1.5 tsp for 300mL water @100C, steeped 4 minutes, drunk bare.
Some days, only Assam will do. My body craves Assam, craves something in those leaves that’s not in Darjeeling, let alone any non-India tea. No idea what that is. I still love Yunnans and Darjeelings and Himalayans and Keemuns and oolongs, but nothing can replace a good Assam. Steepsterite Claire recently commented she likes for her black teas to not only wear Doc Martens but kick her with them; a good Assam does that.
This Assam Gingia is a second flush and quite strong. Notes of malt, of course, but not suck-your-mouth-dry malt, molasses, honey, freshly baked bread,and sunshine. No bitterness. On a winter day, with yet more snow coming down, it’s a dire necessity. It’s TEA.
1.5 tsp for 250mL water @ 98C. (Slightly obsessed with making black tea just off the boil lately.) Steeped four minutes. Drunk bare.
I love a good Assam. I also love a good Darjeeling and a good milk oolong and a good caravan and a good jasmine green … because these teas are unmistakable.
I’ve said before that I favour the Kopili and Gingia estates for Assams. Damn Fine’s Captain Assam also blissed me out, and I am dying to try their new Tiger Assam. George Orwell in his famous essay ‘A Nice Cup of Tea’ talks about Indian black tea in particular making you feel stronger and braver. He must have meant Assam.
Gingia doesn’t have the raisin notes that some Assams do, but it does remind me a bit of bread and roses, as I’ve nattered about before. The liquor is dark but clear. Agreeably malty — could get assertively so is steeped over 5 minutes — with some molasses notes in the aroma. It finishes sweet, with a bit of Assam pucker. Medium to heavy body, with a creaminess in the mouthfeel that makes for a pretty damn sumptuous cup of tea. I rarely add milk to tea, but this Assam would handily stand up to milk. Dependable and superb.