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I had just a couple of teaspoons left this sample so I steeped it this morning. I’m a little sad to see it go, not only because the tea is nice but also because the sample tin was so lovely. If I wasn’t engaging in a war on clutter, I would have kept it, but I made myself let it go. A savory balm to a flaming throat.

If it seems like I’m only writing tasting notes when I’m sick, that’s probably because I’m only writing tasting notes when I’m sick. Because that’s when I’m mostly drinking tea these days. Though with the new year comes the resolutions, and one of them is to wean myself back off of Diet Coke and back onto tea as part of the diet improvement plan of 2014.

This was given to me as a gift from a colleague in Texas as part of a larger gift box that contained cocoa mix, steak rub, some coffee products, etc. and its gift box name is, cutely, “Tea is for Texas.” However, the company just lists it as Chamomile/Peppermint Plus. Chamomile is one of those herbal flavors that I wish I liked better than I do. Sometimes it sounds really good to me but more often than not, it’s disappointing when I drink it. There’s something going on with the flowers that hits me the wrong way most of the time. I think it’s that good chamomile has such a creamy consistency I expect it to be sweet but it often has an almost bitter note that messes my tasters up. Or maybe it’s just psychological because I associate it with being sick.

In any case, the good thing about this one is that the peppermint takes the edge off the chamomile leaving it more as an undercurrent than the main event. The aftertaste is minty rather than flowery, too. There’s still the occasional high flowery chamomile note, but it’s less problematic for me when it isn’t the only flavor.

It’s a good herbal for a sore throat. Not sure I’d seek out the flavor it I wasn’t feeling under the weather, though.

I’m under the weather — scratchy throat, stuffy head, achy, everything but the fever, cough and sniffles — and so I’m making therapeutic use of this one today and it is really hitting the spot. I took a quick look at my last tasting note quite a while ago and mentioned that I wasn’t getting lemon, which I think must have been mentioned in the official description. I’m still not getting it, really, but my out of practice palate is noticing something that could be confused with lemon. Just a touch of a fresh tartness. If the taste had a color, it would be yellow.

Finished up and decupboarded this little sample tonight. The evenings are getting colder and more inviting to the consumption of warm beverages, but I really can’t do caffeine in the evenings these days. It’s very much the same as my original note reflected on this tasting but as I have a touch of something that’s affecting my throat and mouth my taster isn’t dwelling on the woodiness tonight, which is a good thing.

Hmmm. I thought I’d written a note on this one, but maybe not. Anyway, I’m drinking the last of the tiny tin sampler tonight because… I don’t have a good reason. Turning over a new health leaf perhaps? (How many times have I said that?) I did work out today and had some tilapia and couscous for dinner, and there’s no Diet Coke within reach so it seem like the right thing to do.

In any case, as is probably obvious from some of my more recent tasting notes, I have become an unfan of untea. I’m drinking this one only because some of the fruity flavor samples were better as honeybush goes, and there wasn’t much left in the tin so I could wave goodbye to another tiny bit of house clutter.

Honeybush is somewhat more tolerable to me than rooibos because of the (duh) honey aspect, but it still has that woody thing going on that makes me feel like I’m inhaling the cedar chips from the bottom of a hamster cage. It’s best and highest use, as far as I am concerned, is to temper the sour and bitter in blends that have a high citrus or hibiscus quotient.

Tonight, however, it is serving another purpose. It’s making me feel virtuous, which can only be a good thing. It’s not a bad honeybush if you like honeybush, but as I don’t, for me it was just part of a misplaced buying frenzy a while back and I’m not sorry to see it go.

I’ve been wanting to go to a Samovar tea room for years, and since I live in the Bay Area it’s somewhat astonishing to me that I never made it to one before Friday. We took the kids to the SF Zoo and then went to the Zen Valley location for tea and dinner. It was chilly outside and the tea room was warm and peaceful. A lovely place to sit.

This is one of the two teas I had while there (on the menu it is called “Golden Phoenix”). It was served in a gaiwan, which I’ve never quite mastered, but I did my best. I was reminded of why I love oolongs and why I don’t drink them often. I had this after dinner and the fam was getting restless and wanted to leave, while I kept trying to squeeze in just one more infusion.

This is a richer flavored oolong than the Four Seasons, but still somewhat delicate, not as floral, more “oolongy” with a stone fruit and woodsy flavor. I wasn’t able to control my infusion times what with the distractions of being in company and my somewhat bumbling gaiwan style, but I found that I preferred short infusions to longer ones. The longer ones took a turn toward bitterness, while the shorter ones had a very subtle peachy note with a pleasantly sweet aftertaste. I can’t help but believe my experience would have been improved if I’d ordered this one before dinner when I had more time to savor how this changed from infusion to infustion.

Finishing and decupboarding this one today. It remains my favorite among the Kusmi chocolates, but the Kusmi chocolates remain not my favorite Kusmis as subtlety and chocolate do not go together in my book. Still, the spice blend is nice on a chilly day and it’s not that the chocolate isn’t there, it’s just a second-seat to the spices and too much of a second seat to be what I’m looking for in a chocolate tea.

I meant to record a tasting note for this a while back and I see I never did. I must have been distracted. Probably had some rejection slips pop into my mail box which sent me scurrying to find another market to send a story to. ;-)

I’ll have to go back to it and write a more in-the-moment reflection, but the good news is this is a memorable tea. Even without having tasted it in three months I remember a thick mouth feel and a really nice currenty raisiny flavor over a mild and tasty black tea base. More later, but I didn’t want to leave this one naked. It’s cold out there.

I bought this sample a while back as part of the experiment described here:

http://steepster.com/teas/harney-and-sons/6603-organic-rooibos

which I extended from rooibos to honeybush.

This sample has been following me to the point where I considered a restraining order. Every drawer I put it in, it manages to float to the top (in that uncanny way that tampons seem to float to the top of any handbag, so that when you open it up in the grocery line to get your wallet, it’s the first thing the attractive man next to you in line sees, amIright ladies?). If I put it in a cabinet, it falls out when I open the door. The only reason I didn’t dig a hole in the back yard to bury it in was because I feared a zombie version would rise from the grave and eat my brains while I slept. (Just kidding. I would never put any sort of tea in a hole in the backyard.) I decided to drink it to put an end to the madness. ;-)

The dry honeybush smells quite woody to me and in fact I can’t really make out anything but wood. Brewing, however, released a lovely honey smell that pretty much extinguished the wood. I got a cloudy, red brown liquor reminiscent of apple cider.

I was prepared to say I wouldn’t drink this again before I tried it, simply because I can think of so many other things I’d rather drink than plain honeybush, even if it is from Samovar. Now, though, I’m not so sure. As the description says, its absurdly smooth, and I can see this as a balm to a sore throat on a miserable rainy stay at home sick day, or a kind stroke to the mouth after a bad visit to the dentist. I do get cedar notes, though not in a sawdust, hamster cage way. More like the smell of a sweater after it has spent the summer in my cedar chest. And something I’m getting that isn’t even mentioned in the description is a nutty flavor, almost like a roasted chestnut aftertaste. It has a sweet little upswing to it, but not a strong taste of honey. There’s a slight earthy/metallic note which I suppose is what they mean by gravel that is evident in the aftertaste, and something that is somewhere between green and wood. It’s surprisingly complex for something I bought to better understand the flavor as a base for blends.

While at the rate I’m going I have enough tea to last me until I’m 100, I wouldn’t turn this down if offered. I can’t justify buying any, but mostly because I can’t justify buying ANY tea. I just spent the morning rearranging the tea that isn’t in cupboards in my kitchen or eight small shoe-box size plastic containers into tubs like this:

http://www.containerstore.com/shop?productId=10010964&N=&Nao=60&Ntt=stacking

Four of them. Insanity. Just insanity.

Finished and decupboarded this one today. I’ve said a fair amount about it already so I’ll just add an anecdote.

Yesterday morning I made this for my first morning beverage. I asked the BF to taste it, wondering whether he’d pick up on the flavor and fairly sure he wouldn’t because he’s the sort that puts Tabasco or BBQ sauce on everything so he can taste the food. He’s not at all about subtle when it comes to flavors.

Embarrassingly, he picked up on the chocolate, immediately. Is there a word for the opposite of vindication?