Er. Yeah. About that.
I have a confession to make: I am a sucker when it comes to marketing strategies. Mention pastries! Mention France! Mention potential swooning and hearts-for-eyes (or at least imply)! I’m basically a goner if/when all that happens. Which is how I ended up blindly buying this tea in my first Tealish order. Woo boy. Granted, the first time around, I don’t think I was being very fair. My sister, brother-in-law and I had gone for a late afternoon ice cream run, and when I came home, I brewed up some of this tea, hoping for a continuation in decadence.
It might have been the dairy in my body already. It might have been the heat. It might have been any number of factors. But my throat basically decided to do its best Gandalf impression and threw up its arms, all “YOU SHALL NOT PASS!” I am not exaggerating when I say I got through that cup by pinching my nose, closing my eyes and taking large, quick gulps. And I still gagged every time.
Later outings with this tea: on some level, my body wanted to like it. There’s a pleasing sort of warmth to it as long I didn’t focus too much on the heavier, savoury spices. But God, they sit on the tip of the sip and just dangle their legs, all “Hey! Hey! Hey! We’re here! Do you see us?” And then I get all conflicted because this tea would be SO GOOD, or at the very least, MEDIOCRE AND DRINKABLE, if it wasn’t so much like a mouth punch. I kept drinking this tea in the hope that it would get better. It did not. When I finished my stash, I breathed a sigh of relief. Sweet, sweet relief.