159 Tasting Notes
“Why not try it again?” I thought.
“it can’t be as bad as I remember” I thought.
I was making my other half a giant Velvet Kilimanjaro layered Latte with a shot of Father O’leary’s Irish Cream (a cheap Bailey’s substiute my mother-in-law buys) and I hasd a sudden post-pradial attack of laziness as far as my own tea was concerned, so I went for the bag.
I only have myself to blame. It was murky and leathery. Not nice
Preparation
My better half was eating Turkish delight, so I changed my mind from Darjeeling and reached for this malty assam to cut through the sweetness.
It is everything I want in a tea, great black for me or with milk for anyone else.
malty and caramelly, luscious.
Preparation
Minty and great, with breakfast, which is cheese and tomato on toast.
Wonderfully mediteranean feel with this meal, this tea, in this glorious sunshine ahead of a hot day.
Hard to resist a second cup.
Preparation
I am specifically reviewing a cup that is a long way down the chain.
Yesterday, I made a Pai Mu Tan for myself and my better half at about 3pm. Nice
I did a second small steep on the spot.
Just before dinner at about 7pm I had another. Thean around 8:15 had another.
So, now we come to this one. It’s the next wmorning, just before seven. This tea has produced 5 cups from 4 steepings prior to this; and we come to number 6 or 5 depending on your point of view.
It’s a little insipid.
I was asking too much of it. To be fair, it has no bitterness, no staleness, nothing wrong at all – just a little underflavoured.
It would be unfair for me to change the rating. This tea has done very well.
Preparation
One of the joys of being male is that Rasberry tea holds no fears. After all, raspberry leaves should be avoided in pregnancy as they can bring on labour.
Having established that I can drink it with impunity, the fact remains I have waited 45 years to actually do so, But whilst on a tea-stealing mission last night in my son’s cupboard, I found this and decided to give it a go.
It seems to be a good black tea, possibly a nilgiri, with raspberry leaves, obvious dried raspberries and I imagine some oils.
I had some trobled pouring it, the dried raspberries swelled up and blocked Clarence’s spout. That’s not really a negative, though.
Overall, the aroma ahead of drinking it, and the aftertaste, are better than the actual tea. It’s sweetish, and basically tastes like raspberries. There’s a hint of tea. I’m glad they used nilgiri (if indeed it is) because a lesser tea would have vanished completely.
It’s OK. I might indulge occaisionally.
I suspect it would make a great syrup. I might make up a big batch, reduce it with sugar and then pour over pancakes on the weekend.
Preparation
Last time I went to the tea shop I used to own and asked for this, they told me it had never existed.
So when I found some in my son’s cupboard last night, I demanded a cup on the spot.
It’s just a lovely tea.
The cornflowers always remind me of those pink lolly cigars and musk sticks we had as children (I don’t suppose it’s legal to make a sweet that looks like a cigar any more, ones that look like cigarettes were banned thirty years ago)
So it really shouldn’t work, a good dryish black tea with something that has a rather childish taste.
But it does, it does so well. I used to make this tea up as a base for muffins and put extra cornflowers though them.
So, you have a fine edge of sickly, flowery sweeteness running through an otherwise impeccable Ceylon black.
It’s a bit of a guilty pleasure.
I purloined a little of this for home, along with a black rasperry tea I shall review next.
