takgoti

So…I am really very much at odds with this tea. Not knowing a ton about darjeelings, I’m not sure how this measures up in terms of what you typically get from them, but I think that I could really like it. Here’s what’s got me scratching my head.

Steep one was VERY bitter. I followed what they said on their website, which said five minutes in boiling water, so maybe toning one of those aspects down could get rid of it, but at the same time, the bitterness…I don’t know. It kind of began to remind me of wine at one point, and that was likely because I could really taste the grape.

It took me a while to get used to what “grape” can mean when I got older. As a younger me, I used to devour white and red grapes brought home from the grocery store. We used to freeze them during the summer and suck on them. I sometimes ate grape-flavored candy, or have a grape-flavored soda, or, though this was far from appealing – grape-flavored medicine.

Now, grape means much more to me than that one-dimensional [well, two-dimensional if you count red vs. white] grape taste I knew then. I’ve had dolma, though that technically involves leaves, and I’ve grown to love wine, so this tea fits in with my newly acquired idea of what grapes can taste like. In fact, it kind of reminds me of the flavor profile that dolma can take on.

What this REALLY makes me think of is this spray that I got from Caudalie. It reminds me of it a LOT. It’s in the taste, it’s in the smell. And I don’t mind it, but it could be a turn-off point for some people.
http://www.sephora.com/browse/product.jhtml;jsessionid=VBQGKJ50ET4RICV0KQNQIGQ?id=P6025&shouldPaginate=true&categoryId=4171 – the spray is awesome, just as an aside. Super refreshing. Makes me face all tingly.

The thing that I found very intriguing about this is that it sweetens a lot in the aftertaste. You drink it, and I discovered that letting it sit for a little bit allowed it to settle so the aftertaste would be stronger, and it’s kind of intense but afterwards? Complex, and dare I say delicious? I was really digging it. It reminded me a lot of wine at that point.

In the second steep, the bitterness was almost gone. I stopped there because I got distracted or…maybe it was time for dinner or something. I’m not sure. But I ended it with cup two. I’m definitely going to make some time for this over the weekend so I can play around with it any more.

I’m glad that I soldiered through the bitterness to discover how enjoyable it ended up being because otherwise I would have surely sent Auggy a ‘BLECH BLECH BLECH BLECH BLEEEEEEEEEECH’ email for sending it to me. It makes me think of warheads – you sit there and suffer through the bitter sour taste, but that makes the sweetness at the end just that much better.

Changing some things around could completely get rid of it, but…I don’t know. The more that I think about it the more I kinda like it.

Confession.

I’ve gotten so used to my tea experiences evolving to surprise me pleasantly that it’s a pretty huge shocker when something begins to lose its hold on me.

Does this mean that I think that Jackee Muntz sucks? Niet. It is, however, different.

I’ve mentioned before that black teas do weird things to my taste buds. Sometimes they taste one way, sometimes they taste another way. On one day I might think, “WHOA, raisins?!” but on the next it might be, “Ooooh, malty.”

When I was reading people’s thoughts on keemuns [not just this one, but others as well] and they kept talking about smoky notes and woody taste and whatever, I didn’t get it. I thought that maybe I was missing something, but I didn’t really care because to me, this tea tasted like I was sucking on a caramel. Caramel was what I tasted, and that was really all I tasted, and MAN was it good.

I have no idea what happened that changed this tea for me. It could be the water. It could be that I was doing something weird with the temperature gauge and I didn’t notice. It could be that I was hitting a very specific time with my steeping and there’s something off now. It could be that when I started drinking this I was having ongoing problems with a cold of fluctuating intensity and so my tongue was out of whack. Maybe I ruptured the space-time continuum and in the warping of time I was unwittingly residing in a magic place where this tea was phenomenal. Maybe a unicorn was pooping in my strainer. I have no idea, but now, I’m tasting what all of the rest of you are talking about and I’m not nearly as much in love as I was before.

That last sentence sounded really depressing.

So, anyhow, woody, check. Smoky, check. Kind of a hint of that caramel, but because it isn’t nearly as present as before it’s become disappointing. It’s got a hint of bitterness to it as well.

What I really need to branch out and try more keemuns to get a better gauge for what I think of this one. I should probably try that one from Adagio that people keep talking about. I need the playing field to level a little bit more before I can fairly judge poor Jackee, as he’s got a lot to live up to in his former self, but for now I’m dropping the rating.

I drank what I had left of this today, and while I’m not going to move the rating down because I still think this is pretty awesome, I definitely like it better hot than chilled.

To be fair, part of the reason that I like this so much is because it reminds me of that hot chocolate I was talking about before, and drinking this cold removes that comparison. And it’s not that this tastes bad cold or anything. It’s more that the sensations become very dissonant.

There’s that spiky heat from the chilis, clashing against the cool bite from the…well, the cold. And something about those two butting heads and not really melding results in a striking sensation that I don’t really find pleasant. Spiced chai cool, I find almost calming. That feeling was absent in this cup.

This is in no way going to deter me from continuing to drink this. I’ll just be doing drinking it hot.

I wanted something citrus-y today, but most of my citrus teas have a lime kind of flavoring to them and I wanted something more along the lines of orange. Then I remembered that Auggy had sent me this so…bam.

I popped open the bag and gave it a whiff while I read her tasting note. It smelled like orange sherbet, which is my favorite kind of ice cream, so I got a little excited. I was surprised to see that this sucker is supposed to be steeped in boiling water, but I took one for the team and did it anyway.

It didn’t scald anything, shockingly enough [or not, maybe, since Lupicia says to boil it], and it was actually pretty light in flavor. It definitely tasted like an orange. A sweet orange. Really, more of a synthetic orange. Like the kind of orange you’d taste in a Capri Sun, as opposed to something fresh squeezed. Maybe orange jello. It didn’t have any tartness to it, which I didn’t miss.

To be fair, this is comparing it to something like a navel orange, though, and not a mandarin which typically read much sweeter to me. However, it still doesn’t quite taste natural. The flavor is also light. Barely there. Like something you know is definitely there, but you have to grasp at.

In my mind, this is both good and bad. Bad, in that if you reach for this because you’re craving that flavor it probably won’t sate you. Good, because it keeps it from being…well, Capri Sun. This wouldn’t be an every day tea for me, and I think that the orange flavor being both so light and unnatural tasting is going to keep me from buying it. I’ll enjoy what I have left, though. In the meantime, I have a box of orange jello powder in the kitchen if I want that flavor. No Capri Sun, though. [I always hated the stabby pouch thing. Led to disaster too many times.]

I haven’t had a lot of darjeelings before. I think that I recall maybe having tried a couple, but for whatever reason I never revisited them and I can’t really remember what I thought.

I figured now was a good time to start trying them again because I got a couple from Auggy, so I brewed this one up today.

I think I like it? Unfortunately, I was trying to read a textbook at the same time, so my attention was a little divided. It definitely wasn’t unpleasant, but being at a disadvantage both because I couldn’t fully concentrate it and I don’t have a lot to compare it with, I can’t say anything definitively.

What I can say is that it was…I don’t know if light is the right word. It wasn’t light like a white tea, or even some greens. Maybe soft is more accurate. Yeah, that sounds right. I tasted a sweetness that wasn’t grassy, and it wasn’t sugary either… It almost tasted like the sweet taste I associate with green beans or peas, but…I don’t know, with more of a floral touch? I also, at times, got a woody taste and there was a bitterness to it when it began to cool. I steeped it a couple of times, and it didn’t change much from one to the next. I probably could have gone for more but then my stomach started telling me it was time to eat so when I got back I decided to move on to something more familiar since I was having difficulty focusing.

This probably isn’t helping you very much; I’m losing my trail of thought, too. But I wanted to get this down so that I would remember it when I inevitably try darjeeling again. It wasn’t unpleasant, but I definitely need to be drinking it when I can pay attention. If I remember what I’ve read about these correctly, they’re supposed to be relatively complex.

Shortbread.

That’s what I tasted on the first two steeps. Delicious, warm, buttery, with fruity notes and that distinct cookie flavor, shortbread.

I should mention that I’m now on steep five of this.

I know that I’m really digging an oolong if I get this far with it. Even though I know that oolongs are generally meant to unfold over steeps, if it’s really not gelling with me after steep two, I have a lot of trouble forging ahead [and often don’t]. Clearly, that’s not a problem with this one.

Auggy [thanks Auggy for this, by the way] and LENA F. mentioned tropical, candied, Juicy Fruit-ish flavors from this, and I didn’t really get that strongly until at or around steep three. The buttery component had become significantly weaker during the second steep, though I could still taste the shortbread, but by steep three it became notably more tropical in character. It shed its tartan and bagpipe and threw on a hat made of fruit and a coconut bikini.

Here in steep five, it’s light and fruity. I’m probably going to stop at this cup because it’s become significantly weaker for me. Similar to when you drop some fruit into water and let it sit for a while. It’s still enjoyable at this point, but in another cup I suspect the flavor will have dissipated beyond the point of notability.

This isn’t as complex as other oolongs I’ve had, and it is very, very different from other formosa oolongs that I’ve tried, but I imagine that I’ll want to have it around for, at the very least, those first three steeps.

This tea initiated my tea swap with Carolyn, because I’d been having such a crappy time of trying out Dragonwell. Let me say that if this is how Dragonwell is supposed to taste, either I was doing something horribly wrong before or this one is simply far superior. I’m going to have to revisit Tavalon’s Dragonwell and maybe, if I’m feeling brave, I’ll try Adagio’s again.

Carolyn mentioned in her review that this has a nutty scent to it, and that’s what I smell, too. The nutty aspect is absent in the taste for me, though.

Dragonwell Spring is light, smooth, clean and overall very refreshing. It’s got a sweet edge to it that seems chlorophyll-like, but it doesn’t read like a grassy tea to me. I can’t really relate the taste it has to…anything. Not anything that’s not pretty abstract anyway. So I’m going to try to explain what this tastes like to me.

It makes me think of those days during the summer when you come in from running around or doing yard work or whatever and you are HOT and DEHYDRATED. So you grab a glass and gulp down water like you’ve been in a desert for a week and holy H2O, Batman, water has never tasted SO GOOD before. It’s cool and quenching and it almost tastes sweet. It’s like in books, when they talk about characters arriving at springs and drinking from it. This tea makes me think of the way that they describe how that water tastes.

It also reminds me of the citron teas that I’ve been trying, but without the citron. It’s breezy and subtle, but at the same time very much present. Soothing and relaxing. I really like this tea. The aftertaste has a lingering, almost nectar-y sweetness to it. If I were drinking it blind, I’d almost think it was a white tea, but it’s got a smidge more oomph. I can see it becoming my default tea for when I want something simple, bright, and without a lot of flavor.

So thanks, Carolyn, for turning me around to Dragonwell. It makes me a little sad to think that I almost gave up on it because this is pretty fantastic. Lesson learned.

There’s a place in DC near the U Street Corridor called ACKC that is filled to the brim with chocolate. Their chocolate is pretty good, but the real reason I find myself trekking out there during the cold season is for their hot chocolate. It’s a good walk from the nearest metro station, which is a good thing because though I’ve never asked for the nutritional information [mostly out of fear] I’m positive it’s not the healthiest thing in the world. One of my favorite things to do when it’s chilly out is to get a cup of this stuff and wander up and down 14th street, because they have all kinds of fun, boutique-y shops over there.

They have a lot of different kinds of hot chocolate, but a quick front runner for me is what they call the Lucy, named after Lucille Ball because of her fiery personality. They add a little chipotle and cinnamon, and it gives it a nice kick that becomes especially enjoyable when the cold starts to bite at you.

Decaffeinated Chai Agni reminds me of the Lucy. It doesn’t taste so much like chocolate, which makes sense [though I do taste chocolate notes], but it is freaking good. It’s got that heat from the chili pepper and it marries well with the spices they use in the chai.

I made this like I make all of my chai – 2 cups water, 2 tbsp sugar, 2 tbsp chai, 2 cups milk. I let it sit for as long as I could until the smell filled the house and I couldn’t take the waiting any more. I also stuck half of it in the fridge, so I’ll likely log my thoughts on it chilled once I drink it. It’s different from my favorite – Samovar’s Masala Chai – but not in a bad way.

So, here are my final thoughts. First and foremost: the chili. It can’t be ignored and it’s both a blessing and a curse. I’d say that more often than not, I’m going to want it without, but there are definitely times that I am going to crave that kick. The chai base is solid and good enough to stand on its own in my opinion, but that spicy heat is what makes it special.

Secondly, the fact that it’s decaffeinated is rather brilliant. Chai is more of a mid-afternoon to evening fare for me, and caffeine will keep me up longer than I want it to if I don’t time things carefully. [Funny that Carolyn just posted that stuff in the forums that mentioned that Asians metabolize caffeine more slowly.]
http://steepster.com/discuss/89-what-is-your-tea-of-choice-for-night-time

This is not only more easily accessible than hot chocolate in DC, it’s very likely better for me and cheaper both by the cup and because I avoid spending money at stores. I’m not saying that it’s a complete replacement, as there is definitely something to be said for the experience of window shopping with a friend and hot chocolate in hand, but am I going to buy some so I have it at hand when I want it immediately? Absolutely.

I needed a break from brain work earlier today, so I decided to make some tea and beat up some people on Fat Princess. I got some chai cooking on the stove and brewed a cup of Colonille, sent to me by Auggy, to tide me over while I was waiting. And beating.

It could just be that I was distracted because I was too busy burninating on little cartoon people, but I couldn’t taste the chocolate that this is supposed to have in it. What I did taste was the vanilla. I’m going to have to try this alongside the Rooibos Bourbon Vanilla Carolyn traded me, because although one is rooibos and one is black, they remind me very much of one another.

What I can say about this is that it’s warm, inviting, and for me is equivalent to a tea hug. It’s something I want to revisit when I’ve got some place comfortable to sit with a blanket and a book. And maybe a fire. And maybe replace the book with a PS3 controller. And maybe whilst sitting there I’m destroying some cartoon lives on Fat Princess.

I’M SORRY! I’ve got asploding on the brain.

Seriously, though, going to need to drink this again when I can give it the attention it deserves. What I got out of it, though, I enjoyed.

Slowly but steadily, I am making my way through the teas I got through tea swaps. This is another Auggy tea, and it fit in rather snugly into my day. Fit my mood very well, and helped me work through some school stuff.

This tea is light in flavor, but that keeps it refreshing instead of cloying. I could see it being that kind of sickly sweet – like canned lemonade concentrate. But it’s on the other end of the spectrum – not at all syrupy. More like…essence of limeade. Eau de lime. I can definitely see what people are saying when they compare the overall taste to Fruity Pebbles, but don’t worry, it’s not like drinking everyone’s favorite Flintstone breakfast cereal. [I’d say Yabba Dabba Yum here, but I can’t make myself say it seriously, so I’ll just mock it by groaning at myself and leaving it in the brackets. GROAN.]

This tea has a fresh scent to it that carries through the taste. It reminds me of that citron green [I think that’s what it’s called] but it doesn’t do a suction vacuum number on my mouth. It also has a lighter hand on the flavoring.

I’d love to say that I could taste the oolong in it, but it eluded me. I’m beginning to think that the flavor of flavored oolongs is just going to always outweigh the oolong taste for me. Or maybe they just blend together too closely and I just can’t separate the flavors. Either way, I enjoy what this tea has going on when considering the whole package, so there’s a good chance I’ll be ordering it when I get around to ordering from Rishi.

It isn’t going to be a comfort tea for me. It’s one of those head-clearing, woo-sah, take a deep breath and begin anew teas. It reminds me of one of the lines in one of my favorite movies, Waitress: “Start fresh.” [Which has probably been said in other movies before it, but Waitress is such a good movie.] Considering all of the tea I drink, I don’t have a ton that slip into that category. And so, for me, this works.

All right, Steepster-verse. It’s late here on this slice of the planet and je suis fatigue. So fatigue, apparently, that I’m pulling out my high school French to express it to you. I’m not motivated to go to a Word document and copy out the accent aigu [not sure on spelling there] to properly spell the word fatigue, so just let’s just pretend.

I needed something to drink that wouldn’t keep me up for hours and so I decided to give this one that Auggy sent me a boiling hot bath. Upon typing that it sounds horribly painful.

Dry, this tea just looks like mini wood chips, but wet it takes on a nice, deep burgundy coloring. There’s also a couple of pieces of what I can only assume to be actual hazelnuts in the mix. Here, have a picture.
http://twitpic.com/ra5lx

See? Wet wood chips!

I can see why this reminds people of coffee. Hazelnut syrup or hazelnut flavored creamer are often used in coffee drinks, and the scent of it on its own is reminiscent of coffee beans.

Does it taste like coffee?

No.

Does it taste like hazelnuts?

Mmm…kinda?

This reminds me of the Almond Cookie I tried [that Auggy also sent me], in that the taste mainly blooms once it is downed. There’s a faint, and when I say faint, I mean really, really faint, sweetness floating in the liquid, but I’m not getting much else. Sometimes that sweetness takes on a nutty profile, and sometimes it tastes like when you dump a packet of sweetener into a cup of bad coffee.

I also don’t consistently get a lot of flavor in the aftertaste, which is a shame, because when I do it’s good. [This might sound weird, but I get that taste more consistently if I keep my mouth shut and breathe out my nose. Don’t know why.]

It reminds me a lot of wafers. That kind of dry, flavorless flavor. Also, biscotti. I had hazelnut biscotti once that tasted very bland and this reminds me of that. Actually, I’ve never had biscotti that really tasted any good. I don’t know why I keep trying it. If anyone knows where you can find good biscotti in the DC/MD/VA area let me know, because I want to know what all the fuss is about.

I know a lot of people don’t like rooibos, but I’ve found myself planted on this little island of people who do like it. That may be why I was expecting more. To me, rooibos has a fuller flavor to it, so I don’t know if it’s just because this is honeybush, of which this is the first I’ve tried, or because this tea is just made of weaksauce.

So…yeah. This unfortunately isn’t nearly robust enough to fill any coffee needs I may have still lurking about. It also isn’t flavorful enough to be something I would consider buying. But the smell is absolutely delicious and it isn’t so completely devoid of taste that it’s a pain to drink or anything.

Siskel and Ebert give it two thumbs sideways. WAY sideways!

After Auggy tried this one I decided I’d stop being lame and try it.

I don’t know why I was so intimidated with it. I think that it was because it looked so different from what I’ve gotten used to. I’ve had mugi-cha before in Korean BBQ restaurants and I’ve really enjoyed that, so it shouldn’t have seemed so foreign to me, but even I’m a little afraid to delve into how my brain works so I’m not going to dig any further.

Anyhow, there’s a nice picture of it that you can already see, but here’s a triptych of my little experience last night.

http://twitpic.com/r4s7f | http://twitpic.com/r4sfk | http://twitpic.com/r4sia

I’m going to second everything that Auggy said, which yeah, is lazy, but also saves me from being redundant.
http://steepster.com/teas/maeda-en/5594-soba-cha-buckwheat-tea

In a sentence: light, sweet-glazed puffed wheat cereal.

In a word: NOM.

I can easily see this being a flavor that I crave on certain days and would go down extremely well after large, heavy meals. Especially ones that involve marinated meat. Maybe that’s why they serve barley tea at Korean BBQ – because after consuming what must have been a pound of bul gogi it emerges as one of the only things I can drink without wanting to die.

I got sleepy before I think the tea did – I stopped at cup three and went to bed. I’ll have to start this earlier with what I’ve got left and see how many cups I can get through before it goes weak on me.

I’ll be ordering more of this one once I make my way through the rest of the maeda-en sampler I got. S’good.

I’ve spaced on logging this a few times, so I’m going to do it before I forget again.

This is another occasion where the Harney and Sons has managed to impress me on their flavoring prowess. What with the surge of pomegranate’s popularity in the tirade of fruits and berries being pushed at us for their antioxidant/detox/cancer-fighting/etc. properties, it’s no surprise that the presence of pomegranate in tea has also seen a significant nudge in use.

In the midst of all the pomegranate madness, I’ve gotten my hands on a few pomegranate teas, and this one is so far leading the race in terms of matching up to the true flavor of pomegranate. For the most part, the others tasted very much like, you guessed it, hibiscus. [With all the hibiscus knocking I’ve done, I should stress here that I don’t dislike it. It’s simply a case of too much of a decent thing becoming boring. Additionally, I don’t consider straight hibiscus to be an acceptable substitute for whatever touted fruit flavor I’m supposed to be getting out of a tea.]

So, here’s the thing about this tea. The pomegranate flavor is definitely welcome. The tea on the whole is very light, and I enjoy this to a certain extent, but I can’t taste the oolong. It could be because I don’t drink a ton of darker oolongs and am not fully accustomed to the flavor. However, it could also be that, light as it is, the pomegranate is drowning it out. Taking all of this into consideration, I’m still not sure where I stand with this one, even after making my way through almost all of the sample. I think that I find it mostly enjoyable, but maybe this is why flavored oolongs are considered “taboo” by some people.

I didn’t have this with Thanksgiving Dinner because we were drinking wine [Cakebread, super super good stuff], but I did have it beforehand. It’s probably a good thing because I was 9 months pregnant with a food baby afterwards and there’s no way I could have drank something that had that much flavor in it.

If there’s something I can give to Harney and Sons, it’s that when they do a flavored tea, it TASTES like what it’s supposed to be. I’ve become so accustomed to the good ol’ hibiscus stand-in when it comes to any fruit-type flavor that has a tartness to it that I was really surprised when I drank this the first time and it still continues to impress. I mean, stunt doubles are fine every now and then – utilized well and they can make a scene better – but I’m not paying to see the stunt double, I’m paying to see the actor.

So, cranberries. Check. And the orange that this is supposed to contain came out more this time round, though that’s probably because the last time I was really concentrating on this tea I was sick and couldn’t taste much. It’s not light, citrusy orange, it’s more like that flavor used in heavy liqueurs. From the rind, and dark.

The black tea is definitely present, though I can’t tell what kind of black tea it is. Upon revisiting the product description, it said that it’s a mix of Indian and Chinese black tea. That makes me feel slightly better about not being able to identify it.

I do enjoy this tea, but sometimes straight cranberry is just a little too tart for me and I need at least a hint of sweetness to fully enjoy it. The next time I drink this I’ll probably try it with sugar or honey.

I hope all of you had super, fantastic, fabulous Thanksgivings, or in some cases, super, fantastic, fabulous days. Either way, hugs to everyone!

I got some mail today from Auggy and I did a dork-out dance by the mailbox. The first thing I did upon reaching my desk was find the almond cookie and get it started while I caught up on what I missed earlier today.

It’s raining again today, which has painted a gloomy background for the day’s activities. This is going to be a tea that begs me to be imbibed during any form of precipitation, because it is super comforting. But also, to be imbibed on most days.

I mean, let’s begin with the smell, shall we?

OM NOM NOM NOM NOM NOM NOM NOM NOM.

I think that pretty much sums it up, but in the interest of fairness to the tea, I’ll elaborate a bit more. It smells like almonds. And cookies. Almonds and cookies. Maybe even almond cookies? [I know, OF ALL THE COINCIDENCES!] But also, sometimes mint and chocolate. I’m not sure where I’m getting that from; maybe it’s the plastic bag. Or maybe it’s because I sat there smelling it for minutes while I waited for the water to heat and the tea to steep and for my internet to stop re-enacting Chariots of Fire’s slow motion sequence and function normally.

The tea. Again.

OM NOM NOM NOM NOM NOM NOM NOM NOM NOM NOM NOM.

That’s like, three more noms.

The magic of this tea happens for me in the aftertaste. Letting it sit on the tongue brings out that dry spiciness that cinnamon gives you, and there’s not much else that I derive from it from the actual liquid taste itself. But after the first swallow, I was like, “Oooooh! There it is. COOKIES!”

The almond taste is there, and I get a little puff of the cinnamon. The base is reminiscent of a sugar cookie, but not quite as sweet. [Hah, clearly trying to avoid the now infamous “bake-y” here.] Sometimes I tasted almond croissant, too. All in all, there is no way that trying this isn’t going to result in an order.

Because, really, if a tea can trick me into thinking that I just ate a cookie, I’m all for it.

Woke up this morning and my stomach was NOT happy with me. Let me tell you, waking up to a big, “WAKE UP, LADY! Why you gotta eat spicy food? You KNOW I don’t like spicy food! And when I’m not happy, you’re no- what? No, I don’t wanna HEAR none-a that mess! Don’t eat spicy food! Just don’t eat- SHUT UP AND LISTEN TO ME, JUST DON’T EAT IT!”…

Right, then. Mint tea it is.

I like red licorice, but black licorice is not on my list of things I like to chew on. [This seems random, but walk with me for a second here.] As a child, a friend’s mother kept a bowl of black licorice jelly beans in foyer and I tried one once and spit it out without telling anyone. It ricocheted somewhere into their hall closet and I couldn’t find it. So after the great jelly bean incident of 1991, I would BOOK IT through the foyer, terrified that they were going to discover it and ban me from ever playing with my friend again. Well, that, and I was kind of afraid that someone would offer me a jelly bean.

My palate has since matured a bit, and I don’t have quite the same aversion to that black licorice taste, though I certainly won’t seek it out. [And if you were to offer me a black jelly bean I would likely politely decline.] Because fennel has that kind of licorice-y taste to it, I typically don’t like it when it is overpowering in a dish or what have you. The fact that it is bearable, even PLEASANT to me in this tea is speaking tomes to the power of a good blend.

Moorish mint a tea that I like to keep moving, either giving it a little swish in my mouth or drinking it quickly. There is a LOT going on in the aftertaste, and if I let the liquid sit on my tongue for too long the bite from the black pepper becomes overwhelming. The various components combine quite nicely, and the mint makes the overall effect refreshing.

Occasionally, I think I’m tasting chocolate in the background. Actually, I have moments where it tastes like Thin Mint. I mean, it’s not nearly as sweet and if I think about it too hard I lose it. And being honest, if what I were tasting were replicated into an actual cookie I’d probably laugh at you and hand you a five and tell you to go get me some real cookies. But as a tea, it works. It definitely works.

And it’s working on my stomach right now. I’m pairing it with the Lenka album and it’s made for a nice transition into afternoon. Time to go get some stuff done.

It’s official. Formosan oolongs are currently my favorite type of oolongs.

This is another Carolyn tea, and I’ve been drinking it pretty much all day. Haven’t bothered to refill the infuser with leaves, just been Energizer Bunnying it since at least lunch time. When I finally got around to checking the recommended business it said 180-195, but I definitely boiled the water. It didn’t seem to have an effect on it. I also stopped counting how many cups I’ve had but I’d say five easy, likely more.

It’s creamy, and it does indeed taste of milk. It’s so close at times, that I could actually fool myself into thinking that it IS milk, but the aftertaste gives it away. Sometimes it’s a little more floral and has a shy sweetness in the aftertaste, sometimes it’s more buttery and rich tasting. Occasionally there’s a hint of that vegetal, almost spinachy smell the leaves take on when they’re wet and sometimes I taste bread. Whatever the tea is deciding to do, I’m enjoying it all, so this is a definite win.

This is one of those kinds of teas that I like to watch unfurl. Put in a teaspoon or so and all of a sudden my entire infuser’s full of leaves. They brew into a color somewhere between bright yellow and copper and the tea is smooth in the mouth. There’s just a teeny teeny bit of dryness at the finish, but nothing that I can’t handle. By no means one of those teas that leaves your mouth completely devoid of moisture.

I’m liking it a lot better when it’s hot to warm [this is when having a double walled mug is crazy fantastic]. Once I go through what Carolyn sent me I’ll be ordering this one.

And now, for the first time in weeks, I’m going to bed at a decent hour. I just powered through 45 physics problems and some java programming and my brain is screaming at me for mercy. We’re finally rounding the corner towards the home stretch for the semester, and my motivation is surfacing again. Were it not for this tea, I can guarantee that I would have fallen asleep on the floor, because that’s what I did yesterday. And maybe the day before. I’m not telling.

THANKS CAROLYN.

This is going to be a very trying day for me as I am having a lot of trouble getting my fingers to communicate correctly with my brain. Case in point [though you can’t see what just happened and will simply have to take my word for it]: I just had to delete and re-type the word “communicate” seven times. And three more just now.

If this is indicative of how the rest of the typing I’m going to be doing to get schoolwork done today, maybe I should just cut to the chase and start crying now.

Luckily, during some of life’s gloomier and more frustrating sequences, we have tea. And I picked a good one this morning.

I can see this becoming a staple.

Carolyn mentioned in her review that she caught a flash of midori when she drank this and that is exactly what I parse out. For me it’s more present in the smell than in the taste, but that’s perfectly fine by me. Anyone who’s ever had midori knows how sweet it is, [and for those of you who don’t know…er, it’s pretty sweet] and so to have it take over the taste in this tea would be cloying.

Don’t get me wrong, midori is actually my absolutely favorite liqueur. Midori sours are my go-to drink when I’m out because I’m a girly drinker and I don’t like to taste the alcohol in what I’m sipping on. But, that’s a different class of drinking. When I’m drinking tea I don’t want to think that I’m drinking alcoholic kool-aid.

Sometimes when I sniff this as the scent rises out of the cup, I think I’m smelling apple cider, which is also something I enjoy quite a bit. The scent of the leaves themselves has little hints of both the melon and the cider, but also something else I can’t place. As a single entity, it smells a little bit like candy.

The tea is light, but has the softness in its flavor that honeydew melon, or perhaps cantaloupe contribute. I find it subtle and calming. There are likely to be aspects of it that I’m not picking up presently, but I’m too busy typing and retyping characters to be too bothered at the present. I expect I’ll be spending some quality time with it in the future.

This tasting note has been brought to you by Carolyn, the letter K, and Mavis Beacon.

I stuck some of this in the fridge the other day and I’m drinking it now.

I’ve said that I don’t what I did before I found tea. That’s made even more true when I factor in chai.

Smooth and creamy, when it first hits my tongue it almost tastes like chocolate milk. Then the spices make themselves present and it switches gears from “ahhhhh,” to “ooooooh!” Add to that the satisfaction of having made it yourself, and you’ve got yourself a nice cup of Masala Crack.

This tea, along with Samovar’s Ryokucha, is what propelled me to power through my Calculus test this morning. The dregs of the caffeine’s effects are also what is propelling me through packaging up some stuff for a tea swap.

This is one of the best senchas I’ve ever had. It hits all the points I’ve come to associate with one that is well-balanced – vegetal, approaching roasty, with a sweet chlorophyll taste from the grassy side that at sometimes reminds me of hay, a hint of brine that keeps it from feeling like you’re sucking on a string bean, and it teases just enough at bitterness to keep it interesting.

The nice thing about this sencha is that the flavor is nice and full, but I don’t find it hard-hitting, if that makes sense. It’s not like it’s being pushed on to you, or bowling you over. It just kind of sighs into your mouth and blankets your tongue. The push and the pull of all the different flavors as they swirl and meet and break is fantastic.

The tea’s got a nice, smooth texture to it. Holding the bag, it’s weighty. Like you’re holding something luxurious and of substance. The actual leaves are crumbled, as is characteristic of sencha, but they feel rich, have an almost silky quality. As a liquid, it brews into a nice, bright, lime-y color. Finishing the cup leaves a residue that looks like matcha. I’m not sure if it qualifies as that, but it sure looks like it.

Maeda-en recommends that you take care on the water temperature, and I recommend that you heed their advice. This tea has a delicacy to it and unless you’re seeking bitterness it’ll hit you if you’re not careful. I’ve also been brewing this pretty short. On a day when I think I can take the rollercoaster of changes greens can undergo when you mess with their parameters, I’ll play around with it some more, but I’m pretty happy where I’m at for now.

If you want to get a good baseline for sencha, I’d highly recommend trying this one out. Also, if you’ve tried a genmaicha but couldn’t get on board with the rice they add to it, this might be your bag. It’s fantastic for days that require prolonged productivity, or when you find yourself craving a nice, solid green tea.

Scarlet Sable is a name that is completely fitting to this tea. It is definitely not something that everyone is going to like, and on most days it’s not going to be something that I instinctively grab. However, if you’re looking for something different with some complexity to it, she might be the lady for you.

The rooibos in the blend feels like a base flavor to me, while the black tea that they use wraps smoky tendrils around its core. The smoky taste is very reminiscent of lapsang souchong. Even as I type this it doesn’t sound very appetizing, but it’s not bad. It’s one of those flavor combinations that makes me pause momentarily and go, “Huh.”

The part that makes it really interesting to me, though, is the supporting cast in Scarlet Sable. There is a light, citrusy note that almost seems to pulse gently through it all. At times, lychee briefly presents itself in soft explosions. Little poofs of flavor that hit at the back of the tongue to remind you that it’s in there. Almost like it’s trying to escape.

It’s an extremely interesting tea, but again, not something for everyday drinking. If you don’t like smoky teas, avoid it, because that aspect is very prominent. Good for centering the mind and bringing things back into focus.

This isn’t a bad tea by any means. It definitely tastes like sencha. Buuut, it’s not as full flavored as other senchas I’ve had.

Those distinctly grassy, vegetal notes are present. They’re just…not quite as opaque. Almost like they’re slightly translucent? Someone needs to adjust this tea’s alpha channel. [Apologies, horrid photoshop reference there.]

To be fair, and maybe it’s because I’ve been drinking a lot more black tea, most green tea has a sense of translucence to it. The flavor in greens is always absolutely present, but most have a kind of watery quality to them. Which makes sense in a way, I guess. That characteristic is just more present in this tea.

All of this leads me to conclude that this might be a very good starter tea for someone who is looking to get into greens. However, as someone who has grown to acquire the taste of sencha it just isn’t cutting it. It’d do in a pinch, though.

Lovely.

I am sitting here wrapped in a throw, listening to Sara Bareilles and Ingrid Michaelson’s Winter Song [awesome track if you haven’t heard it, you should give it a listen – http://is.gd/4Z7n2 ], and haven’t felt this rested and comfortable in a while. This is going to be the perfect precursor to the amount of work I need to get done tonight.

I put the temperature a bit lower than I typically brew an earl grey because this contains white tea and I was greeted with a pleasant cup.

The bergamot skims lightly across the flavoring of this tea. Not at all high-handed, but strong enough to be sating. The effect is a nice, citrus taste with a freshness to it; somewhat like the way the air gets a cleaner feeling here when the temperatures get chilly. In the scent, I also get hints of a woody, earthy scent, which I found surprising. It’s not all that present in the taste, but I thought I might have caught wind of it in the baser notes at times. Very subtle.

I’m reminded of the sensation I get after the first snow of the year, before everything gets all mucked up by the passing cars and inhabitants of the world. When you wake up and the light coming through the shades has that diffused brightness that says there’s something beautiful waiting on the other side. You hastily pull up the covering to be greeted by something wonderful. Snow always makes me feel like I’m a kid again, though I have grown to hate driving in it as an adult. Everything seems just a little bit more magical when it snows, and being able to rekindle that feeling in a cup of tea is pretty magical in and of itself.

The flavor was definitely better for me in the warm to hot range. It lost a bit as it cooled. For a first try, I am enjoying this enough to seriously consider buying a tin. Bergamot is something that I do like, but not enough to drink every day. That being said, this has been a very good cup.

WHAT THE WHAT?

Clearly, I chose to revisit Steepster at both the wrong and the right time.

On the one hand, I’m so absolutely STOKED about the new update. On the other hand, between the discussion board and the live feed and the tea cupboard and the fact that I really need to rescale all of my ratings, I. Can’t. Seem. To. Log. Off.

To the review, Ryokucha is back in my life and I feel complete again.

I got my Samovar package in the mail the other day and I nearly wept for joy. I have come to rely quite heavily on this stuff in the morning. It’s got a sense of SUSTENANCE, you know? Combine it with oatmeal and I can chug along for hours. Especially because the amount of caffeine in this is balanced absolutely perfectly for those mornings when I know I need to get some serious crap churned out.

The taste is roasty and full. Occasionally there are hints of brine in the taste, which are balanced by moments of sweetness in the aftertaste. The matcha is what I think is mainly responsible for the brilliant green this steeps into, and aside from being responsible for the nice caffeine boost it gives it adds a nice sense of texture. I think it adds to the substantialness the tea has. [You get most of the matcha at the end of the drink, of course.] I’ve also somewhat recently become more accommodated to sencha and I must say that I think the sencha they use in this is damn good.

And the smell? I actually started off almost being turned off by the smell. Which eased into being apathetic to it. And now, I love it. Mornings when I don’t get a little Ryokucha feel empty, which probably means I’m addicted. You heard it here first.

I just want to add two things to this.

1. Samovar’s running some sales on their website right now for selected black and white teas. Also, the code cozytea will get you 20% off through December 1st.

2. Jillian and Angrboda [and any other non-US Steepsterites], I sent Samovar an email that included an inquiry about their international shipping prices and let them know that the shipping fees are deterring you folks from trying them. I have no clue if anything will come of it, but one can hope!