It’s official: I survived the historic move of 2014. God (or reasonable facsimile), what a nightmare! I lived in a three-bedroom apartment for ten years and just moved into a loft split into two smaller rooms, with shared living space, kitchen, and bathroom, all on the second floor (below my private) space. This necessitated a major purge of massive amounts of furniture and accumulated nonsense. So now my remaining possessions are in total disarray—some here, some in storage, a lot sold or donated.
The first pot in this new chapter of my life is … drum roll … Adagio Leo. I made a large pot, using my “family-sized” tetsubin, because I have no energy, so I figured that I’d use the pot with the deepest and widest infusion basket, and then I’d have tea for the afternoon and be ready for a dinner-time caffeine-free infusion later.
I really like this tea, and looking at the fully unfurled leaves mingling together with the plumped-up chamomile buds definitely enhanced the experience. The oolong leaves expand so impressively! The best part about this blend for me, a person with severe oolong sensitivity, is that it represents a rare exception to the rule: an oolong which I truly enjoy!
The many elements of this blend together to produce a rich orange-gold liquor while still being identifiable as individual flavors. My tin was faulty (the lid came apart into two pieces), so I transferred the remaining dried tea into a small glass clamp jar, and now I’m thinking that I should do the same with the other Adagio Zodiac blends in my cupboard, as they are all visually appealing—more so than the decorated tins! I realize that exposure to light can degrade the tea, but I’ll keep them in the dark except when I’m about to brew a pot.
This large tetsubin is perfect for oolong. The wet leaves are so big that they fill the entire basket, but unlike smaller infusion baskets (which I do not use because they seem so oppressive and cramped), this one allows the leaves to achieve their full potential while also making clean-up a lot easier.
I cannot find my thermometer—perhaps I packed it with the postal scale? who knows… Is it in storage or amidst all of this chaos? Who knows…