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I suppose the time has come for me to confess I’m not a big fan of the kind of ‘dessert tea’ that contains large chunks of chocolate and caramel and whatnot. I’d rather just have a hot chocolate, complete with rum and whipped cream and vanilla extract and all the decadent little trimmings. I do love flavoured teas, but it has to be subtle – aside from the occasional petal and delicate piece of fruit, I want the magic to be all in the leaves.

So holy hell am I excited about this tea. It smells SO good dry. So good. I could sniff this all day. And steeped? This is full-on malty caramel chocolate fudge decadence in a cup.

It doesn’t have the masterful complexity of Pleine Lune, but it’s definitely up there with the smoothest, lushest of the Mariage Frères blacks. In addition, this is a tea I look forward to experimenting with. I got no bitterness at 4 minutes, but definitely hints of coffee; that’s how much punch the main flavours pack. A shorter steeping time might very well result in a subtler, lighter brew.

Only on the rarest of occasions do I put milk in my tea, but this is definitely one I’d like to try it with – maybe even as an iced milk tea.

Very worthwhile re-steep.

(ETA: It just gets smoother as it cools. This is seriously tasty tea.)

[Surreptitiously acquired from Mariage Frères in London, August 2013.]

So what do you do when you have a self-imposed ban on buying more teas? Outsmart yourself, of course. Maybe one of your friends has a small debt to repay. Perhaps said friend is going on a trip. Maybe, just maybe, you refuse cash, but suggest your friend repay you in tea instead?

This is all hypothetical, of course, but there’s no denying the eight new teas that have mysteriously turned up in my cupboard, seven of them from Mariage Frères. I drank Marco Polo (black) first, but I need some more time to ponder that, so this will be my first note from this batch.

The best way for me to describe this is as a more refined, subtle Bravissimo! (Lupicia), which is high praise indeed, seeing as that’s my favourite green tea at the moment. On the other hand, I find Bravissimo’s lack of sophistication very endearing – in fact, I’d say that very exuberance is one of the greatest qualities of Lupicia’s tea.

But this is still so, so good. The balance of the various floral notes is very well achieved, and right at the end there’s that little triumphant, unexpected flavour (‘Surprise!’) that makes for a lovely aftertaste.

[Surreptitiously acquired from Mariage Frères in London, August 2013.]

I’m pretty sure this is the same tea found here: http://www.tehusetjava.se/shop/product/smaksatt-safari—102-38-1478.aspx. Its origin escapes me – all the main tea chains seem to share certain blends. I got this for a friend to try, but ended up with some that didn’t fit into the special Anna-fashioned Tea Travel Set™ gift canister.

I get no pineapple whatsoever, and not much papaya. This seems to be all passion fruit, with some vague floral notes. Going by scent alone, it’s not the kind of tea I’d buy for myself – I generally find passion fruit too sour. And that’s the case here as well – Safari is a little too sour, a little too flat and a little too boring to be a favourite of mine.

Completely pointless re-steep.

[Purchased at Bönor & blad in Uppsala, August 2013.]

I’m not sure if this is the same tea as this one: http://steepster.com/teas/kahls/30691-kustfagring. I guess it’s possible Bönor & blad sell teas from Kahls, or maybe this is just one of those common blends I never realize is a common blend until I’ve come across it in fifteen different stores.

Either way, this is really excellent everyday tea. The pleasant, mellow fruitiness of any good sea-buckthorn tea is highly present both in the bag and the cup. The yoghurt and strawberry come together nicely, lending the flavour a sweet creaminess with hints of vanilla.

It’s not a very complex tea, but it’s smooth and round and well put together.

Decent re-steep.

[Purchased at Bönor & blad in Uppsala, August 2013.]

I do love a bit of quince jam and the characteristic tart-ripe note of the fruit is indeed highly present scent wise in the dry tea. Unfortunately, this complexity doesn’t quite translate to the cup – the main body of the scent matches that of the flavour, but the quincey aftertaste goes missing somewhere along the way.
It’s still a nice, solid tea of the fruit-flavoured green tea variety, and definitely more original than the usual vaguely tropical fare, but it’s something of a one-trick pony.

Resteeping seems entirely pointless.

[Gifted by my friend T, who got it for me in Visby in July 2013.]

This is the first kiwi-flavoured tea I’ve tried – I always assumed kiwi was one of those fruits that would turn out very artificial. When I received this as a gift, though, I was very excited to try it – particularly after smelling it. The scent in the bag is gorgeous; like a big bowl of thick, whipped cream with pieces if kiwi mixed in and a drizzling of bourbon vanilla extract.

In the cup, it definitely doesn’t disappoint – a slight bit of the creaminess is lost, but the kiwi is juicy and fresh and has a light, pleasant aftertaste of vanilla.

I tried some chilled, and it was beautiful as well.

Acceptable re-steep.

It’s also nice to see a Kränku tea again – they’re a local store on one of the main islands off the coast of Sweden, and I rarely find them where I usually stay when I’m back home. My aunt and cousins used to summer there, though, and I have many memories of Kränku’s tea blends.

[Gifted by my friend T, who got it for me in Visby in July 2013.]

The scent of the dry tea really appeals to me. It holds that promise of the unexpected I always seem to be looking for, that note of ‘what could this possibly taste like?’. And this tea delivers – unfortunately to the extent that I can’t quite explain it. The cornflower is highly present in the nose as well as the cup, but the main body, both scent and taste wise, is far more elusive.

Variations of the theme occur in all the champagne and cream teas I have tried, so the simple solution would be to call it exactly that – the ‘champagne and cream’ part of the equation. (And I would. If only it tasted like champagne. Or cream.)

It’s good, though – I love this wild card. It has plenty of depth, and works very well in combination with the floral note and the slight hint of fruity vanilla.

Fairly pointless resteep.

P.S.
It drives me nuts that Tehörnan consistently misspell ‘champagne’ on their website.

P.P.S.
I don’t own this tea – my sweet lovely friend T (yes, really) always spoils me with it when I visit, and last time around I snagged a sample so I could write a tasting note. So here it is, on her birthday; much love, baby. <3

Today, I served this for a birthday afternoon tea-esque (cup)cake party. Paired with all that frosting it seemed almost indecent; a kind of Marie Antoinette sumptuousness colliding with the explosive unpredictability of the Mad Hatter. I do adore this tea.

This is Lupicia at their very best. In the bag, a natural, sweet, ripe strawberry meets a rich and creamy vanilla. Lupicia usually go for a very subtle vanilla flavour, but in this case, either they’ve kicked it up a notch, or the strawberry gives it more punch, as the vanilla is highly present both in the nose and in the cup.

But what gives this tea that extra something, is the manner in which these two main flavours come together – to each sip, there’s a beautiful roundness I can’t really get enough of. This is one of my absolute favourite flavoured greens and the first one I hoarded when I accidentally (yes, REALLY!) stumbled over a Lupicia in Kyoto while out for a perfectly innocent evening stroll.

[Purchased at Lupicia in Honolulu, December 2012.]