22 Tasting Notes
In short: NO.
Slightly more in depth: This tasting note is mostly to remind myself not to fall for the enticing lure of everything pumpkin spice, again. Because. No. Nope. Not this time, world. You won’t get me again! Not everything labelled pumpkin will be delicious. A lesson has been learned. This tea was so musty I ended up dumping my cup.
Finishing off the last bit of this tin—thank goodness! I remember ADORING this tea. It was lovely and sweet, all caramel apple and roasted rice and creamy butter. But recently, whenever I reached for this blend, all I got was a single note of granny smith apple. It still SMELLED delicious, but was overpoweringly tart.
I finished my packet of this tea a couple . . . weeks ago, I think? Oops. I’d been saving it and saving it and saaaaaaving it, and then the slightly crazed part of me couldn’t take the sight of it anymore. So, I brewed up the remains of my leaves, and the cup didn’t disappoint. Bread and chocolate and chestnuts, oh my. It’s similar to LB, yes, but I think I prefer the roasted oolong overall. There’s something with the mouthfeel of this one that is just SO. GOOD. A bit more sweetness, too, maybe? Delicious.
I’ve been on a mission to find the best, most-drinkable grocery store bagged-chai.
This is usually my face, in emoticon montage:
- :/ (brew) - :( (taste) - DDD: (nurse)
Nothing disgusting, but nothing remarkable either. I picked this one up yesterday, and it’s . . . fine. There’s little to no body in the cup, so there’s an overwhelming sense of sipping down some clove-and-cinnamon water. A little bit of milk helps. I’m wondering if a spoon of honey might make this shine a little more, too. An experiment for the next cup.
I’m having this as a cheapie latte today (filled a mug halfway with almond milk, microwaved it, topped it off with boiled water, then steeped forever) and again, it is delicious. I’ve been trying to wean myself off of mass caffeine consumption (I have a hunch my daily tea/coffee intake was bordering on obsessive and/or unhealthy) and so. Herbals and rooibos? I’m coming for you.
A part of me REFUSES to believe I’m actually enjoying rooibos. I mean. Come on! Really? It’s like my world is being upended. What is truth? What is life? NOTHING IS CERTAIN NOW.
Usually, I find rooibos to have an odd, scratchy, hay-like flavour accompanied by a really unpleasant throat-drying sensation. I don’t know, I just felt like I was a horse on a liquid diet? Ughh. Anyways. Not so, in this case! This is soft, a touch sweet, and gently warming. None of the spices are clamouring to be heard, let alone trying to punch anyone in the face. I’m sipping this one back while gearing up to watch the final episode of Black Butler: Book of Circus, and I gotta say, it’s pure comfort. Which you know. I’m in need of. Because LAST EPISODE HOW WILL I SURVIVE.
This was a sample with my most recent order—was stoked, as this was the blend I was most excited to try out of the new fall teas. The dry smell made me smile-cringe simultaneously, reminding me first of that delightful apple-y smell you find in orchards / pick-your-own farms, and second, of … apple gum? I think I’m thinking of Trident’s layered gums? Yikes. It brewed up a pale gold colour not unlike apple juice, and then I sipped and . . . well. There’s a zippy tartness to it, followed by a really chemical taste that lingers in the throat. And I’m saying this as someone who usually has no problems with artificial flavourings. But damn this was strong.
One of my housemates during my Queen’s days introduced me to Celestial Seasonings, and I have super fond memories of both her and of those long ago days. This tea is warming, spicy, and alarmingly sweet—in other words, it’s a nice and much more budget friendly option for anyone who likes Hot Cinnamon Spice. I like to drink it plain in an overly large mug, and with the bag permanently steeping.
To all past reviewers who said this was Earl Grey-ish? High five, y’all. Totally on point! This tea has a light, citrusy twist that reminds me of a cup of Earl Grey with a wedge of lemon squeezed haphazardly into it. It’s a delicate, fragrant tea—the scent, when I pop open the tin, is kind of Nestea-ish, or like Bath & Body Works’ London Calling candle—and I’ve learned that a short steep is the way to go. Still, there IS a dryness to this tea, no matter how you leaf / brew. The aftertaste makes me think I just sucked on some fresh lemon peels: really mouth puckering, but fresh and pleasant, all the same.
Sooooooooo. Smooooooooth. Like, hot damn, Catherine. Way to be stepping it up like a true Queen. I finished the last of my H&S English Breakfast the other day, and if comparing these two, there’s really no competition. This is sweet and smooth and more of a gentle poke in the morning, rather than a full on slap to the face. A great morning cup. I’m especially loving the slight smokiness at the back of the sip.