You know those people that are like, “Oh, tea is just like softly flavored water, I’m a real MANLY MAN and I like my coffee dark and my beer double-hopped and your wussy tea stuff will never be enough for me?”
Give them this. Maybe it will mellow out with time. But right now this stuff is for those times when a triple-IPA is not quite enough, when you need that quinine-bitter to hammer straight into your skull. Also, underneath the brutal, browbeating bitter: like, increasing with more steeps: clearly a dry-aged raw meat thing.
When you want to have your skull smashed into a concrete curb by a swaggering beast of a tea: there is Wild Monk for you.
I’m glad I have a cake.
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This tea sounds like it’d put hair on my chest and inspire me to make a log cabin with my bare hands with only the occasional help from an ox.
It’ll put hair on your chest and then grow extra hairs on the tips of those hairs, fractal style
Cleanup on Aisle 4. Someone’s mind was blown.
This tea sounds like it’d put hair on my chest and inspire me to make a log cabin with my bare hands with only the occasional help from an ox.
It’ll put hair on your chest and then grow extra hairs on the tips of those hairs, fractal style
Cleanup on Aisle 4. Someone’s mind was blown.