"Youngest" Send Message

I told myself I would save this tea for another day, but lies wear many robes. This robe looked like a spontaneous trip to Target (where I also told myself I would buy NO TREATS!) to take my mind off the tin of plump, happy buds waiting for me. Inevitably, I would get home and allow an ample three minutes for me to sink back again into the depths of boredom and ultimately give in to temptation. What can I say? I can’t resist a snappy dresser.

In the dry buds I immediately noticed a bright aroma that caused me to say out loud in disbelief, “Coriander? Is that you?”. (I consulted my kitchen spice rack for confirmation – I can hardly recognize my old friend.) This largely dissipates into a nose that is more vegetal and floral as it steeps, but the spark is somewhat retained in the wet, tough buds, which have a strikingly bitter taste. Though the vendor listing predicts a thin, diminutive body likened to water for the steep – by no means a bad thing in my book – its arrival is accompanied by a certain, faint, buttery quality that sits sweetly on the tongue long after it’s swallowed.

Ordinarily I approach “vegetal” descriptors with caution, as they’re not my favorite with respect to teas, but as a recent and a zealous convert to the Cult of Cabbage, I profess to some partiality on behalf of your commentator, and I find it to be balanced and mild otherwise. Perhaps that will change as I let it steep into infinity. Additionally, the flavor of the buds is so pronounced in comparison to the tea itself that it seems unfair to consume them together, so I might strain this one in the future to give it a fighting chance.

For the second steep, time to put the screws on Chinese Silver Needle. I subjected it to 200F and was rewarded with a much more uniformly saccharine profile. On the other hand, the steeped buds persist in being unbearable – blech!