Samovar

Just received this blend today. As soon as I opened the double air tight (nice touch Samovar) canister, I could smell the myrtle, yum… Brewed it up and poured it into my favorite yunami and the smell of myrtle is still strong but not overpowering. Can pick up the flavor of the cornflowers now and the honeybush has mellowed the myrtle just enough. What a crazy, interesting choice of herbs for this one. Really happy with it but I think I’ll steep it longer on the next go, was worth the wait to get it here. You can tell that someone really took the time to get every detail of this blend just right.

I know I’m starting to sound like a johnny one note here. Or perhaps as though I’ve had a thorough brainwashing prior to induction into the cult of Samovar. But I am now officially… what is it? I’ve lost count. I think it’s six for six, or maybe I’m up to seven for seven. Perhaps I should just say I’m batting 1000. Or bowling 300. To sum it up, when it comes to Samovar’s offerings, I haven’t met one I wouldn’t buy again and the trend continues with the ginger pu erh.

In the sample packet, the aroma has a surprising chocolate note to it. Chocolatey, spicy, leathery. As with other Samovar teas I’ve tried, one of the most interesting things about it is that it isn’t fixed. It’s like shifting sand. Sometimes the chocolatey smell is primary, sometimes the leather, sometimes the spice. They each swirl forward and then recede, shift, do it again.

The rinse awakens and makes more powerful the ginger and orange scents. The ginger is spicy-sweet, not at all harsh. After steeping, the aroma evens out again. I found the chocolate again, and another surprise, a coffee note, along with leather, earth and spice.

The color of the liquor is very like how I remember the orange pu erh looked. Deep, woodlike. I think I said mahogany, can’t recall — it’s not the black petrochemical look of the Numi pu erhs. It’s deep, but translucent.

This may be the most successful use of ginger in tea I have experienced. Of course it is the only use of ginger I’ve experienced in a non-green tea except for in chai. What makes it successful is that it is part and parcel of the blend. Though it is definitely a focal point, it doesn’t blot out the other flavors. The orange is present, taking a far back seat compared to its role in orange pu erh (as it should), and the pu erh itself is deliciously smooth, rooty, and wet-earthy.

And with that, I can hit the free shipping number without waiting for Breakfast Blend and Chai to come back in stock. So I’ll be placing an order today. But not until after I’ve held this one’s hand through its remaining steeps.

Note: I am definitely going to have to recalibrate my pu erh ratings. Samovar’s are qualitatively better than Numi’s to my taste (even the Numi chocolate). But I will probably wait to do it until I’ve tried some other types of pu erh.

Ok, this is my first Pu-erh. This one seemed to have better reviews then others so I bought a sample of it. The leafs smell fishy. Not very strong but for tea, it just feels wrong to me. when brewed the smell is much the same. The color is very dark with a hint of red. If I drank this in front of others they would likely think I was drinking coffee.
For the taste, very weird. Honestly, I feel like if you removed all the saltiness from soy sauce it might taste similar. It’s not offensive. I had been afraid it would be. On first taste though, this isn’t something I’d buy.
So, this one might be good with a dinner next to a beach. I could see myself growing to like it. I’ll probably give it another try at some point in the future but right now, it’s too intense and mature a taste for me.

This is an outstanding tea. The green color and the smell is just about perfect. It reminds me how much I love Japanese sencha with its grassy flavor.

It is a delicate tea so I would recommend steeping at a a lower temp and a little less time than usual.

Not going to rate this now. I’m going to sit down with a cup of it next to a cup of GM’s lapsang souchong a little bit later and see which comes out on top, because it has been long enough that I’m debating with myself here. Plus…I’m eating this alongside my lunch of Singapore street noodles, which is obviously a strong enough dish to make this more for my own reference than anything else.

The primary difference between this lapsang souchong and the GM version I have is that this one seems to be far more intense in the ‘ash’ or smoke portion of the flavor than the other. Once the cup was brewed, I was surprised at how light it was in color (keep in mind that I choose to brew Samovar’s blacks at two teaspoons for 16 oz. versus the tablespoon that they recommend, just because this is the amount to which I’ve become accustomed with most teas, and usually the saturation of flavor is more than enough for me). The scent was…strong. Strong enough that the smoke aspect was acrid and slightly sharp, and gave me a creeping sensation of scratchy throat. I won’t say that it was unbearable, but I didn’t find it particularly pleasant. The taste seemed to be more mild than GM’s, and less sweet. I enjoy the mildness, but I miss the sweetness.

The good news?

Adding a little bit of fat free half and half completely eliminated the very ashy, sharp-smoke quality from both the flavor and the smell, and resulted in a more mild, balanced, and extremely pleasant cup of campfire tea. It’s the perfect accompaniment to my noodles, and I’m looking forward to having it when my palate is more sensitive so that I can really explore the nuances, because I feel like the flavor of this one has some unlockable depth.

Okay. Think I may have stumbled on the right approach to drinking this.

Drink, and think ‘dark yunnan tea’.

DO NOT think ‘mushrooms’.

This seems to be working. I think I prefer the taste of this tea when it’s still piping hot, rather than after it begins to cool…but…I am waiting on a second steep right now, and that is the first time I have ever been inclined to attempt anything of the kind, so…

Yeah.

Dark yunnan.

Not mushrooms.

Check.

Edit: With a 16oz. cup, I find I can get only 2 good steeps out of 2 rounded, generous teaspoons of tea…after that the water turns pink. Note to self.

I am determined to make myself like this tea, because it’s not a bad tea. In fact, I can even say that it’s a good tea, and I just don’t ever want to drink it, for all that this contradiction is utter nonsense.

I’ve seen the information shared around steepster (by Ricky via someone else, I believe) about doing much shorter infusion times, and I will fall back on that if I have to…but I also saw something somewhere about Takgoti recommending to someone else that they steep longer to bring out the sweet part of this tea, so that’s kind of my plan today. Fact: I am scared.

There is just no reason for me to NOT like it, though. Nothing about it is bad. If I were asked to cite the reasons for finding it overwhelming, I would be unable to. It is tea.

It’s not even like it’s a strong liquor and likely to light up my nasal passages. So, wtf?

I completely refuse to be beaten by this tea. If I were able to point to anything about it and say this is what I don’t like, I would be content to let it go…but I can’t. I even find the smells and flavors interesting. So why do I not want to consume them?

The lack of logic there is vaguely offensive, somehow.

I will cultivate a taste for pu-erh if it kills me.

I don’t really know where to rate this…so I’m not sure that I should yet. I know that it would be in the green spectrum of things (that’s the good news…does that count as a steepster spoiler?), but I’m not quite sure where.

What a strange, strange experience. I had no problems, you understand, leaping over the hurdle of adjustments required by my first lapsang souchong. I had no trouble diving into chais, no problem trying licorice-white tea when I have a long, long history of disliking licorice, but for whatever reason this tea, this type of tea, has scared the living daylights out of me since the moment I heard about it…and as with most things I find frightening, I’ve found myself simultaneously fascinated.

The pu-erh chai that I tried from Golden Moon did a fairly good job of reinforcing my fears, unfortunately. I knew that was true because the ‘maybe socks’ note that I was getting from the chai was easy to find here in this cup in abundance…but without spices masking the entirety of the flavor profile, and with more depth to explore, this has been easier to convince my taste buds to be mellow about.

I won’t lie — that’s a lot of what this cup has been about, for me. Convincing myself to just relax and not think about it too much. I’m not really sure what it is about pu-erh that makes me so uneasy. One could make the argument that it’s the slightly scary aging methods, but I’m one of those people who has no problem devouring blue cheese or gorgonzola crumbles on salads, so…I don’t think that’s it. I think it might be something to do with mushrooms. This is going to be a huge mental leap, but…

Okay. I love mushrooms. I do. They’re delicious. I make a shallot-sherry-tarragon-mushroom-cream soup that’s to die for. But I’m a really texture-oriented eater, and the little gills under mushroom caps sort of scare me a little. I also grew up down south, and spent a lot of time in Florida, where moist, dark, earthy places were typically filled with all sorts of things you really don’t even want to think about.

So, mental block, yes. Definitely mental block.

The cup of tea itself brews to a beautiful dark color, like the shade of Brazillian cherrywood, only maybe just a little bit darker than that. I didn’t get any fish smell off of the leaves, nor the rinse.

Unfortunately, something came up halfway through sipping through the cup, and I had to focus on other things. I can say for a certainty that I prefer this tea hot to lukewarm…the heat seems to bring the sweetness forward more, and I wanted that sweetness to balance out the other earthier flavors.

So, let me see.

This tea smells a lot like what I imagine it smells like on the inside of a very large, mossy branch of wood that has been lying on rich earth, absorbing rainwater and growing soft and pulpy while the sun bakes on the bark, beneath a thin blanket of damp and gently decaying leaves. It’s very much a ‘forest after a spring rain not long after a thaw’ smell, a heavily organic smell, but the sunny part of this tableau is definitely important, because it represents a mellow sweetness.

Early on in the first few sips, my first thought was, ‘mushrooms and honey’. It isn’t precisely mushrooms, and it is definitely not clearly honey, but that pair of flavors together might resemble this experience a little bit, if the mushrooms were woody enough and the honey was barely-there and of the dark, more raisin-y variety.

I can give myself another mental shift, if I try. Dusty hayloft and barn, replete with baking hay in the heat, leather tack, hot wood, and something faintly animal (which sounds awful, but horses have never smelled bad to me).

A strange cup, but I DID finish it, and I think I could even get to a point where pu-erh really only made me think of pu-erh. I’d be lying to you if I said I was wholly comfortable with it just yet, but there was nothing in this cup I would call bad…it’s just very intense. Very musty, very hoary. The flavors are so low and dark that calling it intense seems misleading, but I definitely stand by my use of the word.

hrm. I wasn’t particularly impressed with this tea. I wanted to be, I love vanilla. But it really didn’t have much of what I identify as that flavor. More came out once it cooled, but not initally. It was pretty tannic.

Overall, it just didn’t stand out for me. I tend to hold Samovar to pretty high standards, partially because they cost so much, and partially because so many others hold them in such high esteem. And this just didn’t make it.

Ah well – more samples to go try. :)

While I’ve had lots of Earl Grey in my life, I’ve only had two Earl Grey’s with lavendar. The other I thought to be a little wussy – I could barely tell the lavendar was there. No so with this tea. The first thing that hits you is lavendar. And this is not your grandmother’s closet sachets. This is a strong, self assertive lavendar. This lavendar has its own tools and can change a tire by itself.

The tea used in this blend is strong and tannin-y. The lavendar knows what it wants out of life. I’m not as fond of the bergamot in the blend. My first sips were very bergamot, but it did calm down later on in the cup.

Overall, this is a very good tea, and a very robust Earl Grey. Yum.

Very strong toasty flavor….almost overpowering, but not quite. There’s still some nice tea cutting through that gives it a good balance. Very substantial feel and flavor. Nice for a change of pace.

Had this one again last night. After sampling some other yunnans, most notably the Leafspa’s yunnan, this one is missing a peppery note. But it is bold w/no astringency….And definitely more flavor than Adagio’s Yunnan Gold and less malty than Adagio’s Golden Monkey… So I am still unsure about this one but I seem to drink it and I enjoy it…

Wonderful black tea and perfect in the afternoon. Not astringent. Not bitter. Unlike most breakfast blends, no milk is needed to round out any bitterness.

Typically, I prefer flavored black teas (especially dessert teas- chocolates, vanillas, melons, chocolate mint, etc.). Yet, this tea is very pleasant , malty, and intriguing without any flashy flavors. Will it become my favorite? Can I give up the glitz? Not sure as I am still working on developing a taste for non-flavored teas but this one is setting me in the right direction…..

This is quite a cerebral tea and certainly not a run of the mill vanilla . On the forefront is the sweet vanilla ; in the background, is a slight pepper/malty? flavor from the yunnan. As I drink this tea and contemplate the contrasting flavors, I keep thinking to myself, “hmmm…what is this?”

(Tea 1 of 8 in the my-boyfriend-is-awesome series)

I think I’ve already established that I have a mega sweet tooth. On rare occasions, I’ll try a tea, be satisfied with its flavor as is, and opt out of adding sugar or honey.

It is a testament to the flavor of this tea that I actually tried it sweetened, THEN unsweetened, but liked it much better unsweetened. That’s a new one!

This is still one strong chai. I still have yet to make a chai w/the traditional water/milk/boiling technique. And this is one blend that would be perfect for that. No one flavor predominates but as it is strong! strong! – I need lots of milk/sugar to smooth it out.

This is addictive as I have been drinking this all day. This is a classic chai. No tricks and suprises like coconut, lemongrass, or chocolate. With no spice predominating it forms a smooth flavor profile.

Unexpectedly, this tastes similar to the homemade chai my yoga studio used to make for its Sunday classes. So this definitely brought back memories and may have influenced my review!

I’m surprised no one else has posted a tasting note for this one yet. I was looking around for something new to try from the yet-to-disappoint Samovar and I ran into this one. I’ve already tried Blood Orange pu-erh so I decided to give it a try.

The first thing I notice is that it is fairly similar in its qualities to Blood Orange pu-erh. The main difference here being that instead of the scent and flavour of blood orange, it’s ginger. I suppose this makes far more sense than it should. I’m still not certain which one I prefer more… I suspect I’ll have to continue trying this one out. Unfortunately I only ordered a small can of it, and I think I made a mistake of ordering a larger can of the other “experiments”… More on that in the other tasting notes to come.

The good thing about these Samovar pu-erhs is that they can be re-steeped an almost unlimited amount of times. (Unlimited to me is around 5 times in one day, usually 3-4 times at work and one more at home). With pu-erhs from other places I find that after the 2nd or 3rd steep it’s lost its touch completely. Just something I thought I’d note.

One pretty special cup of tea.

I was craving something white and delicate today, so I pulled this out of the takgoti box of wonders. The leaves are gorgeous, green, fluffy beautiful wonders. And the leaves are speckled with the cutest of teeny blossoms. I’m assuming that this is osmanthus.

A word about osmanthus. I’ve never actually tasted it before now. The leaves aren’t particularly fragrant – white teas usually aren’t, in my experience – but there is an underlying sticky sweetness pervading the smell.

A tablespoon of this into the pot, and we end up with a light-cream-yellow infusion. Now the smell… I’m getting some pineapple, mixed with honeyed hay and silver needle goodness.

The taste… is actually a bit surprising! There’s the definite silver needle base, which is a bit veggie, but very smooth and endlessly drinkable. But the main notes here are this floral-honey note. I’d definitely lean more towards floral, though. And I can’t really identify the flavor note. I guess it tastes like osmanthus! It really is a peach-y sort of pineapple-y conglomeration.

Oh, and that toasted hazelnut that Samovar mentions in their tasting notes? Totally tasting that as well. It’s an end note, but it almost tastes like the husk around the nut once it’s been toasted. That kind of woodsy roasty goodness. I can’t describe it really any other way. Although there is a pretty distinct hazelnut tone as well.

Nom nom nom! Seriously Samovar, stop it. Stop being so awesome at everything that you do.