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Before I drank “real” tea, my hot beverages of choice were brewed from a few varieties of herbal unsweetened teabags from Yogi tea. Lemon Ginger was among my top three favorites.

After sipping a Rishi tea with a similar flavor profile (Ginger Lime Rooibos), I revisited Yogi Lemon Ginger.

This was a wonderfully flavorful tea, far more punchy than the Rishi. It’s bright, spicy, and naturally sweet, since this blend also includes licorice root (and evidently a larger amount and/or more potent source). The peppermint leaf and black pepper, both near the bottom of the ingredient list, are barely there — I doubt I would have been able to place them without having read the label.

There are plenty of teas that captivate me now, but I’ll hang on to these old teabags, especially for those times when I’m sniffling or away from home.

Before I drank “real” tea, my hot beverages of choice were brewed from a few varieties of herbal unsweetened teabags from Yogi tea. Lemon Ginger was among my top three favorites. Translate that flavor combination to a loose leaf blend with a much higher price tag (theoretically correlating to freshness and quality), and it seems that my expectations grew with every minute of steep time.

And that was my lesson: watch those expectations. Whether positive (as in this example) or negative (such as dreading a family gathering), expectations get in the way of simply allowing something to be what it is.

Because really, this tea was fine. It was me that tried to shape it instead of appreciating it for what it is. No off flavors. Nothing overpowering. Lightly flavored: I first brewed 1 heaping tsp with 8oz of water, and then after seeing that Rishi recommended a full tbsp, brewed as directly. Seems like that would have made a big difference, but I didn’t notice much.

The ginger is apparent (though I wouldn’t consider it spicy by any means). There’s some lime; it’s neither tart nor fragrant. Its quietness surprises me, since West Indian Lime seems to be used predominantly as a fragrance, and since the ingredient list also contains lemongrass and lemon myrtle. But perhaps Rishi was going for a quiet, balanced blend. Another ingredient, licorice root, is also subtle in this cup — seemingly adding only the slightest sweetness and its flavor nearly undetectable even to this fan of tisanes containing licorice. I would not have known that the blend includes green rooibos, perhaps because I am new to rooibos. At the end I added a couple spoonfuls of simple syrup, and somewhat predictably I found that to increase my enjoyment.

Curious what my tastebuds would think of it now, the aforementioned Yogi Lemon Ginger became my next cup. Far more flavorful and entirely tasty — still quite a pleasant cup, despite a “best before” date of October 2014. It’s bright, spicy, and naturally sweet, since this blend also includes licorice root (and evidently a larger amount and/or more potent source). The peppermint leaf and black pepper, both near the bottom of the ingredient list, are barely there — I doubt I would have been able to place them without having read the label. There are plenty of teas that captivate me now, but I’ll hang on to these old teabags, especially for those times when I’m sniffling or away from home.

Yesterday and today I’ve brewed back-to-back sessions of two What-Cha Georgian teas — this one and Tamaz’s Tiny Tea Factory black tea. I could repeat for this tea nearly everything I wrote about the Tamaz’s, and will do so, while describing the slight differences I noticed:

The four What-Cha Georgian blacks that I’ve tasted demand nothing, yet offer plenty of subtlety to reward a closer look. I find this to be a delightful combination that continues to draw me to What-Cha’s Georgian teas.

Smooth. Gentle. No astringency or bitterness. A brightness, a nutty flavor, a bit of roastiness — and such balance that no one note is dominant; rather, awareness and observation reveal each.

Searching for the unique character of each of the Georgian teas is an enjoyable challenge for me, since I’ve found far more commonalities than differences. What I notice today is a fruitiness in this tea that I did not notice in the Tamaz’s, and a brightness that, while a characteristic of both, in the Natela’s I could describe as a lemon-like flavor without the slightest acidity. There’s some sweetness there too, but again, so well balanced that it calls no attention to itself.

Originally I started with a 3 min steep time (a minute shorter than the 4 min recommended) since black teas at full strength can be too harsh for me. But there is nothing harsh about this tea. It is flavorful (even at 3 min) without punching me in the face. I’ve also tried very long steeps, for a last steep of the session: even an hour or more! — still to great results.

Natela’s gives and gives – I’ve probably gone at least 7 in each of my two most recent sessions, keeping the time at 4 min per steep.

Like the three other Georgian black teas from What-Cha that I’ve tasted, Tamaz’s Tiny Tea Factory black tea demands nothing, yet offers plenty of subtlety to reward a closer look. I find this to be a delightful combination that continues to draw me to What-Cha’s Georgian teas.

Smooth. Gentle. No astringency or bitterness. A brightness, a nutty flavor, a bit of roastiness — and such balance that no one note is dominant; rather, awareness and observation reveal each.

This tea is enjoyable to me for many steeps – I’ve probably gone at least 7 in each of my two most recent sessions. No need to babysit, either, or worry if you get distracted or pulled away while your tea is steeping — shorter and longer (even very long) steeps were all wonderful with this forgiving tea.

When I was first getting into loose leaf tea, this was one of several Adagio puers that I sampled and then stashed. Without a palate for tea, much less puer, “eh” was my eloquent assessment.

Now, as I revisit this tea with a more developed palate and a little bit of puer experience, I find more to appreciate. The first brewed cup offers a pleasant, smooth aroma of earthiness, spice, minerality. I feel a slight cha qi in the first steep or two. Though the spices seem to sit on top of the tea more so than melt into it, the earthy puer provides an unexpected and enjoyable canvas. The tea is thin in body, with no astringency. I continue steeping as the spices fade, allowing the tea to come to the forefront. These steeps are just as pleasant as the earlier cups in which the spices were more assertive. The 5th or so infusion surprises me with the emergence of a delightful aroma quite like a cherry cough syrup. This translates to a slight sweetness and alcohol edge in the flavor also, though not identifiable as cherry. The sweetness and flavor of the tea fade over my last two steeps.

I’m revisiting this tea now after having set it aside for several months. I wasn’t feeling it then – perhaps because I didn’t love the Zhu Rong Yunnan Black base – and was curious what I would think of it now. I have struggled with the few Dian Hongs I’ve tried, which I found surprising since the typical descriptions of them – “cinnamon sweet with orange,” to use Verdant’s words as an example – sound so delightful. I will try more. Verdant’s is the only Zhu Rong I’ve tasted, in more than one tea (though all were blends, as I recall), and it didn’t appeal to me in other forms either.

I really want to like this tea, but I’m still not feeling it. My brain is making sense of it as a more sophisticated chai – a complex spiced tea with unexpected flavors to observe and discover – and wanting to appreciate it for being interesting even if not particularly enjoyable.

Overall, the flavor was muted, despite what I would consider a hefty amount of leaf/spice. I drastically increased the steep time (Verdant recommended 30 sec) to coax more flavor. Perhaps the bottom of the bag contained a disproportionate amount of heavier spice and zest bits, which I imagine would infuse more slowly than leaves.

Through each steep, a cinnamon-like spiciness remained the most prominent aroma. The first flavor to surface was a light smokiness, I assume from the Zhu Rong leaves. A citrus note in my first steep (208°, 30 sec) offered a bright orange flavor and in my second and third steeps (212° 1:30 and 208° 2:30) became moderately bitter, like some of the pith fell in along with the orange zest. In the fourth steep (also 208° 2:30) the bitterness mellowed, making way for a smoother cup, though still not an infusion that I found interesting or enjoyable.

Still, I would not consider this a “bad” tea, simply one that didn’t align with my palate in this moment. Perhaps on a different day I would thoroughly enjoy it – which wouldn’t be the first time my experiences with the same tea radically varied. Every experience is unique, there is no replicating, no consistency no matter how scientifically controlled the parameters are. Change is the only constant. This I find to be a magnificent lesson offered in every bit of our experience, and for me, quite succinctly through tea.

Adagio Caramel faced an uphill battle: I often find flavored teas more appealing in description than in practice. My tastebuds have jived with only a couple Adagio flavored teas, out of the many I’ve tried. And I am not a huge fan of caramel.

So it was a nice surprise to find this tea not only drinkable, but a quite pleasant cup – or two, actually, since one resteep held enough flavor to still be enjoyable. The dry leaf and steeped tea offered a sweet caramel aroma. Straight, the tea was a little shy of smooth. I drank it with a lightly sweetened soy milk. Those seeking a caramel flavored tea may want to give this a try.

With a swirl of soy milk, I found this tea to be smooth and rich and true to company’s description of molasses and caramel flavor and aroma. Straight, the bergamot’s bitterness was prominent; to my tastebuds the soy milk brought it into balance as a counternote to the tea’s sweeter flavors. I so enjoyed tasting this tea that I chose it several times over the course of a few days, which is unusual for me.

It is also unusual for me to enjoy a flavored tea as much as I enjoyed this one; I often find flavored teas more enticing in description than in tasting, even with the addition of cream and sugar. I tasted this tea with those enhancers, which was of course a tasty cup, but I found a bit of soy milk alone to be perfectly delicious; no sugar necessary. Each sachet yielded not just one but two flavorful cups.

Thank you to redditor Loxieloxx, who sent me 10 sachets of this tea!