3 Tasting Notes
Smells exactly like a lemon lolly. From the smell, I was expecting a sweet, lemon-y flavour which would be okay to drink. First sip, exactly as it smelt, sweet aftertaste, fake lemonness, drinkable but not something I would get if it wasn’t free from the dining room. It leaves my mouth with a cheap tea aftertang, like I can taste whatever they bagged it on.
Maybe it would be okay if I were really sick, or with a bag of something else (I’m thinking peppermint), but for now it’s just ‘meh, I’ll drink it’.
This smells exactly like burning eucalyptus on a guides campfire as a child, a warm, smokey scent mingled with slightly burnt food and memories. It makes me happy, and nostalgic, despite never having smelt it before.
The first sip; a hint of smoke, enough to tickle at the very backs of my nostrils and fill my mouth with faint tastes of something very slightly floral. This is a tea I could happily drink for the rest of my life.
I keep breathing it in, filling my tiny dorm room with smells and memories of being outside. Russian Caravan reduces me to a seven year old, wrapped in my sleeping bag, fishing burnt marshmallows from the embers. It tastes like a part of my childhood I had forgotten.
The second sip is less perfect, the taste of smoke I expected to grow is lessened by my expectation. I take a third, trying not to expect smoke, and a whole new world lights up for me. Yes, there is still the smoke, wrapping the furthest corners of my mind, but now the woody undertones are more present, I feel like I’ve been transported into the middle of a forest, sitting by a campfire sharing old stories and wrapped in a patchwork quilt.
This is my comfort tea, my escape from the world. Each taste welcomes something new, but it is always something I want to sip again.
If this is what bagged tea can be, then I can only wonder what true tea could taste like.
Colour: Reddish Brown
Drunk black, no additives
Flavors: Tobacco, Wood