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I had to buy this tea because of the name. I am, after all, a creature formed in the 20th century and my sensibilities, thus, have been trained to respond to various stimuli. I’m not the kind of person who responds to “Blue Light Special” or “Blue Plate Special” or “Savings!”. But anyone who would like to attract my attention can do so by a soupçon of French or un po’ d’Italiano. Adding an evocation of the past (vintage, Edwardian, Victorian, nostalgic) wins bonus points and I’m happily ready to separate myself from the contents of my wallet. I ordered “La Belle Epoque” in one of those Pavlovian moments. Who wouldn’t like a drink from “La Belle Epoque?”

I am so happy to report that this is a wonderfully robust Darjeeling. Darjeelings are quickly becoming my first morning brew of choice. This one steeps rapidly and quickly becomes an almost deep red color. Slightly smoky, woodsy, spicy, the tea tastes as if a dash of salt had been added (could that be the Belle Epoque?) but it really works in this tea as a piquant note.

Having now finished my second cup, I am nostaligic for me. This blend is certainly going on my list of teas that must be re-ordered.

My first experience with Lupicia was good. Although they don’t have the almost instant delivery of Upton’s; they delivered within 8 days of having the order confirmed and included two free samples.

Absolutely delicious! For the coconut aficiondo, this one is delicious. It reminds me very much of Premium Steap’s Organic Coconut and I am very hard-pressed to select between the two. They both have given me superb coconut experiences. I may need to hold a coconut tea survivor game and sip all of my coconut “contestants” and force myself to vote one “off the island” until just one supreme winner remains.

But such is the speech of nonsense. I don’t want to snuff anyone’s flame. This tea is just as rich, full, and delicious and true to flavor as any other coconut I have had.

I also have to make a plug for the speedy service American Tea Room provides.

I tried more of this—two days in a row because I was having a major jones for it. As Jane Austen might say, “I extend my approbation completely”.

My Silk Road Tea order arrived this afternoon and of course I had to try the Dragon Balls first. I was prepared for something a bit larger than a jasmine pearl and a bit smaller than one of those round gum balls. What I got was full-throttle testicle sized balls!

Anyhow, I put a ball into a glass tea pot and put in some just not boiled water and removed it to the dining room table, in scientific mode, to see how the ball would unfurl.

I was joined by my grey cat who is known as Bongo or Princess Annie or “mon frère”, depending on which member of my household you happen to be. He stared, utterly enchanted, at the slow unwinding of the dragon ball. At first it seemed to be resisting the heat and looked like a huge wad of chewing tobacco stuck in the cheek of a New York Yankee. Then slowly and subtly, the ball began to disintegrate. The cat and I were both captivated. It may have been something like watching an elderly movie star remove her make-up to reveal the ruins underneath. It ended up in a long-leaved mound and looked a bit like one of Monet’s paintings of hay-stacks in my glass pot.

The ball took five minutes to become a large mound and I thought it was high time to drink it (I had been making some experimental pours throughout). The water was a deep amber and indeed I thought that perhaps it would sport the kidney taste redolent of a tad of urine. Dragon Ball tea is indeed a bit funky, but not like urine. It’s more like the taste of decorous garden greens taken from a nut-growing plantation.

Oolings are rapidly becoming a favorite brew for me. They are subtle and they make me think seriously hard to pin down my characterization of their taste. I don’t think that there are enough analogies, similes, and metaphors to cover, adequately, the world of tea. I’m thrilled that I will get three or more steeps from my first ever Dragon Ball!

SECOND Steep: When I poured in the water, the Monet hay-stack collapsed into a pile of long delicate leaves. The second steep reinforces my favorable opinion. The aroma is delicate, nutty and floral and this time I can taste some buttery malt—subtle but certainly there. The color is a deeper amber because I gave it an extra 30 seconds. This tea is delightful on its own, but the name and the slow unfurling of the big ball make it a real conversation piece as well.
P.S. Thank you very much to Erin who told me how to bold text.

If you like Cinnamon you will likely love this. I do not believe I have ever encountered such a concentrated cinnamon taste. It’s quite overwhelming. I’m not a subtle person at all, but I would prefer that this be a bit toned down.

As far as cinnamon teas go, this is certainly the tuba, the percussion, and the whole orchestra added in. I cannot detect the orange and the clove but I will try this again with less steeping time, perhaps or add some milk and sugar.

Note: added small amounts of sugar and milk. I think that the milk cuts through the cinnamon a bit. The sugar makes it almost unbearably sweet and I added only a couple of small crystals.

I would highly recommend this to anyone who is looking for a great cinnamon hit. If you love this spice, you will love this tea. I prefer a more moderate cinnamon, but this is certainly a tea that delivers on all of its promises.

Second Steep: Although the directions call for a 5 minute steep, I made my second steep for 3 minutes. As a second steep, I used a mug that is about 16 ounces (i.e. almost twice as big as my first cup). I also added water from the start. This is good now and still extremely rich and flavorful.

If you love cinnamon, I’d recommend buying this tea and working your way UP instead of, as I often do, working a way down. It’s really concentrated. Try less than a tsp at first and try a 2-3 minute steep. Some experimentation will get you the most cinnamon-y tea out there!

I’m going to try this again. My first date with Blueberry Cocktail was disappointing. The hibiscus taste (or at least I think it is hibiscus) runs away with the whole gestalt. There are ample blueberries in the dry tea. Plenty of blueberries! And yet, perhaps, the other components overwhelm the blueberry.

For me, the hibiscus comes across as a loud and brassy citrus-y note, but without the clear flavor of an orange, grapefruit, lemon, or lime.

My palate is undeveloped, but some teas give me a taste of greatness. I cannot put my finger on it absolutely and resort to some of those much-mocked ipsedixitisms of the soi-disant oenophile, such as “this cougar of a cabernet is a saucy seductress with a Meerschaum of criollo overshadowed by a wench of a plum and a slippery nuance of black current which dabbles in an unsullied yet impertinent side serving of a cumulous cloud of Pringles Potato Crisps.”

Well, I can speak like a pretentious snob if I want to, but my tongue is not as far reaching as my vocabulary. Like the truculent tourist from the mid-west, I’ll say only that “I don’t know if it’s art, but I like it.”

With this tea, I do know that it’s tea, but I am not sure why I like it. It has a very light, very subtle floral sweetness. And it makes me understand the devotion that many drinkers have to Darjeelings.

I received my Mintastic today and decided it was just the thing. Dry, it smells lovely with spearmint perhaps winning the mighty contention between minty compadres for the “lead” aroma.

Once brewed, the odor is of a toothpaste/mouthwash mix. Pepsodent with a touch of Listerine? Ipana with Lavoris possibly, although I know that’s a little bit Ike and Mamie. Crest with extra whitener? I was a bit perplexed at first, but gamely sat down to drink my tea, knowing that I’d end up with minty fresh breath at the very least.

On taste, however, any serious intimations of toothpaste or mouthwash or anything medicinal, disappear. The trio of spearmint, peppermint, and wintergreen dance a lively gavotte in my mouth. No, it’s more like a Morris dance, where they take turns leading. No, it’s more like an English country dance, which Henry Tilney tells us is an “emblem of marriage”. The three distinct tastes remain distinct, and yet know when to blend and when to dip and when to “do si dos”. In sooth and in truth, it’s a delightful marriage of mints.

I can certainly see this as making a great iced tea too. Totally refreshing!
I have been consistently pleased with 52teas and consider their quality and their level of invention one of the best deals in the tea-buying world.

SECOND TASTE:
I like this as much if not more than I liked it yesterday. I used a smidgen less tea and this time I added a very small brown sugar crystal or two and a quick dash of milk. Although toothpaste overtones remain to the aroma, it’s a satisfyingly minty blend and it tolerates the milk very well.

I packed up 6 samples to go out to various members of the Steepster community and still have a couple to go…in the meantime, I decided to reward myself by steeping Napoleon.

I really cannot say that I am disappointed at all but my expectations get very high for some tea brands. If this were a TeaVana or an Adagio I would probably rank it close to 100. Keeping that in mind, the brew smells and looks rich, honest, and sincere. The predominate flavor that I get is a great solid black tea with generous vanilla overtones. As a lover of vanilla, I am certainly pleased. There’s nothing synthetic here, nothing cheap or cheesy.

Overall, I’m delighted and will almost certainly reorder unless I find a better black vanilla. TWG stands for “The Wellness Group,” by the way. I can most certainly see this tea promoting wellness. Named in honor of Napoleon, this tea makes me feel a bit more successful and a bit European!

ICED TEA: I put this on ice last night and the results are very pleasing. The appearance is cloudy (does not bother me but I might not serve it to guests) but the taste is delicious—the vanilla comes through loud and clear. Very nice!

This pale yellow tea belies its simple color by packing a good deal of complexity and flavor range into my cup. It does not have some of the overwhelming vegetal taste of the greens (which I do like—-I’ve discovered that I like hot buttered “spinach” in my cup.

This tea is more delicate yet quite fulfilling. The “vegetal” elements have been reigned into a decorous garden taste. The tea is naturally sweet on its own and has got a lot of “buttah” as well—not cardiac strength butter, but a delicate amount.

The tea conjures up a sort of pure elegance and understated glamour. I don’t see how anyone could dislike this. I also am rethinking my earlier and stupid aversion to white teas as being tasteless and packing no punch. That prejudice was ingrained, no doubt, by somebody’s elderly tea-bag once upon a time. This tea makes me want to try more silver needle types and start paying attention to white teas in general.

I’ve really gone off rooibos teas. Somehow I can’t get the sense of sawdust out of my mind. I purchased this tea before I knew that I had to limit the rooibos in my life. It’s a superb rooibos with no false flavors and a strong vanilla taste. I am not certain about detecting the bourbon or any kind of liquor—maybe next time I’ll watch for it more closely.

So far Eros is winning my Mariage Freres top-affections. But this is nice and very vanilla-y for an evening tea.