silky mouth-feel (hey look! I use that word now too!). It’s got a berry…ness, but I wouldn’t really call it a taste. A tangyness at the back of my throat as well—unrelated, though. And then a mild woody (but not barky; somehow, there is a difference) rooibos taste. It’s okay. Didn’t wow me or anything, but I’ll probably drink it again sometime, come another late-night college project.
can’t remember the temperature… just under boiling I guess, and steeped around fourish minutes by the time I started sipping it, but left the bag in as I sipped a while longer before removing it.
Yiiiick, I just made the mistake of throwing two teabags of this into a too-small pot. I thought it was big enough for two, but apparently I was wrong. The tea got bitter FAST (four minutes!?), and it was STRONG. Very bitter and too strong, and yuck—even with milk and honey, there was nothing I could do. Never again shall I use more than one teabag. Not unless the pot exceeds four cups capacity at LEAST.
I was afraid I was going to brew this tea and my poor palette would be unable to tell it from Caravan. They certainly smell quite similar. But lapsang smells VERY different once brewed. You can definitely tell that it was smoked over pine. The pine is there. Mmm, campfire. Mostly because pine’s often what we end up throwing on it. I can’t stop sniffing it. It’s very nice.
The taste is definitely weaker than caravan. But I can’t remember—maybe I steeped that one longer. Taste’s quite different. Sweeter. The pine, maybe. Still savoury. When I purchased this, the lady gave me an odd look and asked if I had ever had it before. I suppose I should have seen it coming—people either love or hate this tea. I explained that I had been meaning to try it (she let me sniff it, and it smelt as expected). Mm, I like it. I think I like Russian Caravan more, but maybe I should have just steeped this one longer. It’s got a… deeper flavour though, I think. Tasty.