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Jen vB’s review of Butterscotch Blondie reminded me that I have a few stray bags scattered in multiple locations, one of which was close by after lunch. It is far less buttery than the Savoy Caramel Buttercup I’ve been enjoying lately, but pulls off the almost-a-cookie vibe very nicely, even without the addition of milk. (Now what’d I do with the rest of the bags…?)

As I was adding this to the library, I laughed at the “slight hints of smoke” notation in the purveyor’s description—when I opened the tin, I actually reared my head back at the Charge of the Smoke Fumes. (I can only imagine the Attack of Oliver Pluff’s Lapsang Brigade.)

However, liberated from captivity and steeped with a light hand, the smoke dissipates and the caramel and oak notes do make their presence known. It’s downright appropriate for the cool and cloudy weather today, and has the potential, with some additives (maple syrup?) to be bracing and comforting when winter comes to Valley Forge.

I have forgotten who needs to be credited for my little sample of Bonfire Toffee—I will ponder and make amends soon. With that said, this is a very, very cool combination of smoke and cider that doesn’t like burnt bacon. Enjoying in my office, but I may take the last teaspoon home so I can try with milk.

Now we’re talking. A little fruity, a little coppery, a little woody, and strong enough to jump out of the tumbler on its own. (1 1/2 teaspoons to 16 oz.) Added a little milk to get the ranks back in order and it was absolutely delicious.

Those of you who recall terriharplady’s Steepster posts know she often used musical adjectives to characterize a tea. Normally, I gravitate to baritones and basses—dark and deep. Braveheart is a brassy second tenor with lungs like Pavarotti.

(Oh, jeepers…that just completely derailed my train of thought…off to go find a tea that tastes like Rod Stewart or Joe Bonamassa….)

White tea never makes my shopping list due to my strong preferences for the strong black stuff. However, the search for the perfect strawberry tea continues, so when we saw a sample pack of Strawberry White, I caved and brought it home.

Usually, my first white tea internal comment is “where’s the tea?” But in this case, I picked up on faintly grassy, not-quite-flowery tasting whiffs, and the strawberry shards provided delicate hints of the real thing, not candy flavor.

I even ventured into a second steep and tossed in a couple extra freeze-dried strawberry slices of my own. The whiffs have petered out to skiffs and wisps, but both the leaf and the fruit are still detectible, even to my barbarian palate.

Definitely too refined for me to crave on a frequent basis, but when there’s a little time to be thoughtful about what I’m drinking, this will be a nice break from heavier fall and winter fare.

For a Day Out (we get them rarely, so it deserves capitalization), we did a run to Northwest Arkansas yesterday. Highway 12 slithers like a snake through tree tunnels for miles until you find an off-road that leads to War Eagle Mill, a working flour mill with folksy gifts and coarse ground cornmeal for sale. The way back always includes a detour to a picnic area on Beaver Lake—on a Tuesday, it was deliciously silent. We watched minnows do laps around the dock and a bald eagle do laps around the lake.

Um…tea. Oh, yeah.

Eventually, you have to drive back into civilization with some upscale big-city shopping venues, including Savoy Tea. We hadn’t been in the shop since before the plague, and it’s been streamlined—instead of a tea parlor vibe with curlicues and frills, it’s leaner and cleaner and looks like a tea lab.

However, the Great Wall of Tea is just as much fun as it ever was with little sample sniffy jars and we brought home a nice little cache, including these dragon balls, beautiful little dark-and-gold orbs.

The scent of the steeped cup this morning was so promising I expected eye-rolling pleasure, but due to operator error (I over-watered and under-balled), the melba toast flavor I expected was only barely detectible, even though the texture was nice and satiny on the tongue. Eh, there’s always tomorrow!

This is a buried treasure sample packet that, now that I’ve sampled it, I regret leaving it buried so long! Nice, smooth satiny texture, and it’s one of the fruitiest-flavored unflavored blacks I’ve tasted in a long while. Dark, dark cherry and a little wood essence. A nice surprise on a “why-do-I-have-to-get-out-of-bed?” morning.

Tried it with milk for the first time this morning. Yes, I’m slow to the party. (I’ll just stand over here in the corner and not make any noise.) But I’m glad you invited me—just a small splash makes the lemon and caramel flavors pop nicely! This is bergamot done properly.

I truly don’t know how old my few remaining scraps of Foxtrot are…but it still has a little spring in its step. Chamomile and rooibos (and it never seemed to be obnoxiously roo-ie in this blend) with a little mint to give it some lilt and a little vanilla to provide some natural sweetness that doesn’t coat your tongue like licorice.

Foxtrot was one of my first “fancy” tea buys—oh, mercy—in the mid 90’s, maybe? (No, what I’m drinking isn’t from the first batch!) But Adagio has done well to keep it in their lineup as a nightcap staple.

(Do I get points for a complimentary review ? ;)

I’ve worked my way through nearly a full box of Juniper Mint Honey since the first of the year, but gave it a summer hiatus—the honey didn’t appeal to me on ice.

However, the honey, which is the aspect I care for the least in the trio, is downright pleasant tonight. I’ve got a cup sitting next to me, windows open, and the cool breeze is blowing honey scent my way. Were it not for the mint and juniper to cool it down, I’d say it reminded of sweet and sticky baklava.

Recommended if you want an inexpensive change of pace from conventional lemony-minty herbal nightcaps.