1329 Tasting Notes
Came across the last bit of this, about a half spoon’s worth, in my Project Sipdown basket. Ok, one of my Project Sipdown baskets. Added Capital Teas Ltd’s Keemun Classic to make up the spoon. Smooth with the slightest hint of apple and whisper of vanilla.
Perfect. Especially after a day or two of tropical fruit and jasmine tea, I had been looking forward to a cup of simple and no-nonsense tea.
And it’s a sipdown!
This is such a joyful tea, especially so in these dark grey November days.
True passion fruit with jasmine trailing behind. Jasmine overtakes the passion fruit as it cools. There may be hints of pineapple tartness here as well.
As this is a green black blend, I steeped with cooler water as for green. I’ve been doing my own version of flash steeping. One heaping DT’s perfect spoon, fast steeps under two minutes in and out of my Libre.
When I first began trying French teas, I found them far too perfumey floral in general. This is not that. Both the fruit and the jasmine smell and taste real.
The layering of the flavours is quite remarkable. A masterful blend.
Also, this does not seem to do well in a travel mug. The continued heat dissipates the passion fruit and muddles the jasmine. Still tasty, but not as nuanced as intended.
Happy Day of Thanks to those celebrating today. I am grateful for all of you, my tea friends.
I have a new mail person. Where I live, there’s a glass windowed enclosed veranda with a door and then there’s a front door with a mail slot. Not complicated, really. Confusing things is that my adjoining neighbours—yeah, those— have a mail slot on the outside, leading to their locked verandah.
In the past while, I’ve found mail outside on the front doorstep, wedged in the verandah door, on the floor of the verandah. Great.
A few days ago, I found a package delivery notice stuffed among some flyers. Instead of finding the package here, I need to go pick it up. All good. It forces me to take that 45-plus minute walk. I’ve been a lazy lump, so all good.
Bundled up and pulled my empty trolley to the designated post office. The woman manning the counter must’ve been new too. I gave her the delivery notice and then realized that I hadn’t brought official ID. I pulled out some utility bills with my name and address. I showed her my gym membership card with my photo on it. I presented my personalized chequebook with my name and address. And nope.
How do I know that this is not my supervisor testing to see whether I follow the rules? Yeah, I’m sure they go to such lengths to check up on their employees.
I left with my empty trolley and unredeemed delivery notice.
I thought that in picking up a parcel, it’d be sufficient to prove who you were and where you live. I guess I was wrong. Or she was new and had something to prove.
Anyway, I was livid.
Thank goodness for delicious tea.
The aroma of the tea while steeping is divine fruit richness.
Mmm, stone fruit, berry, fig, cherry, smooth, maybe a bit of vanilla. Quite lovely.
I don’t know where the anise has disappeared to. Maybe age has turned it into malt and fruit. Or maybe there wasn’t any in my spoon.
It’s a damp gloomy day out there. Perfect for something like this.
Starting to feel that it’s time to begin to bundle up.
I thought it’d be nice to finish up the last of my milk in a chai, perhaps drizzled with a bit of honey. Could not find any chai tea, though I am certain there’s plenty. Somewhere.
This ancient one turned up and though green tea with milk is sacrilege, I thought it might be worth a try. Previous efforts yielded a far too spiced brew, so it might be chai-enough with milk. Emptied the packet, three heaping spoons worth, steeped the tea. And the milk had gone off.
Had no hopes for this cup and the resteep. Age. Far too much leaf. Far too much spice in the leaf if memory serves. I was expecting disaster.
Surprise! Black and unsweetened, this cup is better than I ever remember it being. There were a few white snowflake things in the leaf which add a bit of frosting to the roastiness, hint of spice, and green of the cup. Quite pleasant. Quite tasty.
One just never knows.
And I still have celebratory treats to gobble.
And it’s a sipdown!
The thing about living in a neighbourhood with at least five excellent bakeries and patisseries within a few blocks is that when the occasion calls for a treat or two, it’s hard to narrow your choices down.
I don’t eat pastries and cakes all that often. There were those months that I would buy one or two Portuguese custard tarts stuffed with Nutella every time I passed that bakery and then I was over it.
And then, maybe you remember, there was that almond croissant and pain au chocolat phase.
On my birthday, I felt that some sort of treat was in order. I stopped into French bakery, the owner is from somewhere in the south of France, and picked up a small gateau Basque tart. And some Pain Perdu, a cross between French toast and bread pudding, served with creme Anglaise like a vanilla cream custard sauce, and fresh fruit. And they threw in some home-baked cookies for my celebration.
Well, that pain perdu was humongous. I have been eating the slice for three days and finally it and its accompaniments are done.
I really was in the mood for a feisty no nonsense tea today. This fits the bill.
The cookies and the gateau Basque can wait for another day.