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If you’re expecting a more conventional, punch-you-in-the-face oolong, this’ll be a shocker. First steep is extremely light gold and delicate with the aroma of lilacs (Upton’s not kidding), hints of malt, hints of spice, and a crisp, clean mouthfeel. The flavor gets a bit breadier as it cools, taking on kind of a rye/caraway note.

Second steep is an unexpectedly major shift, with the lilac smell lingering but the spices coming very much to the forefront of taste. It’s like drinking a pepparkakor. Gingery, peppery, cinnamony.

As a couple other reviewers have mentioned, this just doesn’t do it for me (hot, anyway). I like my green tea to be green tea, and Boulder Blues is just totally out of balance if you’re expecting any green tea character to shine through. Sweet, overpowering rhubarb at the front, blueberry on the back. It’s an interesting one-two punch but definitely not my choice for a morning cup.

Rishi doesn’t exactly talk up Jade Cloud, describing it as “a lively, delicious everyday green tea.” It’s mellow, it’s bright, it’s very low on astringency, it’s more sweet-vegetal than spinach-vegetal. As one of Rishi’s increasingly few standard Chinese greens (and their only current non-Jasmine Chinese green), this one won’t scream for attention but it is indeed very drinkable as an everyday green tea. It’s satisfying without demanding attention or fuss. It’s the kind of tea you can drink while making breakfast and not feel bad about all the nuances you’re missing… because there aren’t many to miss. It’s the Dunkin Donuts coffee of tea: approachable, satisfying, but not overly complex.

First steep is slightly sweet, a little grassy, well-rounded and smooth. This would be a great introduction to green tea for a new drinker; it’s neither aggressively astringent nor aggressively vegetal (no seaweed or broccoli water here), but has a nice body and an assertive enough taste that nobody will bemoan your flavorless hot water.

Second steep is much weaker but still enjoyable; sweetly green, smooth, slightly water chestnutty, and with a hint of freshly-crushed blueberry in the finish.

Rishi doesn’t recommend a third steep and other drinkers here have noted failure, but something quite nice actually emerges with an extended steep time of 8 minutes or so. Certainly wouldn’t go for a fourth unless I were feeling particularly cheap, though.

Let’s be frank here: This is a cheap blended tea. The base oolong is a low-grade Formosa (cheap), the intermittent orange peels are aided by “flavoring” (cheap), and you’ll barely spend more than a tenner on 100 grams. Smell the stuff and it’s both orange and little bit TOO orange for the amount of peel blended in. Cheap, cheap, cheap.

But after enjoying three pots of tea with my current companion, I was ready for cheap, clean, and a little bright. Especially since I’d just shared a lapsang with him. Anything expensive and nuanced would be lost to the smoldering campfire that had taken up residence on my palate.

The orange oolong hit the spot. Bright, crisp, and clean. It’s not remotely nuanced, but it still beats the heck out of almost any of the bagged and broken options on a grocer’s shelf. It’s a perfect palate cleanser and an undemanding sipper. Even as my sense of taste returned, the flavors on display here could really be boiled down to “orange” and “snap pea”. Fresh, satisfying, simple. Resteep? Didn’t try. It probably wouldn’t stand up, and it’s cheap as hell anyway.

This would be a perfect breakfast tea for those lazy mornings. Don’t want to measure your tea? Don’t want to obsess about temperature? Want to be fuzzy with the steep time? Throw some water over some orange oolong and go to town. It’ll probably be pleasantly drinkable anyway.

What the what?! Had a hankering for Earl Grey while doing groceries and thought Lipton’s “long leaf” (not full leaf, mind you, but not fannings) option might hold the best promise. Oops. I should have read the package more carefully.

In addition to the strange and unmentioned addition of marigold flowers, the fine print on the front of the box proclaims “natural bergamot flavor and other natural flavors.” The ingredients list is even less revealing, listing only “natural flavors.” But I didn’t read any of that until after having my cuppa.

It was interesting cuppa that initially held promise. Not only was there bergamot flavor (albeit not much), but it felt fresh and bright, unlike many stale mass market Earl Greys I’ve had. The bite of the black tea seemed perfectly paired with the citrus. While too thin for a traditional Earl Grey, it at least tasted good. For a brief, fleeting instant, I thought I’d found boutique loose-leaf flavor at supermarket prices.

And then it all fell apart. As the tea began to cool, it took on the smell and taste of Froot Loops. Forging on, it moved through Froot Loops to Lemon Pledge, settling on “undrinkable” by the last few sips. Now, having finished some time ago, I’m left with the taste of the smell of Play-Doh lingering on my tongue.

Whirlwind psychedelic tour of your suburbanite childhood or grossly subpar supermarket tea? You decide.