The rooibos version of this is one of my favourite reds, so I had to try the black. It has very little to do with the familiar one in my cupboard, though.
Scent wise, the dry tea has a thick, buttery richness to it that I recognized so well but couldn’t quite place. And then it struck me. Rice porridge. In Sweden we make a difference between rice porridge (runnier) and rice pudding (baked in the oven, more of a cake-like texture) and the former is mainly served as a traditional Christmas dish, warm, with milk, and with cinnamon and sugar sprinkled on top.
It can be a bit of a hassle to make the actual porridge, as it easily burns (the rice is cooked in milk) – my mom has a sneaky trick, though; she takes it off the heat after it comes to a boil, and then wraps the whole thing in blankets to keep it warm until it’s time for Christmas dessert. It usually rests for five or six hours, which allows the rice to slowly cook and swell. Unwrapped, the porridge has the perfect texture and temperature, and it’s seriously the best trick ever.
And this is exactly what it smells like, on Christmas Eve, when that lid is removed.
I’m pretty sure the rice porridge effect is what’s supposed to pass for marrons glacés, but I haven’t had those since I was very small, so the rice layer is simply much further up in my memory stack.
The tea base is very pleasant, classic Mariage Frères, and I know this is one that would have appealed to me immensely if there hadn’t been such an outlandish scent/flavour parallel. As it is, I don’t really know how to feel about the whole thing. Every other sip is, ‘I like it..’, and every other, ‘…but it’s weird.’
Thanks for adding this and messing with my head, cteresa!
[Sample from the second round of the EU Travelling Box, spring 2014.]
the vanilla is very very present as well in this blend, did you get it as well ?
No, not at all – I was completely confused by the mentions of vanilla in the tasting notes when I read them.
I think it might be because there’s no vanilla in rice porridge, and hence, logically, this couldn’t taste like vanilla, according to my brain.
I would have liked to get the vanilla, though. I would.
too bad, to me this really a pure candied chestnut ad vanilla tea. If you have enough, maybe try a second time with 90°c and 4 or 5 minutes.
_ she takes it off the heat after it comes to a boil, and then wraps the whole thing in blankets to keep it warm until it’s time for Christmas dessert_
It’s the only proper way! It’s not Christmas if there hasn’t been a large pot tucked into the footend of the bed. ‘Hay box’ we call it, although most people don’t actually have access to a box full of hay these days.(We serve it in Denmark as ris ala mande though. Add vanilla, sugar, whipped cream and plenty of chopped almonds and most importantly one whole almond.)
Ysaurella – I might, but at the same time I’d like for more people in the swap group to be able to try it. We’ll see!
Haha, I’m glad you understand, Ang.
In Sweden a lot of people do ‘Ris à la Malta’ – vanilla, sugar, whipped cream and tinned mandarin oranges. I just read on Wikipedia that the ‘à la Malta’ is an alleged bastardization of the ‘alamande’, which in its turn obviously comes from ‘à l’amande’. Learnings.
Ooooooh this sounds so good! Chestnut is one of my absolute favourite flavours in tea, fingers crossed there’s some left when I get the box! (:
(But if you want it, go ahead)