Its summer in California. The ground is dry, the grass is dead, the flowers are gone, but the fog has yet to burn off. The coastal redwoods are drinking something that probably tastes like… This. Woody, slightly astringent, without (as far as I can tell) any floral or honey notes.
afitting
4 tasting notes
A cup of tea brewed by an idiot, full of scent and smokiness signifying nothing. In this case, the idiot is me and the nothingness is a pot of under-steeped tea.
