The first thing I noticed about this tea was its aroma. Oh, my, this aroma! Sweet condensed milk, and overpowering. As the tea is steeping, the aroma expands to reveal a floral base. It’s as if someone has had the bright idea to add buttermilk to a glass of rosewater.
Waiting for the soup to cool, the flowers become more pronounced. When I sip, I taste the butter first (it’s still the dominant odor) but it quickly rolls to the edge of the tongue to make way for orchids on the tip. This movement happens as quickly as electricity flows through a circuit. A slight vegetal taste creeps up but is drowned in butter so quickly it leaves not so much as a footprint.
Another sip. Sheesh, the butter! It robes the mouth, but still there’s a kernel of flower petals. If they’re the pistachio, the butter is the chocolate encasing it. This tea survives three infusions easily without losing much of its potency. The buttermilk taste is slick and delicious, but I can’t imagine drinking this every day. It’s something to have for dessert along with a bowl of ice cream and a slice of baklava.
Scratch that. Sounds like a recipe for a sugar-induced coma.
