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I’ve always been an “eh, chamomile always tastes like chamomile no matter what” drinker, but Harney’s variety tasted a little less musty than others I’ve encountered. Might’ve helped ease some kinks out of the back of my neck on a stress-uous (rhymes with “tempestuous”) afternoon.

Whenever I open a tea (sample, in this case) for the first time and see a mix of blonde and brunette leaves, whether they be twisted, straight, or curled (also in this case) it immediately makes me smile because those are the leaves that most often yield my favorite tea profile in the whole world—wheat bread and chocolate.

Yunnans are often noted to have a little pepper in the mix, too—if there was in Adagio’s take on Yunnan, I didn’t notice it. Didn’t mar my morning cuppa at all. Based on the age of the reviews I’m seeing, this has been one of Adagio’s consistently quality offerings for years.

One of the reasons I love Basilur is that their fruit is fruity without a hint of hibiscus tang. Frosty Afternoon (I still think it’s a funny name for these ingredients) is beautifully juicy and citrusy, both hot and iced. The orange side of the flavor balance is redolent of citrus peel. (That’s the fanciest word I’ve used in a week.) The passionfruit side, well, I wouldn’t recognize a passionfruit if you threw one at me, so I can’t vouch for its accuracy, but it hits some high-end citrusy notes very nicely. Thanks, Martin!

The only variety in the weather forecast for several days has been the adverb: treacherously hot, dangerously hot, miserably hot, torturously hot, painfully hot….which means I start with an iced version of whatever I yank out of the “old bags” basket and continue to add scraps of whatever else is on hand, watering it down during the day until there’s nothing left.

However, this little specialty tea from Basilur held up pretty nicely under abuse today—started with a quart that had been fridge-steeped overnight; sweet, but not in that curl-your-tongue stevia way. Once it was half gone, I threw in a bag of Murphy’s Irish Breakfast, and ended up with a very pleasant iced blend with just a teeny bit of cherry finish.

Y’all enjoy a hot cuppa for me. I’ll catch up with you in a few days. September’s coming.

Martin, is this the one I’m drinking? If so, I’m enjoying it greatly! For a Ceylon tea, this is surprisingly smooth with very little of the coppery-brassy notes I usually associate with the variety. It’s a little bit sweet, but still has enough bite to get your eyes open—two qualities I value highly.

I was saving this little treat from Martin for a sleepy morning, thinking it would activate some lazy brain synapses. Wow, did it ever! It is definitely tea-THYME, pun intended!

The dry leaf is about half-and-half black tea to herb, and the thyme comes through first. It’s refreshing—sort of like lemon with pine, but the unusual combination keeps making me think about spaghetti sauce. Probably because my uneducated Midwest palate never seasoned anything else with thyme.

Martin, thank you for broadening my horizons! We aren’t done with hot weather yet—I bet this is doubly zingy on ice.

Rain! Two delicious mornings waking up to it. You can just hear the ground going ahhhhhh. We celebrated with a lunch out and a dessert at a little hometown ice cream gem (everything made-in store) that offers you the option of sitting inside a salvaged railroad mail car (the labels are still on the sorting boxes) or outside on the porch in rocking chairs. We rocked.

I’m so glad I had a little bit of this left to enjoy, derk, on an evening that finally didn’t require AC going full blast. I had no new revelations as I enjoyed it again, but it is a simply enjoyable, not fussy, sweet and gentle little green tea. As you mentioned in one of your reviews, it is a good evening cup—doesn’t mess with your rest. Thank you again.

Because of the citrus notes, I anticipated Here Be Dragons to be smashing on as a cold bevvy. Having just tried my first pint, I think I’ll back that off from a smash to a good, rousing pillow fight. Since my luck with cold-steeping green teas is so-so, I prepared it according to package parameters, then chilled it all day. The citrus which is so prominent when it’s hot is less so now. Still, it’s a tasty flavored green and is doing an adequate job of helping me chill.

Martin sent a beautiful little packet of these leaves my way—the kind that are so long you can’t get them on a spoon properly, so you have to guess at proportions just a bit. With new-to-me teas, I tend to err on the side of “don’t overdo it,” so my first cup of these beauties was a touch on the light side, but still malty and sweet.

I’m convinced that this will hold up well to longer and slightly more heavy-handed treatment.

This has made its way to the “just make iced tea out of it and get it out the door” queue. It’s a roasted oolong, but a finicky one: there is about a quarter degree and nanosecond sweet spot to keep it from turning bitter. Life is too short for finick.

That said, bitter-ish is better-ish when it’s on ice. We’ve got a nasty stretch of hissing weather ahead (thank you, Rosehips, for the turn of phrase!) so there’ll be plenty of opportunity to sip this one down.