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In the bag, this perfectly mimics grapefruit – one of those very aromatic grapefruits, with tons of citrus oil in the peel. In the nose there’s definitely rind and bitterness – the full scale of true grapefruitness.

In the cup, though, the bitter element is reduced to the slightest hint in the aftertaste, just enough to make it a natural citrus. This really is just like drinking a grapefruit – or an oroblanco/Sweetie, going by how green it tastes.

There was a period in France when I used to have grapefruit for breakfast every day – where I stayed there were these perfect little grapefruit spoons that I loved, but I never got around to buying any of my own. So this summer in Japan, when I found some identical ones, I snatched them up immediately.

Now I want to stir my tea with one of those spoons. And I want to drink this with grapefruit. And I want to try it iced. And I want to have it with chocolate cake. And; and; and.

As always, Lupicia tea makes me really happy, and gives me small comforts and luxuries to look forward to. And my gratitude knows no bounds.

[From my Lupicia spree at Westfield Valley Fair in Santa Clara, October 2013.]

Both pineapple and coconut are flavours that can be very difficult for me to appreciate (see how brave I’ve been this time around – melon, lychee, pineapple and coconut; I’m taking on all my taste nemeses) and in the bag, this is all piña colada, with an emphasis on the coconut. No bland, artificial coconut, though, but one that takes me straight back to a coconut farm I visited in Ben Tre.

Steeped, the scent mellows considerably, but there’s still an emphasis on the coconut – which is surprising, as I thought this would be far more about the pineapple. In the sip, though, the fruit comes through and balances the coconut very nicely. I can’t help thinking, though, how perfect this would be with a little almond or vanilla thrown in for added complexity.

As the tea cools, the flavours come out more and more, but the balance remains excellent – again, surprising, as I thought the pineapple would take over completely.

This one might just grow on me, too, which could get expensive in the long run – all I want to do now is google island vacation spots.

[From my Lupicia spree at Westfield Valley Fair in Santa Clara, October 2013.]

The dry tea carries elegant, perfumed notes of lychee and oolong. I overleafed slightly, and I swear the little Butiki anole on the bag looked at me disapprovingly.

Steeped, this smells mostly of really gorgeous oolong. Flavour wise, the balance is absolutely perfect – the lychee is tartripe and ripesweet and sweettart all at once, and the oolong intermingles with it beautifully. The watery mouthfeel that has been my main objection in my Butiki trials so far (I need to experiment some more with leaf amounts) is not present, and the overall impression is a very smooth, cohesive sip with a fresh aftertaste that perfectly mirrors the elegant perfumed fruit notes present in the bag.

So far, my favourite from Butiki, together with the Maple Pecan Oolong.

[From my Butiki order to Santa Clara, October 2013.]

Lychee isn’t really my thing – except for that lychee martini at Doraku, but even then I can only have one. But when it comes to tea, things can really go either way, so I decided to attempt some lychee oolongs. This one from Lupicia is exactly as expected in the bag – a dirty-ripe, lush oolong boozefest with a surprisingly round lychee note to top it off.

In the cup, the scent mellows significantly, and the flavour is smooth, but with all the complexity of a good Lupicia oolong. Predictably, I want to try this one iced.

I have a strong suspicion lychee tea will grow on me and that I’ll get cravings for this at the weirdest moments – that’s usually the case when I’m this conflicted about a flavour type. I used to think it was a mere-exposure effect thing, but now it seems to land closer to the realm of acquired taste; you know, you try something, and it’s just so weird, and then you get these flashbacks and think, ‘Oh, I should maybe try that really weird thing again.’ (I’m sure that’s what happened to my poor husband when we first started going out.)

Either way, I’m so happy about Lupicia. If I had to choose one tea company to provide all my teas, I’d choose them in an instant. Their quality is so consistent and I feel I can really rely on that – I’m pretty sure I could walk into a Lupicia store, pick any tin blindly, and I’d enjoy my cup.

Oh, and this lychee sip aftertaste is just too good. Too good.

[From my Lupicia spree at Westfield Valley Fair in Santa Clara, October 2013.]

So time for round two of this melon tea extravaganza. This has a subtle cantaloupe/honeydew scent dry. I will admit to cheating a little with the amount of leaf used, going by my previous two instances of following the brewing instructions to a T (again, major punface) with Butiki teas.

In the cup, the melon flavour remains, but with an added smoothness to it. Taste wise, the flavouring is fairly subtle, and nicely rounded off by the ‘cream’ element, which, to me, carries some sweetness and is definitely close to being a full-on vanilla-esque note.

Placed in the larger melon tea context, the cream really sets this one apart – of course it’s impossible to compare it to a boozy Lupicia oolong like the one I tried yesterday, which is bound to offer so much more complexity of flavour, but something like cream or vanilla would have made that tea impossible to resist.

Again, I stress the tentative nature of this grade, seeing as I have more melon teas to try.

[From my Butiki order to Santa Clara, October 2013.]

Okay, second try, now with boiling water and a 2-minute steep.

Much better this time around, but still too subtle in flavour to really convince me it has a personality. But there has to be a way to make the flavours in this one pop. Has to.

This is beginning to feel like a So You Think You Can Dance audition, where you really want to love the dancer, because they’re beautiful and their technique and general execution are flawless, but at the same time they’re just not there. And so they weep when you tell them all this, but they still ask for a second chance and then they have to dance for their life.

Seriously, L’Oriental. Next time you’re going to dance for your life.

Lupicia, seriously; how do you even do this? Who flavours these teas? Are they wizards?

In the bag, this has that very Lupicia-esque filthy ripe-fruit oolong smell to it that I love so much in, among other teas, Ripe Mango Oolong. It’s an earthy, muddy scent with a hint of fruit rot, intermingling with a very potent cantaloupe/honeydew melon note. It’s somewhat overwhelming, but in no way artificial or overly sweet.

Steeped, it’s a perfect melon. Flavour wise, it’s a perfect melon. I don’t even know how to review this tea saying anything I haven’t already stressed so many times about how beautifully natural and lush Lupicia’s fruit flavourings are, or how excellent their tea bases is.

I’m dying to try this one cold, too.

I don’t have much experience with melon teas – to be honest, I’m not even quite sure how I feel about melon-flavoured tea as a general concept at all – and now I have three to try out, so see this as a tentative grade.

[From my Lupicia spree at Westfield Valley Fair in Santa Clara, October 2013.]

In the bag, this is perfection – the most elegant, sumptuous fruitiness, ripe with peach and passionfruit.

But steeped, it’s so subtle it’s silly – I’m going to refrain from rating this, and will henceforth follow Dinosara’s advice and steep these DF teas much hotter.

Seriously, peach, where did you go? We had a date.

[From my epic Instant-Thé order to Rome, October 2013.]

This is insane. I’m drinking a sticker. And I mean that as a good thing. See, when I was a tiny Anna with braids and glasses and knee socks, we used to trade stickers during our breaks in school. This was a huge deal; I carried something like five albums on any given day. Some of the most highly prized stickers were scented, my favourites being a large strawberry with the best sweet berryful vanilla-esque scent ever, and another one, the shape of which I can’t currently recall (and this is driving me crazy) but that smelled…

…exactly like this tea.

Nose-in-bag, this is almost too lush. Malty and dark and nutty and sweet. I very much want to eat something that tastes just like this tea. Preferably in cake form.

Steeped, the scent is far more subtle, but equally gorgeous. Flavour wise, it’s all there – the malt, the maple, the pecans – and I absolutely love it. I think I might have underleafed slightly (trying to measure out a teaspoon of spindly oolong leaf is about as awkward as trying to put pants on a cat) so it’s much too elusive and I find myself savouring the aftertaste more than anything, as the sip itself is a little watery. I always try to follow the instructions to a T (Ha! Punface!) on a first brew, and this definitely meant using less leaf that I would have chosen myself.

This is the second massive nostalgia trip a tea has given me in the past month (the other one was this: http://steepster.com/annchen/posts/196900) and I’m enjoying it immensely.

[From my Butiki order to Santa Clara, October 2013.]

When I received the kind gift of Anna time for tea shopping before leaving the US plus a ride to my favourite mall in Santa Clara, I obviously went straight to Lupicia. The very nice person working the store was helpful and patient with my many demands and inquiries and I found almost everything I wanted.

One thing I was looking for was a gift for my friend T – some tasty, more cookie-like alternative to that vile Bailey [sic!] tea from A.C. Perch we’ve shared samples of. What could be better than a tea named Cookie?

So I asked the salesperson if they did samples – they never have in any other Lupicia store, but it’s always worth a shot. They said yes, though, and not until far later in my tinsniffing adventures, did I realize they meant they’d brew up the samples for me. Thankfully, I’d only asked for two – Yume and Cookie. I’d asked for the latter solely because I wanted to be able to relate to my friend’s tea experience without asking for a sample from her – it wasn’t like I needed another black tea in my collection, considering how many 90+-rated blacks I’ve already found this year.

Yume was way too rosey for me.

And then Cookie.

Seriously, I had to get another tin for myself.

This must be compared to Wedding Impérial by Mariage Frères, which is among my most beloved teas ever, but it’s a lighter, far more playful approach to the same flavour spectrum. In the tin, it’s tempting, but not overwhelmingly so. The brewed tea, however, has a distinct note of buttery popcorn in the nose, which is absolutely irresistible, and brings something completely new to the table (cup). It’s also lighter than Wedding Impérial, both in terms of colour and texture, so it feels more like an everyday tea. I never really use additives, but I’m dying to try this with some sugar.

Flavour wise, it’s just perfect – a lighter version of my favourite tea, with added complexity and some surprises. Exactly the kind of tea I always look for.

I’m so happy I found this.

[From my Lupicia spree at Westfield Valley Fair in Santa Clara, October 2013.]