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Tonight I noticed that it is possible to squish the dried chamomile buds and blossoms in the sachet. It’s more or less the bedtime equivalent of popping bubble paper.

I have not been very happy with the new white box Tazo filter bag teas, but I decided to try Chun Mee out of curiosity. To me, this seems an awful lot like Zen without the lemongrass, which could be a good thing for those who dislike that particular adulterant.

The liquor is golden brown, and the flavor is not unappealing. It seems like a better version of some of the unidentified green teas sold at the grocery store. I won’t buy this one again because there are so many better choices. It’s okay, just not nearly as good as my favorites in the green category…

It’s somewhat hard to believe that an herb-based, non-tea vanilla infusion could taste this smooth and creamy without anything added to it—but it does! I ended up drinking two large cups of Sleepytime Vanilla tonight.

Now it’s time to sleep!

I was craving green tea but had already exceeded my caffeine limit for the afternoon, so I brewed up a pot of Tazo Decaf Lotus Blossom Blend.

Today it tasted much more floral than previously, perhaps because my last few pots of green tea have been sencha and Long Jing…

I had three nice infusions from this pot, all flavorful and thirst quenching.

Harney & Sons Tower of London Blend comes in the gorgeous Historic Royal Palace tin, this one in purple. Irresistibly beautiful! But how is the tea?

I was initially surprised upon finding that the scent of the dried tea in the sachets smells incredibly similar to Paris. For that reason, a steep-off was de rigueur!!!!! Here’s what I found:

Both are slightly fruity blends, and both contain bergamot. So both are veering toward Earl Grey territory. However, Paris boasts vanilla, while Tower of London boasts honey. I have to say that the honey taste is incredibly subtle in this blend and while I believe that I can sniff it off the surface of the dark golden orangish-brown liquor, I am not at all sure that I taste it amidst the fruity-black blend.

As usual, I drank these teas (both fruity black blends with bergamot) with light cream, because that’s how I take my Earl Grey, and these are at least second cousins. The Tower of London Blend is good, but the Paris is somewhat creamier and smoother. It seems that the vanilla flavor is marginally stronger in the latter blend than the honey flavor is in the former. Are there other differences? Honestly, I have found it challenging to try to figure out what they might be.

The black tea in the Tower of London Blend appears to be slightly less dark, but I also noticed that the sachets contained different amounts of tea (there was quite a bit more in the Paris), so the lighter shade could actually be due to a weaker brew produced by fewer leaves of the same black tea base. Not sure.

I drank Paris and Tower of London in the sachet formats side-by-side twice this afternoon, and both times I concluded that the Paris is slightly better. But it’s an extremely close contest, so close, in fact, that I now believe that anyone who likes Paris is going to like Tower of London, and anyone who likes Tower of London is going to like Paris. Both are much lighter on the bergamot than any Earl Grey, so they may appeal both to Earl Grey lovers and Earl Grey detractors for that reason!

I like this tea and am happy to have another 28 sachets to brew up and sip, though I do seem to like Paris slightly more…

Today’s steep-off chez sherapop pits Harney & Sons Paris against Harney & Sons Tower of London, both in sachet format.

I prefer Paris, but it’s such a close call that I had to do the test twice!

What a pleasant surprise this vanilla-laced Sleepytime is, especially since in the latest batch of Sleepytime the chamomile is completely overwhelmed by the spearmint. I waited a while to try Sleepytime Vanilla after seeing that the ingredients list begins exactly the same way: with chamomile followed by spearmint in the number two position. Vanilla is listed only fourth, after even lemongrass.

Well, vanilla must be a lot stronger than spearmint and lemongrass, because in Sleepytime vanilla the creamy vanilla flavor somehow tames the spearmint and even manages to rescue the chamomile to a certain degree. This is a very nice variation on the Sleepytime theme, and I’m happy now that I picked up a box at Whole Foods a couple of weeks ago.

Has anybody read the disturbing blog article about pesticides in Celestial Seasonings teas? That’s my only remaining concern. I am hoping that I’ll find a study which proves that the blog article was wrong. I was under the impression that Whole Foods had a stringent verification process for the foods on their shelves. I sure hope so, because the thought of drinking poison in an ostensibly all-natural tea is rather disconcerting…

For now, I’ll just focus on the flavor—which is good! Anyone who enjoys vanilla in tea would appreciate this blend, it seems to me.

I just realized that the dried chamomile in these filter bags smells like cat litter. Fortunately the golden brew tastes like chamomile!

My ravings about the wonderful shredded herb-filled Refresh sachets are probably getting old, but I keep going to Starbucks, and I’m trying to keep an accurate tea log of what I consume, so, yes, it happened again: another take-away refill of this yummy infusion.

It’s a pretty consistent experience: very aromatic, very refreshing, very satisyfing. What differs every time is the preceding beverage: what did I buy to be able to walk away with a grande Refresh?

Today it was a grande Americano with long shots and room at the top so that I could slosh in some half-and-half. This was a truly pleasant surprise and a reminder to whom it may concern (read: marketers everywhere!), that labels really do matter.

For years I steered very clear of the Starbucks drink menu item known as “Americano”. What else could it be but some gross sort of Folgers facsimile? I mused to myself. I ask most sincerely: Is not that the sort of coffee for which Americans are notorious? Stale, overcooked on the burner in a Mr. Coffee machine centrally located in the lunch room. Everyone at work drinks it because they are so worn out from the tedium of their job and desperate for caffeine, but the dark syrupy liquid in the bottom of that bulbous carafe equipped with a black plastic L-shaped handle and a silver band around the neck is a veritable crime against coffee—and humanity!

My question: Why in the world did Starbucks decide to call a triple expresso diluted with a bit of hot water an “Americano”? That’s got to be one of their worst calls ever, rivaling even such debacles as withdrawing free soymilk from Rewards card holders—after having conferred it upon them!!!!

I wonder how many other people in the universe have no idea whatsoever that an Americano is actually tastier than the brewed coffee at Starbucks. (Well, usually. On occasion I’ll encounter a near transcendent batch of one of their special or dark roasts, but that’s the exception, not the rule, and I have learned the hard way to ask when the current batch was brewed before ordering a cup. Some stores are much more meticulous about switching out old coffee than others…)

My Americano today was delicious, even as good as a cappuccino. Perhaps even better, except that the foam was missing. But setting aside the texture issue (I love a good foam on top of a hot cappuccino or latte!), the taste was superb. The perfect coffee precedent to a grande cup of Refresh, which I savored throughout the entire duration of my two-mile walk home.

I’m not sure whether I should be posting this note under Adagio or Zhejiang. I purchased it from Adagio as a part of the Master’s collection containing three different teas in two formats (so six tins), but it clearly came from Zhejiang. Maybe I’ll post it there, since others have written there…

On second thought, there is only one note there, and the packaging is completely different, so here goes. The version I prepared today is in the sachet. The leaves are wholly in tact and in serious abundance. Honestly, they appear to have packed this sachet to capacity, because upon infusion it was completely stuffed—like a plump green pillow! In fact, I worried a bit that the leaves might be stifled in this configuration, trapped like sardines in a can, unable to swim freely and actualize their full potential.

The brew of the first infusion was a light yellow color, a bit more golden than green, and the flavor was veering toward sencha. The scent, too, reminded me a bit of some senchas. This tea, however, is even cleaner and less vegetal. Very smooth and likeable, but not as good as the Lung Ching from Teavivre… I’ll try the loose leaf format and see whether my theory about leaf oppression has any basis in reality.

second infusion: with so many leaves crammed into the sachet, I felt that a follow-up infusion was obligatory, though I actually used the sachet because I was in a hurry and planning not to prepare and drink two cups before leaving.

The three-minute brew was weak with only very faint flavor, so I threw the bag back into the glass and pretty much forgot about it for a few minutes. Then the liquor was darker and more brown, and the flavor was more like hoji-cha than sencha. I’ll try again!