takgoti Send Message

Sorry Adagio, not impressed.

I haven’t been drinking a lot of Adagio lately for whatever reason, When I read @Cynthia Carter’s log yesterday I thought to myself, “Self, this might be a good time to try this one.”

I also have a UtiliTEA and Adagio recommends 180 degrees, so I set the dial near the top of the green region and brewed a cup. The first couple of sips were overwhelmingly salty. Then it was like what @CC said – bath water. And then I wasn’t getting enough flavor, so about halfway through the cup I tossed it and moved the dial back.

The second try was a bit more mellow, though more flavorful. However, it still isn’t doing anything for me. The taste becomes a little bit more obvious as it cools, but…

Okay, here’s the thing. There are moments when I think that this could be a tea that I would really like. The scent has this nice roasted quality to it, and the finish is enjoyable, but getting to that point is not at all fun for me. The beginning part of this for me has a hint of bitterness [which I’ve gotten accustomed to from some of the greens] but it’s accompanied by this distinct blechy taste that’s almost sour. It reminded me of this time when I drank water out of a glass I hadn’t rinsed very well and still had some dishwashing liquid on it. So I resteeped the leaves in a new cup, just to be safe. Still there.

The tricky thing is that the aftertaste on this makes me think that I drank something good. It’s got that nice grassy sweetness that is in many of the greens I enjoy, especially when I breathe air in over my tongue. So I keep picking it up and sipping it. Even as I’m writing about how I’m not a huge fan of it. And there’s the dishwashing liquid.

I think I’m going to have to shelve this and try it again sometime when this experience has faded and I’m feeling up to it again. [If anyone has any suggestions I was at 1 tsp leaves, 8 oz. water at 170-175 degrees. Ish.]

Ironically, though, this has my curiosity piqued, so I think I’m going to try Tavalon’s dragonwell and see what happens.

It is harder for green teas to stand out to me, because I have a lot of them and within their subtypes their flavor profiles tend to be pretty similar. But not with this one.

What can I say? I just really freaking like this tea.

The sweetness from it is, for me, just perfect. Almost…juicy? When you add that it’s well-balanced with the other flavors that are floating around in the cup, it makes it memorable.

Sometimes you need to drink something that’s just…GOOD, you know?

I’ve been surfing on a crest of mucus for the past couple of days. [I know. Lovely.] A sore throat and that dull full body ache have also invaded, so when I read a tasting note the other day from @Britt Wight mentioned that honeybush is an expectorant so it’s been ALL ROOIBOS ALL THE TIME here. With the exception of the masala chai I had the other day, all the tea I’ve been drinking has either been this or Samovar’s Ocean of Wisdom.

Great for the mucus.

Not great for my energy levels.

If you ever want to make someone tired, deprive them of caffeine and make them try to read physics. Instanap!

The tea is good. Still makes me feel like a giant blueberry, but I find the taste pleasant. [Then again, I also like rooibos.] It’s sweet but with a tartness. It could be that my tongue is playing tricks on me because of this cold, but it’s a tartness that doesn’t remind me of hibiscus. [While I don’t mind hibiscus, I am beginning to tire of it being used in everything under the sun.]

A few hours on the deck, with a steaming cup of this, and the BLESSED, BLESSED SUN had me feeling better than I have in days. Now I just need to get some caffeine in me. Shouldn’t be a problem. The physics, on the other hand…

Our fair state has looked like this for the past week.

http://twitpic.com/lr240

Which, yes, is pretty. And I usually like the rain. But it’s gotten dreary and I’ve been feeling lethargic. So when I woke up the the other day and was greeted by sunlight, it made sense that the glorious event be coupled with a metaphorical awakening as to just how exceptional this tea is.

I’m really glad that I decided to pull this one out of my tea stash before the cold I am coming down with decided to rear its ugly self, because I can already feel my taste buds starting to dull.

I’ve been drinking an increasing number of black teas lately [for which I must credit to the fine people at Andrews & Dunham], and I think that that has added new layers of wonder to the appreciation that I have for this tea.

So. Many. Flavors! I mean, I was floored. It reminds me, bizarrely perhaps, of the best parts of movies and TV shows for me – where they do something and it’s funny or whatever and I’m mildly amused, but then they take it past the slightly mundane and all of a sudden kick it into overdrive.

I know that I really think TV shows or movies are good when I am watching them alone and I catch myself laughing out loud, or holding my breath, or becoming seriously annoyed when the commercial break hits. What have you. I know that I really think that this tea is good because three mouthfuls in, I let fly a, “Holy shit.”

If you are going to fully enjoy this tea you need to let it hit all the sections of your tongue, and you need to let it move around a bit. It’s smooth, deep, and reminiscent of wet autumn leaves. The predominant flavors I get are a caramel maltiness and yams or sweet potatoes. Maybe yams because it has more of that sweetness to it. I get hints of a buttery flavor, spices that I can’t place, and raisins. This is a tea that I am definitely going to be drinking a lot more once this cold goes away, because there is a LOT going on in it.

I like it better warm, but it changes as it’s cooling. When it’s actually cool I don’t find it nearly as enjoyable, but the journey that it makes on its way there is somewhat fascinating, so its a bit of a Catch 22.

Plus, it’s one of the prettiest teas I’ve ever seen.

http://twitpic.com/m6s6k

My reward for a lot of work and well under 8 hours of sleep for the past 5 or so days was a big saucepan of this.

It smells so spicy, yet sweet. It’s homey, yet exotic. It warms you up but tickles your taste buds ever so slightly. When it’s simmering in the pot, the aroma rises, sweeps out, and perfumes the entire room.

I’ve found that, once the milk has begun to froth and you shut the stove off, it gets better the longer you let it sit, but I often can’t wait longer than 10 minutes. The milk adds an almost malty quality to the scent. The tea itself is rich and creamy, with a hint of sweetness [I use two tablespoons of sugar] and a puff of heat from the spices. Unequivocally delicious. If teas were blankets, this one would be a chenille throw.

Usually, I make enough of this to stick some in the fridge and drink later, because this is equally good chilled. But today, I needed to consume every last drop. So I did.

Best reward ever.

I’m going to cop to not giving this tea enough attention previously. It’s actually quite tasty.

I think I might have already mentioned that up until maybe two years ago tea was not something I cared about. When I did drink it, whatever I consumed wasn’t savored [it probably wasn’t very good, either]. I would drink it like you do water. And so I’ve been a little slow on the learning curve, but a few burnt tongues later I know now that to get the full flavor of a tea you need to let it sit around in your mouth for a spell.

After reading what some other people had said about this tea, I decided to let it steep for 4:30 as opposed to the recommended 4 minutes. Other people had let it go for 5 minutes, but I fear the oversteep greatly [since I’ve done it for this one and PBPPPBPTHHPWEH!!! – that’s the sound I made]. Maybe I’ll go to 5 minutes next time, though, because at 4:30 it was REALLY good.

Thomas Sampson is more reminiscent of Jackee Muntz than I gave it credit before. It has that same, caramel-like flavor to it, but it’s not as honeyed. [The difference is somewhat subtle.] I’d call it more malty. It also has some bitterness swirling in the background, and a lightly charred flavor at the finish.

It brews into this gorgeous, coppery color. On the first half of the cup, it almost felt…gritty in the mouth. Although that may not be the right word. Papery sounds more accurate. Kind of dry and with texture. Later on it smoothed out and became more satiny.

Black teas are probably the ones that I drink the least on the whole, but this series totally has me hooked. I see quite a bit more black tea in my future. Going in for cup numero deux.

Not that this tea has ever been bad for me, because it hasn’t, but tonight the stars aligned, the fat lady sang, and cows across the land mooed as though they’d never moo again.

I brought the water to a full boil and let this steep for JUST under four minutes in the neighborhood of 3:45. I’m not sure if that made any difference, but all I can tell you is that this cup I am savoring right now? It’s not tea – it’s elation.

At the risk of you thinking me gross, I’m going to say this regardless because I don’t know how else to convey the depth to which I am enjoying this. I don’t want to swallow this tea. I just wanted to swish it around in my mouth FOREVER.

It’s leaking caramel. It’s like I’m sucking on a Werther’s Original. It’s as if I took a bucket of sugar and a stick of butter and melted it all down, let it simmer and bubble for 15 minutes, and am now sitting here drinking it. I mean, if I close my eyes, I can very nearly fool myself that I have a mouthful of caramel.

The feel of this tea is silky and thick. It FEELS like I’m sipping on syrup.

I might as well admit it. I am just fully, completely, and utterly enamored with Jackee Muntz.

Before I say anything else, I want to say that my first experience with Jade Cloud was a thoroughly enjoyable one.

That being said, here’s the thing. The more tea that I accumulate, the harder it can be to distinguish them from one another – especially if I don’t drink them back to back [and I don’t drink teas of the same type right after one another, really].

The more tea that I try, the more the flavors start to blend together until certain ones become indistinguishable until only a select few stand out – either because someone did something noticeably different or the taste is just THAT much better. As I’m typing this out, I’m realizing that perhaps that’s the point of drinking a lot of tea, but I also feel like it’s probably more my fault than the tea.

I guess that this is why they have tea tastings in shops, right? Usually, I don’t brew pots – I brew cups, and I re-steep if I feel like drinking more of it and/or the tea can take a re-steep. Maybe I need to get some shot glasses or some of those tasting teacups and spend a day or two comparing the similar ones. Part of me feels like if the differences aren’t ones that I notice between cups then what do I care, but part of me wants to see if I can notice a difference. [Curiosity will likely win out, because it almost always does.]

This is also a long-winded way of saying that the flavors I got out of this tea are going to sound mighty similar to other teas that I have previously logged. It is nutty, but with a grassy sweetness to it – warming and comforting, and I really liked it. It was certainly welcomed into my day since we’ve been having some rather dreary weather, but I see this as being something I’d revisit regardless of what the hell’s going on outside.

TEA BAD.

It’s our third day of rain and I think I’m coming down with something, so I needed a quiet start to this morning.

I don’t know what it is that I love about white tea so much. It could be that it brews into this beautiful champagne color. Or because the flavors are so light and fragile that they feel as though they might break or melt away if you try and keep them in your consciousness for too long.

For me, white tea lends itself for two occasions. 1. Airy spring days before the sun starts beating people senseless and warm breezes dictate the temperature of the day. 2. Days of light precipitation when the only sense of sunlight you get is what reflects itself off of nature’s shinier surfaces.

If I were to add something more personal to the list, it would be: 3. Days you want to approach slowly and gently, so that you do not startle them into roaring back at you with the ferocity that they have been exhibiting during the previous part of the week.

The first thing that you would probably notice about Downy Sprout when opening the tin is the leaves. They’re this light green color and COVERED in those little white hairs. They look like little snippets of silk or satin cord. It’s one of the prettiest teas I’ve ever seen.

It would be a crying shame if such a beautiful tea fell flat on flavor, and luckily this one does not. It’s got a distinctly nutty taste to it, though light, and the sweet notes of it seem to touch on parts of your tongue and then flit away. The description says there’s a honeysuckle component to this, but I get more of the peachy apricot-y aspect of it. That doesn’t make it any less enjoyable, though.

When you start the day off with a tea like this, how can the rest of it not go smoothly? Did you hear that, Today? I SAID: WHEN YOU START THE DAY OFF WITH A TEA LIKE THIS, HOW CAN THE REST OF IT NOT GO SMOOTHLY??

All right. I’m off to test the effects of Downy Sprout on Calculus.