Tea Reviews | It's All About The Leaf

Posts Tagged ‘Preparation 1’

We are on Week Umpteen of a Midwest heat wave with daytime temperatures no less than sizzling. Nighttime lows are at a refreshing slow roast. Thus, I selected Pineapple Paradise as the optimum tea for this particular season–the name evokes visions of hammocks, gently swaying palms, a stack of really good books at my side, and somebody subservient to bring me copious amounts of this tea, iced.

I’m a big sun tea fan in the summer, so I deduced that, following the double-up instructions on the packet, I could put a batch in my trusty Mason jar on the front porch of our miner’s shack (temporary residence–long story) and brew up a batch of tropical goodness. The dry mix smells great–minus the rose petals, the scent is a lot like a Caribbean dried fruit mix.

Unfortunately, the fine-grade green tea in this particular blend needs a little more care than I gave it. (Whatever you use for sun tea has to be pretty forgiving.) The fruit and floral flavors were present in the first batch, but due to my neglect, the green tea was bitter and ruined the “ahhhhh” experience I was hoping for. The second try, I did it properly: just a teaspoon, not-quite-boiled the water, a steep on the shortish side, and the results were much better. My taste buds are still playing “spot the pineapple” a little–the lemon and floral elements are pretty pronounced. But if you’re aiming for tropical instead of a single fruit flavor, this’ll hit the spot.

If this is a flavor combo that intrigues you, my recommendation is to steep it as directed for hot tea, chill it in the fridge, then chill with it on a lazy day.

You can purchase the Pineapple Paradise directly from the Boston Tea Company website.

When one takes a look at the little brown rice puffs peeking out from the tightly rolled spinach-y sencha, one would conclude that this is tea with an interesting backstory. Two histories are attributed to this tea; the first one being highly practical–housewives using a common household commodity to stretch expensive tea.

The second legend is much more colorful: the servant of a samurai tucked some grains of toasted rice in his sleeve to sneak a snack in between his duties. As he served his master’s tea, a few grains fell into the steeping cup. This attracted the ire of said samurai, who whipped out his blade and beheaded the poor peckish peasant. To his regret, the master discovered the brew he believed to be tainted was pretty doggone tasty.

Believe either, or neither, but if you’re a lover of out-of-the-ordinary green teas, this is one to taste. Steeped, it’s a luscious golden green and has a scent akin to a whiff with your nose stuck deep in a box of Rice Krispies. And instead of muting the flavor of the quality organically-grown sencha, the rice gives this bright and brassy brew a nice sweetness. Perhaps our remorseful samurai repented by writing a haiku in praise of this serendipitous discovery:

Snap, crackle, pop; rice
Enhances this tea’s flavor.
I’ll have one more cup.

You can purchase the Genmaicha Organic directly from the TeaFrog website.

The first thing I noticed was the beautiful blue flowers interspersed into this tea. They definitely added an enjoyable element to the presentation. Following the suggestions of the package, I steep this tea for two minutes, using three teaspoons of leaf (in a two-cup teapot). The water was heated to the point where small bubbles were forming on the bottom of the kettle.

I am really impressed by the aroma of this tea. I have drunk a few blueberry white teas before, most of which tasted immensely of blueberries, but in an almost-artificial manner. This tea is different. The blueberry flavour does not jump out at the drinker. Instead, it meshes well with the flavours of the Pai Mu Dan base. The blueberry flavours are everywhere throughout the tea, when it is first sipped and in the aftertaste, but the flavours do not dominate. Thankfully, they also do not underwhelm. It may sound like this is a lot to say to merely describe the way in which this tea is well-balanced, but it is my opinion that this tea deserves the accolades. I really enjoyed drinking this tea. It is indeed worthy of the 93/100 I give it on my personal enjoyment scale.

You can purchase the Blueberry White Tea directly from the TeaFrog website.

Golden Monkey tea is, according to the good people at Tao of Tea, is a high-grade mountain grown tea. The “monkey” moniker comes from the fuzz on the long, lush leaves, not from being plucked by a primate. Monkey-picked tea is verifiable, but appears to be a whole ‘nother variety and a whole ‘nother story.

At any rate, the bushy, blond leaves are a treat to see and smell; and even more so to taste. Simply because I expected this to be a great tea and wanted to stretch the lifespan of my sample (note to tea newbies: gold or golden tips are a near-guarantee your tea is going to be excellent!) I was a little light on the leaf in my two-cup pot. Even so, the steeped results were great: color–burnished gold; fragrance–perfectly done toast; flavor similarity–perfectly done wheat toast with a drop of fresh honey. This Golden Monkey has some heft to it; feels good and thick on your tongue and continues to roast and toast you after you swallow.

Benjamin Franklin is credited for saying that “Beer is proof that God loves us and wants us to be happy.” I’ll forgive him that notion–after all, thanks to good King George, decent tea wasn’t to be had in the colonies. But I think that Ben might recant his words and turn teetotaler if we could serve him a sip of this simple, heavenly variety.

You can purchase the Golden Monkey directly from the Tao Of Tea website.

Ingredients for this were thankfully simple. Along with the touted natural blueberry flavoring were Bai Mu Dan (White Peony) leaves and cornflowers. Telling them apart wasn’t a difficult feat, even for a bespectacled boob such as myself. The tea leaves were forest green-to-brown – wilderness-like in appearance – with flecks of bold purple interrupting the jungle-ish canvas. Cornflowers aren’t considered a flavor enhancer. They’re added to blends for the sole purpose of making them look pretty, such as with Earl Greys. They certainly did their part here. As did the blueberry flavoring; one would’ve thought a blueberry had bled for this blend.

Brewing instructions called for a water temperature of 80C (176F) and a one-to-two-minute steep. That actually seemed rather light for a Bai Mu Dan in my opinion. Peony is generally a very resilient white. Usually, I went with a 165F (or above) steep for three minutes. That said, I went with their recommendation; a heaping teaspoon worth in 8oz of water, steeped for two. Just in case.

The liquor brewed up to the usual pale yellow associated with most white teas, albeit a tad darker since it was a Peony. The steam aroma was about as blueberry as anything could get, even in comparison to actual blueberries. The fragrance was also surprisingly sweet, giving the impression of fruit candies. Y’know…the roll-up kind. No surprise, but the flavor echoed the smell to the letter. Most flavoring agents dilute a bit upon infusion, but this stayed afloat like some sort of – uh – berry boat. (What? It was all I could come up with?!)

For connoisseurs looking to taste some Bai Mu Dan with their blueberry, I regret to inform you won’t get much of an impression of the white tea base. The problem with blending white tea is that so subtle a foundation gets lost in the botanical fray. This is why the most successful white tea blends use petals and blossoms, so as to enhance their subtleties. Actual freeze-tried or sun-dried blueberries probably would’ve worked better with this. That is, if the goal was to have a White Peony presence. But for something that blares with bombast about it’s “blueberry”-ness, this succeeds in spades.

You can purchase the Blueberry White Tea directly from the TeaFrog website.