takgoti

Auggy was drinking this a couple of days ago, and so I decided to drink it as well, as I’d also gotten some from teaplz. [Folks, it took me literally five minutes to structure that sentence to a point where it made sense so please bear with me today. I also just typed out “sentence,” as esetnce, senetence, setence, sentece, and pony. I don’t know what’s going on this week, I’ve got a really bad case of the mental klutzes.]

I was expecting something like Decaffeinated Chai Agni. That, this was not.

I should have been expecting it after reading Auggy’s review [which I am now perusing again and is bringing me to realize I’m about two days behind on logs]. First of all, at times it smelled like Red Vines [best red licorice ever]. Red Vines, but also…peanut brittle? Maybe? It was something specific, but I couldn’t quite place it and whatever it was that I was smelling was not matching up with what I was expecting to smell.

When I started sipping it, all I could think at first was, “Yep. This isn’t chocolate.” When I began to try and place what it was, all I could think of was that toffee, caramel-like, brittle-taste. I’d almost call it butterscotch. Somewhere in that general family of tastes was where this landed for me.

And then the chili started to arrive, like a train approaching in the distance. I could feel its presence in little pwiffs on the tip of my tongue, and then it grew in volume where it was undeniably there. Luckily, it remained at a volume where it was enjoyable. In that aspect, it reminded me quite a bit of the Decaf Chai Agni [and thankfully, not of the Mayan Chocolate thing].

I’d like to say that I was able to find some chocolate in the tea, but I don’t think I did. At times, I thought I might be tasting it, but it never grabbed me enough to be able to say anything definitively. What I did taste, when I thought I was tasting it, wasn’t a dark chocolate, or a cocoa, or a good milk chocolate taste. It wasn’t Godiva, and it wasn’t even Hershey’s, it was like…Russell Stover. Or Fannie May. Not that I want to rag on those two companies, but in the hierarchy of quality chocolate I’d pin them near the bottom of the totem pole. It’s not that they’re bad, they’re just…no Scharffen Berger. So I’m going to officially unofficially declare that this tea had no chocolate taste for me.

When these two things came together [and it’s possible there were more components to it that I just wasn’t able to pick out], I didn’t really know what to think. Forgiving the absence of chocolate in a supposedly chocolate tea [which was a bit of a high hump to climb over] the tastes did not marry well in my mind. When I think butterscotch sprinkled with chili powder, I do not think, “Oooh, NOM.” And that is what I was essentially tasting. To repeat the mantra that I seem to be using for many of these types of teas that fall in this category for me, “It wasn’t bad, it was just…not good.”

The chili on its own was nice. That was at a good level. I wish I had gotten some vanilla bean from it like Auggy had, because I can see vanilla and chili possibly working together well-ish.

I can’t paint my face and jump up screaming in the stands for this tea. I’m not even sure that I’d sit there and half-heartedly wave a flag. But I’ll go to the game and drink a beer. And if they want me to hold up one of those colored cards to make some kind of picture message at some point, I’ll do that, too, even if mainly because no one likes the dead-pixel-a**hat who refuses to do even that. This metaphor is out of control. I’m going to end this log.

There was something off about this tea.

The smell reminded me of medicine, for one. I think that it had to do with the fact that so many medicines are “berry” flavored and the vanilla aspect of this for me contained the alcohol-ish aspect of vanilla extract.

The taste was marginally better, though what I mainly got berry out of this and I wanted more vanilla. The vanilla taste that I got, when it occasionally decided to surface, gasping for breath in the sea of nondistinctive berry flavor, didn’t really taste like vanilla. It was more extract-like, to begin with, but even the creamier aspect of it wasn’t quite vanilla flavored. Looking at the list of ingredients, I think that it’s because this contained white chocolate [which I usually like, but am not sure how I feel about it in tea]. I also think that a lot of the medicinal taste came from an unfortunate combination/balancing of the hibiscus, the rooibos, and the currant that are all supposed to be in this tea.

Maybe I just got a bad spoonful. I’m hoping that’s part of it, because I couldn’t resist trying Caramelized Pear again and it wasn’t nearly as good the second time around – not as rich and caramel-tasting, mainly pear, and the rooibos was coming through that time around. I think it was mainly because I was getting kind of the dregs [I didn’t have any apple pieces in that one, though teaplz isn’t to blame as the sample she sent me was taken from a sample].

I apologize because I’m beginning to confuse myself here as I’m kind of behind on logging the new teas I’ve been trying. To put this into some semblance of order, I tried Vanilla Berry Truffle, was disappointed, then had Caramelized Pear a couple of days later and realized that it might be because I wasn’t getting a good array of physical components into the actual tea.

Though, re-reading teaplz’s log, she wasn’t terribly happy with this tea either. So…

I don’t know. I’m having a weird day. I’ve been having these moments where I get songs stuck in my head, and then I hear them over loud-speakers when I go out or to run errands [often muzaked]. It’s been making me feel like I’m on an extremely boring version of the Truman Show. And trying to transition from doing f***-all to studying is leaving me murky and smogged. My chi has been Los Angeles’d. Does any of this even make sense? What is a horse shoe? What does a horse shoe do? Are there any horse socks? Is anybody listening to me?

I wasn’t taken away by this tea, but it wasn’t horrible. It was bizarre and imbalanced, not unlike this review. It was yellow slanty-mouth on the Steepster sliding scale. So that’s where it’s going.

I picked this up on a whim when I was in the grocery store the other day. I won’t lie, it was because I thought the box was pretty [but it also helped that I’d had a good experience with Mariage Frères previously].

The dry leaves have a strong scent, reminiscent of the great Marco Polo experience of 2009 [ah, 2009] except instead of smelling like Strawberries on Steroids [coming atcha in 2011] it smells like Cherry Blossoms on PCP. So, delicious.

The scent actually reminds me of a few things. Grenadine, for one. Also, some types of gum. Extra, maybe, or Bubblicious. But most of all, Mr. Bubble bubble bath, which my parents would not let me or my brother have anymore after one of us dumped half a container in the bathtub. [I still maintain that it was him.]

Taste wise, this tea is light, like sugared flowers. That kind of light. It’s sweet, and that stays with me in the aftertaste and pulses in intensity as I breathe in and out.

It actually reminds me of Ludens cough drops, which, as anyone who has them may be aware, can be most accurately called candy. They do not taste like cough drops. I am 98% sure they are just candy and have little to no medicinal value. They taste a hell of a lot better than regular cough drops do as a result [if you like candy, that is] and I would beg my dad to bring some home when I was sick. [He often did, on the condition that I actually ate one real cough drop for every three Ludens or something like that.] Anyhow, this tea reminds me of that, just with the volume turned down a bit.

If I were to sum up this tea in one word, it would be sparkling. It seems to shimmer with sweetness, and has this almost nectar-like quality to it.

Mariage Frères didn’t offer any insight for steeping, so I put it in for three minutes, drank about a third of the cup, stuck it in for two more, and then drank the rest. The three minute mark had more flavor, so next time I’ll try a full cup there and probably continue to play around with some more steep times and stuff. I know that I’m tired because in that previous sentence, I wrote “but so and,” so…I’m going to stop here.

Oh, except to say that this note is based on the 3 minute steeping because I liked the flavor better there.

Okay, but so and good nighting!

I was thrilled to receive a tea swap package from the lovely teaplz recently and this was in it.

Oh, Steepsterites.

Pear tea is not something I’ve had a lot of good luck with. It’s my favorite fruit [thinking about the validity of that statement and deciding it’s definitely true], and therefore it’s not something that I’m going to be satisfied with if I have to reach for in a tea. [Kind of like the elusive pumpkin, I suppose.] I don’t want it to be light and floaty, though light and floaty pear done well is better than artificial or this ain’t pear. I want it to be in my face and smack me around a bit.

Oh, Steepsterites.

The fact that this combines with my favorite dessert flavor [thinking about the validity of that statement and deciding it’s definitely true] means that this tea could easily be my Icarus. It could soar up high on the warm air currents and then tumble silently before crashing fatally into the sea.

Fortunately, this tea is like Icarus’ happy ending. It’s the Icarus Remix. Pears have a relatively short season where they’re really good [or at least it seems that way because I can’t get enough of them when they’re around] and this tea is going to become like crack for me, especially when pears aren’t in season. I’m already calling it, everyone. When I get really effing weird on Steepster [weirder – that is] and start spitting nonsense, it’s going to be because I’m either out of Ryokucha or this tea. Look forward to it.

Take a second to travel to Imaginationland for a second with me here. Think about a nice, ripe, juicy pear. You know, where they’re in that state of limbo between firm and mushy and when you bite into it you have to have a towel on hand [if you care about that kind of thing] because you inevitably end up making a mess. Now, cut that pear up into little half inch cubes and stick them in a bowl. You still with me? Okay, now there’s a saucepan on the stove to your left. It’s got some caramel sauce bubbling in it – deep orange-brown, bubbling, thick, and satiny. Give it a good stir, cut off the heat, and let it cool for a minute. Excellent. Take the caramel, and pour that all over the pear bits. The whole thing. Don’t hold back. Stir everything around gently, do not smush the pear.

Now, take out a spoon. Put the spoon in your mouth. Remove your belt and wrap it around your head. Take off your shoes and go outside. There will be a bag of trash in your trashcan. Take that out, and…

I’m kidding, I’m kidding.

Okay, take the spoon. Dip into the mixture and…I think you can take it from there.

That is what this tea tasted like to me. It was rich, and the caramel and the pear were both just so very much present. Between the mouthfeel and the taste and just the absolute giddiness I got from the fact that they nailed the pear so hard it won’t see straight until the weekend. Just…AH.

The two tastes didn’t combine often. When they did, it was maybe just a smidge weird, but the majority of the time it tasted like a piece of pear coated in decadent caramel, and Zeus help me, it’s going to take an insane amount of willpower to keep this sample from disappearing before I order it.

As it cooled, the caramel started to melt away a bit and the pear came to the forefront. The only thing that could keep me from being disappointed at this is the fact that I love pear to the point that it raises eyebrows, but the fact that the tea did this for me is something that I think y’all should be aware of. [This was also true of the second steep – more pear than anything else. I let it sit for seven minutes on the second infusion, but I’ll try steeping it a little longer next time. The more mileage I can get out of this the better, I think.] Oh, and the rooibos didn’t come into the picture at all.

Anyhow, win. Just…win. It was such a win that everything else could have lost that day and I wouldn’t have cared much. The ONLY reason that this tea isn’t going to get a flat out 100 from me is unfortunately because of something that also makes it so awesome. It is sweet and rich and a full on dessert tea. I can’t drink this every day, though I wish I could. If I did, I’d get sick of it, which would make my tea self cry, and this is not a tea I want to have to take out of rotation.

Anyhow.

ABSO-EFFING-LUTELY DELICIOUS. Thanks, teaplz!

On Monday, I made a cup of this but I came down with a headache and a fever and I felt like I wanted to vomit, so instead of activating plan A [studying and drinking tea], I activated plan B [sleep until my next class]. Consequently, this cup went cold.

Today, I decided it deserved a take two, so I made a cup of it.

It says “blend,” so I can only assume that there are multiple types of tea in this. I tasted what I thought might be some Ceylon, and than I got some nearing intense bitterness that made me think Darjeeling. The bitterness wasn’t as strong as a previous encounter with the Autumnal Darjeeling Auggy sent me, but it was familiar enough that it made me “hurm.”

I became even more suspicious when that bitterness began to sweeten in the aftertaste, and then as it cooled a bit more became even more indicative of that muscat taste.

Upon reading the description of this tea, I’m somewhat confused because I didn’t get any Keemun out of it. I didn’t really spend a lot of time smelling the leaves or the tea. I don’t know why, as I seem to be very much all about that lately. Anyway, I’ve got enough left of this to play around a bit, so I’ll be doing that.

Sorry this log is lacking in complete thoughts and cohesiveness. All I wrote down from my drink earlier today was:

DARJEELING.
ceylon?

And combined with the fact that Craig Ferguson is talking at the screen with an alligator puppet in a Cajun-Scottish accent, it’s making this difficult.

Okay, I’m done.

This tea is interesting.

And I don’t mean interesting as in that thing you say when you don’t know what to say. I mean interesting as in it is full and varied and complex and it made my brain go to several different places all at once. I knew I wasn’t going to be logging this when I drank it, so I was typing down some words when I did, and every single time that I did something – smelled it, sipped it, swished it, whatever, I found something different.

I was flooded with flavors and smells and texture and memories and wow. This tea was bombarding me with so many things that I could barely keep up. And at the same time I was trying to think, and to place things I wasn’t recognizing instantaneously. It was overwhelming, yet invigorating.

So I’m going to try and piece this together, but forgive me if it comes out a little disjointed, because to me this is like launching someone up into the middle of the sky during the fireworks, bringing them back down, and then asking, “So, what was it like?”

First, this tea is strong. For what it’s worth, I put about a teaspoon and a half in ten ounces of water. This was also my very first experience with it, so I’ll probably try a shorter steep time just to see if that has any effect, though this level of flavor met me well.

There were only two components of this tea that did not strongly remind me of summer – the cinnamon and the tail of the sip that made me think of unsweetened cranberry juice. [Yes, this tea contains hibiscus. And yes, it is bold at the finish. If you can’t handle it I don’t recommend this tea, but you should be aware that this tea holds so much more than hibiscus.] As for the rest of it…

The dry leaf reminds me of peaches or apricots – ripe and juicy and slurpy – and they’re accompanied by cinnamon. Wet, the leaf takes on a bunch of different tones. Sometimes it smelled to me like fruit punch. Then it was potpourri [but not in a bad way]. Then [and it took me a bit of thought to place this] it smelled distinctly like popsicles. You know, the fruit flavored ones that come in the white paper packaging. It had that muted fruitiness, accompanied by that dryness from the ice.

And then, perhaps strangely, I smelled chlorine. I swam competitively for a pretty long time, so chlorine, though really relatively the same from pool to pool, has different connotations to me; different smells. This was summer chlorine; the smell that rises off the soaked concrete of the pool deck as the sun beats down relentlessly. We would slink out of the water, exhausted after a particularly difficult practice and lie, half-heartedly stretching to try and quell the lactic acid that would shortly turn us into human noodles. That strange, unexpected yet familiar chlorine smell was also present in the liquid, but it came and went, dodging between the scent of peach pie sprinkled with cinnamon.

I wasn’t sure what I was going to get from this exactly, so I tentatively took a quick sip. I didn’t let it sit in my mouth for very long, and just swallowed it and I quickly realized this was not going to be enough time to get anything out of it except the resulting tartness. On the next sip, I held it in my mouth and let it roam around a bit. The hibiscus taste was there, but along with it was apple – not particularly sweet, but tart apple, and something else that I couldn’t place. I gulped that sip down [the cranberry taste, as I discovered, was more apparent to me if i swallowed quickly, the hibiscus aspect clearer if I let it make it’s way down more slowly] and took another sip in.

This time, I held the tea at the front of my mouth, just tasting it with the tip of my tongue. Here, I could definitely taste the cinnamon. That was very apparent. But there was something else swirling around with it that I couldn’t quite figure out until it side-swiped my brain.

PLUM.

It was so clearly plum. I don’t know how to break it down anymore than that, I can just say that once I recognized it I nearly face-palmed.

The rest of my cup was spent holding the tea at the tip of my tongue and then pounding it down when I was ready to swallow. I seriously enjoyed that plum cinnamon-y taste, and found the cranberry tartness at the finishing strangely refreshing. I was slightly, slightly disappointed that there weren’t really any peach or apricot flavors to be found, though honestly I think that the rest of the tea was so intense I think it would have been completely drowned out.

I’m wondering if a shorter infusion will dial everything down enough to bring out more flavors, or if it will simply make for a softer cup of tea. Anyhow, this made for a really neat experience. I got a bit more complexity out of the aroma than I did the actual taste of the tea, but that plum cinnamon combination was delightful. I’ll also have to try this iced when the weather turns warmer. Anyhow, right now I’m not thinking that this is going to be a re-order for me. It’s almost too loud for me to enjoy as a tea to drink before bed [which is what I’d want it for since it’s decaf], but for the time being I think I’ll really enjoy this tin.

Smoky
Caramel
Honey
Bitter
Thick
Chocolate
Cocoa

These are some components that I have found in unflavored black teas. If you stripped them from all of their respective counterparts, I’m pretty sure that Ceylon is what you’d be left with. It tastes like black tea without the cool stuff.

And yet, there’s something really compelling about it. It’s plain, yes, but it’s comfortable. It’s familiar. And it’s smooth, smooth, smooth.

This tea is Doug Funny.

Chik-a-pa chik-a-pa chik-a-pa boo-shwaaaaaah.

Most black tea I’ve tried has this really distinct flavor that I can’t seem to pick apart, so in my head I’ve just labeled it as “black tea flavor.” This tea has that. I took a sip and it was all, “O hai! I’m in ur cup, blackin ur tea.”

It doesn’t have any smokiness, but it doesn’t quite read as “smooth” to me. It’s somewhere in between the two, which would almost be unsettling if it wasn’t sweet. It’s a pleasant kind of sweet; I enjoy it. And it helps with the bitterness that greets you at the tail of the sip.

About halfway through the cup I started to notice that it was drying my mouth out a bit. Not a ton, but enough to be noticeable. Also, the cocoa started to really come through, especially when combined with that bitter taste at the end. It was much more noticeable when I was inhaling, and if I kept my mouth closed and breathed in through my nose I could taste it a bit, too.

The last little bit of what I had in my cup got rather cool, which confirmed my suspicion that this tea runs best for me when it’s between hot and lukewarm. Overall, a pleasant tea that doesn’t really stand out all that much. Might be good for a lazy afternoon spent perusing the newspaper.

It’s taken me forever plus three days to get around to logging these suckers. I’d sat down to do it one day and then realized that it’d been too long since I actually drank them and wanted to wait until I tried them again before logging them.

Now that that incredibly boring explanation is out of the way, on to the tea.

This Dragonwell rates a solid second on my Dragonwell scale. It’s not a light, dancing, happy sweetness like that darned Dragonwell Spring that Carolyn sent me. It does, however, have some sweetness to it.

The first thing that struck me is that this tea brewed up into a very light yellow color. I don’t know why I made a note of this, but it was very, very light. I’ve had a lot of teas that have been brewing up near colorless lately, but it’s still novel enough for me t notice it when it happens.

Also, the leaves, and this is gonna sound kinda crazy, smelled like turkey when I sniffed them from up above. It took me a while to place it, but when I realized it I said aloud, “Holy poop, turkey!” [Except “poop” was replaced with its four-lettered cousin.] Curious, I sniffed them again closer, through the infuser, and they smelled like green beans – specifically the canned variety.

It had been long enough since I’d tried this that I couldn’t remember exactly what to expect from this [secretly, I’m using these tea logs to replace my BRAIN]. The biggest taste that I got from it was, perhaps not surprisingly, green beans. Fresher green beans than what it smelled like, but green beans. A little salty, more sweet, though. And maybe with just a hint of smoke.

I’m going to try bringing the temperature down to 160 and see what that does for it. I’ll be able to compare better now that I have it in my brain.

Ever since I read this: http://bit.ly/6kBYYq, I have been obsessed with trying this tea. So, when I decided it was time to put another order through with Rishi, Ancient Yellow Buds was the first tea on my list.

Not gonna lie, it’s pretty amazing.

First things first, this tea brews clear [or very nearly so]. It doesn’t look like you’ve done anything. I was thrown by this a bit, but now you know, and knowing is half the battle. [Cue shooting star rainbow swipe thingy.]

I’m going to have to agree with LENA, in that I primarily get honeysuckle out of this. Lovely, concentrated, honey combined with that almost strained sweetness from cholorphyll and a nectar-like thickness honeysuckle. It also did this crazy wonderful thing for me where, once I had swallowed the tea, I could feel the lingering honeysuckle taste actually dissolving on my tongue. Physically felt it. Like cotton candy, that kind of sensation, except not sickly sweet. Or angel food cake. It was awesome.

But the thing that kicks this tea from “love it” to “I am going to throw down some serious hyperbole and expletives until you try this” is the fact that lightly, in the aftertaste, towards the back of my tongue, I get the taste of freshly baked white bread, sweet and yeasty. This is not obvious. I like to wait in between sips of my tea, and that’s probably why I noticed it.

I did three steeps of this at varying times [gauge reflects the first one, Rishi recommends 3 minutes and then 4-5 on second and third steeps, which is what I did]. I don’t really see any need to deviate from these times, but I might since I definitely have enough to experiment a bit. Speaking of which, I bought 4 ounces of it, which I’m very glad of now because I expect that I’ll be drinking a lot of it. Anyhow, if any of this sounds even remotely appealing to you I’d suggest that you get it.

Auggy was kind enough to send me a little of this. This is the first gyokuro I’ve made myself and I wanted to do it up right so I got a kyusu. The tea arrived here before the kyusu did, so there was a bit of an internal battle going on until I got my Rishi stuff. I was literally, at one point, standing and staring at this tea until I caught myself and shook myself out of it.

Anyhow, I was good and I waited. I’m not sure what difference making this in the kyusu made, but I liked rocking and swishing the stuff out.

I read/heard/saw somewhere that gyokuros are supposed to sit for 5 or so minutes in cold/room temperature water to open them up and keep them from before steeping them warm. That’s something that’s stuck with me for some reason, but I’m also not sure how specific that is to the type of gyokuro, and whatnot. I’ve also read many different things about water to leaf ratios and the temperature of water that’s “supposed” to be used for hot/warm infusions. I’ve heard that you’re not supposed to use water hotter than 160°F and that you should infuse in ice water. What all of this has led me to believe is that I just need to drink a lot more gyokuro and see what slams my door.

Anyway, I let this sit in some room temperature for five minutes. [I did try to drink that but it was relatively flavorless.] Then I did about four steeps at 1 minute in 140°F water, all of which tasted relatively the same. I probably could have kept going, to be honest, and I make a face as I type this – I think I might have wasted the leaves as a result. I also see that Auggy has varied her steeping times for different infusions [which is what you’re probably supposed to do]. Luckily, I have some left of this to play around with, so I’ll have to try steeping otherwise. I think I’m going to try and read some more about these before I do, because right now I’m very much saturated with conflicting information and I think some of it’s going to begin dripping out if I don’t try and filter and sort some of it.

All right, enough about my brain scream over “proper” gyokuro steeping. The tea. The tea was good! I really doubt that this truly shows the range of where this can go, but I enjoyed what I got out of it and that’s a good thing. What I was missing was that buttery taste that both the description and Auggy both mentioned. I was searching for it, and I think that maybe because I was I thought I caught a glimpse of it, but that could have been purely psychological. What I did get was a vegetal taste followed by a delicious, chlorophyll-y sweetness. The sweetness was bright and high and clear, and only grew in volume when accompanied by inhalation. It also, and I’m really not sure how to describe this accurately, it tingled. It hopped around on my tongue.

This experience has intrigued me enough to really become interested in gyokuro, so I think I’ll be trying to procure some more and do a little experimenting.

Also, should you be interested, pictures of the new kyusu begin here [they are, however, without tea]. http://bit.ly/5oRgh0

Auggy already commented on how to drive Jackee Muntz into Caramel City, so I’m going to take this opportunity to get a little goofy on y’all. [Like I really need an excuse.] I can’t take credit for this idea. While I’m sure it’s been done elsewhere, I’m sapping inspiration from both an episode of Hey Ash Whatcha Playin’ and a rather brilliant Yelp review a friend of mine wrote. If any of you have never stumbled across text-based games, you might not get this. So here’s something ridiculous that may or may not help: http://bit.ly/DgJqE [Homestar Runner, Dungeonman 3].

Me: Jackee, what the hell? Why don’t you taste like caramel anymore?

Jackee: I do not understand “caramel.”

Me: Cut it out. What I am doing wrong?

Jackee: What’s a “wrong”?

Me: …What?

Jackee: You are holding a glass MUG. Inside of it sit eight ounces of dark copper liquid. Steam rises from the top, swirling into nothingness. Exits are to the NORTH, SOUTH, and WEST.

Me: …
SIP TEA.

Jackee: You take a sip of the TEA and burn your TONGUE. Cursing like a sailor whose ship has chanced upon a Kraken, you bang your HEAD against the COUNTER in frustration at your stupidity. Exits are to the NORTH, SOUTH, and WEST.

Me: HEY!

Jackee: What’s a “HEY”?

Me: Grumble. LET TEA COOL.

Jackee: You sit aimlessly, watching your TEA while you wait for it to drop an appropriate amount in TEMPERATURE. Occasionally, you blow on it, though you are unsure of its effectiveness on the actual cooling process. Exits are to the NORTH, SOUTH, and WEST.

Me: SIP TEA.

Jackee: You take a sip of TEA. The mouthfeel is thin, but not quite watery. The TEA is flavorful – strong, with notes of smoke and pine and a light sweetness. Exits are to the NORTH, SOUTH, and WEST.

Me: POUR TEA OUT.

Jackee: Well, that was wasteful of you. Exits are to the NORTH, SOUTH, and WEST.

Me: It’s not my fault you don’t taste good to me anymore! It’s your fault you don’t taste like caramel!

Jackee: I do not understand that command.

Me: Sigh. READ STEEPSTER.

Jackee: You log into your Steepster account. New reviews have been posted. Please click here: http://steepster.com/aug3zimm/posts/23176. Exits are to the NORTH, SOUTH, and WEST.

Just to walk you through my thought process at this point, now I’m really thinking. When I had Jackee the first few times, I was drinking out of a different mug and I didn’t know that my utiliTEA was messing me up temperature wise. Even when it turned, I don’t want to say bad, but “not as good” on me, I didn’t know about my utiliTEA’s little issue for the majority of my experimentation. I’d get a cup of caramel maybe one time out of five, but the parameters wouldn’t match up so I was starting to think it was all in my head.

By the time I figured out the temperature problem, I barely had any Jackee Muntz left, so I tried a few cups on the stovetop and they rendered much of the same. I also tried it in a travel mug, and the smell thing didn’t seem to fix it either. I did discover that steep time didn’t appear to have too much of an effect, though, so long as I kept it somewhere around 3:30 to 4:30, it was pretty consistent.

Part of me must have still thought I could get it back to caramel. I think that I was partially re-invigorated after the discovery of my utiliTEA temperature issue, so I re-ordered Series 2, but the first cup of the first tin was not successful either. After reading Auggy’s review, something clicked though. A lot of it had to do with the fact that she had actually found the caramel and that gave me hope [and also reassurance that I hadn’t completely lost it]. But also I was looking at the temperature [205°] and thinking about maybe it was the shape of her travel mug. But my mug hadn’t been shaped all that differently from the one I like to use now. Except…it had been a bit larger. So maybe the tea to water ratios were a bit different… No, I DON’T KNOW WHY I DIDN’T THINK ABOUT THAT BEFORE.

Me: CHANGE MUG.

Jackee: Which mug would you like to change to? To see your current mugs, type INV.

Me: INV.

Jackee: BODUM MUG, CAFÉ MUG, BIG TEAL MUG NOT SUITABLE FOR DRINKING TEA, BORING STARBUCKS MUG.

This is the mug I was originally drinking tea out of, by the way – http://bit.ly/4Am3Xb – the bottom top one. Oops.

Me: CAFÉ MUG.

Jackee: You switched your BODUM MUG for your CAFÉ MUG.

Me: MAKE MORE TEA.

Jackee: You turn on your KETTLE and wait for the water to heat, measuring out a heaping teaspoon of TEA before dropping it into your INFUSER. In a few minutes, the WATER is boiling. Exits are to the NORTH, SOUTH, and WEST.

Me: LET WATER COOL 195°F.

Jackee: You wait impatiently while the water cools to the appropriate temperature. You really should learn to be a little more tolerant.

Me: SCREW YOU.

Jackee: I do not understand “SCREW.”

Me: MEASURE WATER 11 OZ.

Jackee: You measure out 11 ounces of WATER into a MEASURING CUP.

Me: POUR WATER.

Jackee: POUR WATER where?

Me: Into the mug, you idiot.

Jackee: I do not understand “idiot.”

Me: POUR WATER INTO MUG.

Jackee: You pour the WATER into your MUG.

Me: STEEP 3:15.

Jackee: Doesn’t that seem a bit short?

Me: Now you’re helpful?

Jackee: I do not understand the question.

Me: STEEP 3:45.

Jackee: You let the TEA steep for 3 MINUTES and 45 SECONDS, watching a couple of stupid VIDEOS in the the meantime before removing the INFUSER.

Me: SIP TEA.

Jackee: You burn your TONGUE and your IQ drops another few points. You take out a FLYSWATTER and slap yourself across the face. Exits are to the NORTH, SOUTH, and WEST.

Me: LET TEA COOL.

Jackee: You sit aimlessly, watching your TEA while you wait for it to drop an appropriate amount in TEMPERATURE. Occasionally, you blow on it, though you are unsure of its effectiveness on the actual cooling process. Exits are to the NORTH, SOUTH, and WEST.

Me: SIP TEA.

Jackee: The TEA feels heavy in your mouth. A soft note of pine hits your TONGUE, but then gently fades away. You are greeted with the taste of burnt sugar.

Me: SIP TEA.

Jackee: The TEA feels heavy in your mouth. A soft note of pine hits your TONGUE, but then gently fades away. You are greeted with the taste of burnt sugar.

Me: SIP TEA.

Jackee: The TEA feels heavy in your mouth. A soft note of pine hits your TONGUE, but then gently fades away. You are greeted with the taste of burnt sugar.

Me: SIP TEA.

Jackee: The taste of burnt sugar slowly melts into the background and a salty note enters the flavors sliding around on your TONGUE. Anxious, you hold the TEA a bit longer in your mouth and are greeted with the overwhelming taste of caramel.

Me: OH SWEET POSEIDON, THANK YOU!!!

Jackee: What is a “Poseidon”?

Me: I hate you.

Jackee: I do not understand that command.

Me: …
INV TEA.

Jackee: A FATAL ERROR HAS OCCURRED. NUMBER OF TEAS HAS EXCEEDED CAPACITY. PROGRAM WILL TERMINATE.

And that, ladies and gentlemen, is how I won Thursday.

Just a few more notes on the tea, because really that’s what all that mess up there was about, I did try steeping this at around 185 and didn’t quite get there in terms of the caramel, so I think that your temperature needs to be at least around 190°F, and could probably go up to 200°F but 205°F might be pushing it. [Auggy mentioned to me that her mug was cold and so it probably temperature dropped when it was in there somewhat significantly from the 205°F.] All this being said, all I can say definitively regarding the temperature is that it should be just below boiling if you hope to achieve this. It’s possible that we’re both just mad.

In regards to the tea:water ratio, I use one of these – http://bit.ly/5SpSvE – and when I measured it against a teaspoon last night it was like…1 1/4 tsp. Give or take a bit. I fill that up that spoon with just a teensy bit over, so somewhere thereabouts. The amount of water I put in the cup is somewhere between 11 and 12 oz, closer to 11.

All of this is assuming you a) have some Jackee Muntz on hand and b) want to try to replicate the caramel taste. I usually don’t get this specific in my logs, I know, but this has been bothering me for quite some time and I’m afraid that you’re seeing the aftermath of my GEEK OUT session here.

And thus endeth the really long tea log. I’m giving Jackee the ratings bump back to where he deserves to be, now that he has realized his potential for me again.

Squee!

I got my Samovar order in today and I am so glad this is back in my life. Like, seriously, so glad.

When I ordered this the first time, I went out on a limb and got a large tin because I love orange, I like ginger, and I trusted Samovar. It was a good thing, because this has become a tea I very often love to have to finish the day.

I put about a teaspoon and a half into 8 oz. of water, and I think I was using more water [probably closer to nine, nine and a half] before because it came out stronger. I didn’t mind it though, especially because I could actually feel the ginger warming my insides. If you’re not a huge fan of ginger, I’d recommend upping the water volume or steeping it for around 4 minutes instead [this is a tea with which I have done much experimentation] because it becomes less noticeable there.

Especially now, in the midst of winter, I’ll probably continue to brew this strong. Once it starts to warm up I’ll likely revert to something a little weaker. The main tastes that I get out of this are the citrus [mainly orange, maybe a hint of that extra puckery lemon, but just a hint] and the ginger. The licorice is barely noticeable to me, and really I think it’s just there to add depth to the sweetness.

It’s like what I think a glass of orange cider would be like. I’m a big fan. Giving it a small bump.

Auggy’s right. This smells like Pledge. I actually smelled it and thought Pine-Sol, but those two are pretty close. Also, maybe a little bit of cedar. It’s not really a scent that inspires confidence when what you’re smelling is something you’re about to ingest.

Luckily, she’s also right in that it doesn’t taste like that. This was a milder tea for me, so far as teas go. Somehow, though, the combination of the lemon and the chamomile reminded me of potpourri. Originally, they combined to make me think I was getting a woody kind of taste, but now I’m definitely thinking it’s closer to potpourri. Eh. I can see where the thought was. Maybe if the lemon was a little bit stronger, this wouldn’t taste so strange, but…eh.

Just…eh.

Lena sent me a bit of this tea, and I was in the mood for something fruity tonight so…ta da! Now give me a cookie. [Just kidding. Maybe. Do you have cookies?]

She had written down a 30 second steep time, was counting it in my head and I got a little distracted [not surprising] so it was probably closer to 45. Not that I’m sure that would have made a huge difference. It didn’t come out bitter or anything, thankfully.

The liquid smells distinctly of apple. To me it’s clearly apple of more of the granny-smith, green variety, but also…baked. Something about it makes me think of apple baked into a pie without the additional seasoning.

At first, the taste was very much like every green apple candy I’ve had without about 95% of the sweetness. As it cooled down, however, it began to fill out. I can’t place exactly what it was that happened, but I think that I got a little bit more of that sour taste [in a good way] and the sweetness balanced out really nicely with it. By the time I reached the bottom of my cup I was pretty satisfied.

I hardly got any sencha taste, though it could very well be that it just mingled very well with the apple taste. In looking at the leaves, I hadn’t been expecting a really bold, robust sencha taste [they’re a bit dark and a little twiggy] so I think that this is a case of the quality matching up pretty well with the flavor profile.

I didn’t give this another steep because it was pretty light to begin with, though in the future when I have a little more time I might give it a go just to play around. I definitely enjoyed this, but as we almost always have apples around here I usually just eat one when I’m craving one. So, I don’t think that this is going to be something I’ll order.

Last night, I was going to clean the tin that I was keeping this in and I discovered that I had some left. I’d been craving it all week and I thought it was gone. I wasn’t too peeved, because I ordered some more and it should be in soon, but I was ecstatic when I discovered that I had enough left for a cup.

I think I only have one of maeda-en’s herbal teas left to try from the sampler I got through Steepster Select, but so far this one is definitely my favorite. If teas had emotions, this one would be happy. It’s light and bubbly [as in friendly – the tea itself is not bubbly], but at the same time has an undertone of warmth to it. It’s like biting into a bright little amber gem. Not that that makes any sense.

To me, the flavor shouldn’t be tasty as it is – I think puffed wheat breakfast cereal with a sugar glaze and I think boring [but I like to do breakfast up big, so that may just be me]. There’s something about this that makes it crave-worthy, though. Even after I steeped this three times last night, I could still go for a cup. Or five.

I find it clear, sunny, refreshing, and comforting. In fact, I’m giving it a ratings bump. I really like it. Say hi, Soba-cha! [I really need to stop personifying my tea or I’m gonna start weirding myself out.]
flickr picture | http://bit.ly/82kHtE

My thoughts on this feel similar to Auggy’s, so since she sent me this tea I’m going to do a small homage to one of her prior logs. Here we go.

Hmm…Auggy sent this. Intriguing. Have I tried a CTC before?

…
…
…

I don’t think so. Hee, they look like coffee grounds.

Sniff, sniff.

I don’t smell anything.

Sniff, sniff!

…Dirt? Light dirt? What the what, am I congested?

Shrug. Pour.

I’m bored. Are they expanding? They’re not. Wait… Nevermind, nope. Is it done yet? How cold is it outside? 25? Poop. Is it done yet? I want to see Avatar again. I need to make cookies. Oh, laundry.

…
…
…

Finally!

Pull out infuser. Hold up the basket.

Sniff, sniff.

Okay, now I really don’t smell anything.

Hold up the cup.

Sniff, sniff.

…Keemun?

Tilt head. Furrow brow. Blow on liquid.

…

Sip.

OUCH!

Still not cool enough.

Checking the weather… Scanning the newspaper… Tapping my foot… Making a sandwich…mmm…ham.

What the world. Needs now. Is love. Sweet love. It’s the only thiiing. That there’s just. Too little of. Ah damn it, this is going to be stuck in my head all day, isn’t it?

Check the cup.

Better?

Sip.

Mm, okay. It’s kind of…sweet. But also malty. Bake-y? Oh. OH! Bitter. BITTER!!!

Okay. Hrm.

Tentative sip.

Swish, swish.

Okay. Kinda sweet at the front of the tongue. Sort of flat at the sides. Let’s try the back…

BITTER.

Gulp.

BITTER! Breathe. Oooh. That’s kind of sweet. Kind of…darjeeling sweet. Especially if I concentrate on the center of my tongue. I wonder what’ll happen if I move to the back…

BITTER!!!

Well, that was both predictable and stupid.

Is this the reeeeeal liiiiife? Is it just faaaantasssssy?

NO.

…
…
…

What the world. Needs now.

DAMN IT!

Sip.

Lather, rinse, repeat. I think I need to try this again, either with additives or a shorter steep time, or both, or whatever. It was interesting. I wouldn’t necessarily call it enjoyable. Overall, it reminded me of a keemun. A very near over-steeped keemun. I hope you enjoyed the rather censored journey into my brain. Thanks Auggy, I’ll be logging this again, I’m sure.

I decided to give this another go this morning, but I’ve got an intense-ish day of baking ahead of me and I need to make this short. [A true challenge.]

I can taste the pumpkin. That’s very nice. But in order to get to it I need to sift through the spices a little, because to me this is heavily spiced. Not spicy hot, but spiced like…pumpkin pie. So at least appropriate. For that they get points.

The one thing that I definitely don’t like about this is that it’s drying my mouth out rather noticeably. Also, it’s just a little on the bitter side. I probably should try this out as a proper latte, or maybe I’ll just top it off with some whipped cream. However, I think I’m going to hold off on it for a while as I suspect it’s making my stomach a bit upset.

Anyhow, it easily claims the crown for the best pumpkin flavored tea I’ve had, but I’m probably not going to reorder it. And now, I can finally put a rating on this. [Yes, that was bothering me.]

I realized that I haven’t logged this in a while, though I drink it pretty often, so here we are.

This has remained one of my favorite teas to go to sleep with for months. I find the combination of spices to be soothing and calming, so it does a pretty good job of helping my brain wind down when it’s time to go to bed. [And trust me, that’s really not an easy job.]

The rooibos flavor is definitely prevalent, so all you rooibos haters out might not be fans of this. The one thing that I can say for it is that this is one of the few rooibos teas I’ve had where the accompanying flavors actually work with the rooibos instead of just…being there [or in some cases working against it], so I don’t know. I don’t want to speak for other people’s tastes.

I’m nearly out of it, so it’s a good thing I stuck it in this last order at the last second. It’s also warming my insides a bit, which is a good thing because it is mother effing cold here right now. I mean, easily below freezing and I don’t even want to know what it’s like with the wind chill factored in. Rooibos is supposed to be good for that warming quality, and it’s working for me, so I’m just going to finish this cup off and then, you know, freeze to death. Farewell cruel world.

I’m being dramatique [and a wee bit pathetique], but it really is helping. All right. Night, Steepsterites.

I forgot to add this to my cupboard, but I just finished off the sample, so…mission accomplished?

This review is going to be totally lame, because it’s going to sound very similar to my soba-cha and mugi-cha tea logs. So, you know what? I’m just gonna cut out the middle-man:

soba-cha
- most of the sweetness
+ dark taste from mugi-cha
+ kinda…spicy? [peppery, maybe]
+ maybe a little nuttier
= dokudami.

I like it, but not as much as soba-cha or mugi-cha. So I guess it’s a good thing that my sample’s gone and I didn’t order it. Anyhow, it was interesting. And I’m writing this as I’m trying to listen to a podcast, which isn’t going over too well because I keep typing what they’re saying so I’m just gonna stop right now because if I keep going this isn’t going to make more sense.

Now I want soba-cha. Damn it.

Lovely, lovely Carolyn sent me some of this to try and I can see right off the bat why she likes it. It is a really delicious tea. The aroma is heavy and rich. The flavor profile evokes things that would make most dessert lovers drool – cocoa, caramel, honey.

It is smooth, and the flavors blend seamlessly. It is a tea that benefitted for me from sticking to the tip of the tongue and the back of the mouth, where the sweeter flavors came out to play. Sucking in air over it intensified the sweetness, but inhaling through my nose with a closed mouth evoked a kind of honeyed perfume taste that was extremely pleasant.

Dawn is a decadent tea, and yet it doesn’t leave you with a weighty feeling. Some teas are so luxurious that I feel like I should be in a food coma afterwards [tea coma?]. This certainly has that heavy, silky feeling in the mouth that I love, but something about the finish doesn’t feel heavy. The aftertaste is nice and light.

When I first saw the name of this tea, I didn’t really “get” it. I mean, it was a pretty name and all, but it seemed abstract to me. Now, I completely get it. From the dark leaves to the light amber liquid, to the heavy flavors lifting into airy sweetness. I don’t think I’ve ever had a tea that was a metaphor before [though the fact that I can find one in this may partially be because I have a tendency to overanalyze things]. However, it makes complete sense to me, as someone who has already seen more than a few sunrises in her quarter of a century already.

It reminds me distinctly of one of my last days before winter break at UVA, when a bunch of us trekked up a big hill to the nearby-ish observatory around midnight. We had no real agenda other than spending some time with each other before the semester ended and we all went to our respective corners of the country. Boys tackling one another and girls huddling in the chill. Climbing trees and drinking beer out of a pony-necked bottle. Telling stories and laughing, and waiting for the sun to rise together. We grew quieter as morning approached and eventually settled down in a section where the trees cleared enough to see part of the campus. All you could here was us breathing, and our breath streaked the air around us. The darkness began to lighten as the sun started to warm the horizon as the blushing, yellowed, amber tones bled across the sky. The almost heavy feeling in the atmosphere that seemed to settle in as the typical waking hour approached started to lift, and within a span of time that seemed to pass far too quickly we’d witnessed a natural phenomenon. It’s an act that’s occurred more times than I can count, practiced and perfected over the eons, but I hope that it never gets old.

For a tea to mimic such a simple, beautiful thing that is strongly tied into the memories of so many people is pretty powerful, and I can see why this would be a true delight to wake up with. So I must say thank you to Carolyn, and make sure that I order some more of this. And soon.

I don’t know if my expectations towards Yunnans have been making many of these unenjoyable for me, but…I’m getting ahead of myself here. [Though you can probably guess where this is going.]

I braved the cold earlier today with a couple of friends [I mean, serious cold, like wind whipping you, don’t even want to know what the temperature was with wind chill, lung stabbing cold] to check Teaism’s Dupont Circle location out. They brew it for you behind the counter, so I can’t list any parameters, but we made our way upstairs with three teapots full of tea and sat down to catch up.

Teaism is a neat space. It’s got kind of a rustic feeling to it, and they have a ton of teaware on display, which was cool. It’s a little cramped, which is pretty much par for the course for a lot of DC spaces, but when you’re coming in from the holy crap cold it reads as cozy. My friends got their Jasmine Pearl and their Silver Needle, which I won’t log because I only tried a few sips of each [relatively unimpressive]. I drank nearly the entire teapot of this, though, so I feel that I can speak to it somewhat solidly.

Reading the website’s rather short description of this, it sounds about right. It brewed into a bright amber finish. It had a sweet finish to it. And…really, that was about it.

There wasn’t a lot of depth to this tea. It was dark. It tasted a little malty. It was smooth. The sweetness was a dark kind of sweetness. Kind of like brown sugar, or maybe like yams. And that was really about it. Oh, it began to dry my mouth out a bit towards the end of the pot. That’s really it.

Considering that it was $3.85 for the pot, it made me kind of angry. I’m not usually one to notice that kind of stuff, but having a small kind of concept of how much margin they’re making off of something they’re calling high grade made me feel a bit blah. [Luckily, this was quickly righted when we went somewhere else and stuffed ourselves with Thai food.] It’s not that it was bad. I’m making it sound awful, I know. It was pleasant enough. It just wasn’t…eh. My lack of ability to be able to finish this log off shall have to be indicative of how I feel about this tea. Eh.

Blerg. Disappointing on so many levels, not the least of which that Williams Sonoma rarely lets me down.

First of all, let me say that this is essentially a powder. I opened the tin, expecting…you know, spices. This is a not that. It looks like sand. It looks granulated.

The smell of…whatever it is, kind of smells like chai. It definitely has that spiced quality to it. But overwhelmingly, and it took me a second to recognize this because I was NOT expecting it, it smells like rubber cement. I kid you not. It has that distinct, alcohol-like quality to it, and it does that sharp, not quite stinging thing to my nostrils that rubber cement does.

At this point, you’re probably wondering why I didn’t just stop here, but the guy in Williams Sonoma had spoken very well about it. I’m guessing that they’d had samples before in the store and he’d tried it. I know you’re thinking “retail spiel” etc., but I used to work retail and I can usually recognize when someone’s trying to sell you something just to make a sale. Plus, I don’t think that the people in Williams Sonoma are commissioned, but I could be wrong on that. Anyhow, I figured why not, since Angrboda had had some of David Rio’s stuff [from a completely different part of the collection] with some success.

So I, somewhat dubiously, measured some out and shook it into some milk that was heating in a saucepan. I didn’t bother adding any sugar, since it looked like it already had some in it.

Once the mixture had heated adequately [though some of the powder never quite dissolved, which was somewhat disconcerting], I poured it into a cup.

Ehm…

Okay. This kind of makes me think of what it would taste like if Swiss Miss did chai, except you don’t get any mini marshmallows. It’s synthetic tasting. And at the risk of sounding gross, the overall taste makes me think of that taste you get in your mouth before you brush your teeth in the morning. That, plus maybe some spices, plus sugar. If you dumped a teaspoon of sugar into your mouth first thing in the morning, you could probably replicate this pretty closely.

I’m already trying to strategize trying to return this to Williams Sonoma. It would be ridiculously pretentious, so I won’t do it, but a big part of me wants to bring in some of Samovar’s Masala Chai and make it for them, then say, “This? This is chai. This is spiced rubber cement. Can I return this please?” Likely I’ll just go in and ask nicely and hope they allow me to exchange it for something else. Though if I see the guy that recommended it to me, I’ll probably give him a few polite words on what I thought about it. Plus, he was kinda cute, so…you know. That doesn’t hurt either.

If that doesn’t explain why this rating is going to be abysmal, I don’t know what else will.

It’s been a while since I both logged and drank this tea, so now seems like a good time.

I’m pretty sure that I’ve had this since I logged the last [and first] time, but that’s part of the reason why I’m probably not going to reorder it. It’s not a remarkable tea. It’s good, don’t get me wrong, and I’m not going to change the rating on it, because it’s reading at a 75 still, but I think that part of the problem is that some of its notes remind me of Ancient Emerald Lily to me, and when a tea reminds me of a tea that is, in my mind, superior, well…I think you can figure the rest out.

So here’s the thing about Green Needles. For me, it starts out a little bitter. It’s almost sour, even. Eventually in the aftertaste, and even more so as it cools, it becomes sweeter. A nice, edging on juicy, grassy sweetness [this is what reminds me of Ancient Emerald Lily]. And then over time the bitter, sour part of the tea disappears. I should probably just wait until the tea cools enough for that to be gone, but I’m not patient enough.

The problem that I noticed, even when this becomes sweet, is that this has an almost scratchy texture to it. I’m not sure quite how to explain it. Kind of like that feeling your lungs get when it’s really [and I mean really cold outside. Or if you breathe in heavy fumes. It reminds me of this one time when I was at swim practice during the winter [we swam indoors] and there was a chemical spill. All of a sudden, we all got this kind of scratchy feeling in our throats and we all started coughing. Then we had to evacuate the building. [We got dressed first, of course. That would have been inhumane.] It was really cold outside. Our hair froze. It was grand. And actually, now that I type this, laughing gas. That funny feeling you get in your throat when you inhale laughing gas.

Anyway, I don’t know what causes that feeling. And I didn’t write about it last time, so I don’t know if I got it before. I’m guessing not. Maybe I won’t get it next time. I think I just need to drink this more often, even if it’s mainly because it means it’ll free up a little space on my tea shelf.