"Youngest" Send Message

As a tea barbarian, I’ve braved the slings and arrows of young adult life leaning on flavored teas prepared so recklessly and uncaringly as to taste less pleasant and complicated than the concerningly flavorful supply of tap water in which it was made. This is a sure way to forget what tea tastes like, why it should be consumed, or what the meaning of life may be. Changing that begins with two things, and those are, firstly, a tea whose only flavors are the ones god gave it, and secondly, the ultimate symbol of status and sophistication: one faithful Brita filter to moderate the charming savor of PFAs.

The vendor says 175F so that’s what I gave it. It’s just as agreeable at 200F. The actual weight of tea used is anybody’s guess, including my kitchen scale’s, which seems to be notably receptive to the suggestion of minor adjustments to the position of the leaves on it. “3 grams? Or maybe 4 grams. What do you think? I guess it could be 2. 5 grams if you insist.” Assuming the FDA isn’t stopping in for a cup, I imagine that will do fine.

This tea is delicious after steeping for 3 minutes, but it’s also delicious after steeping for 2 days, so there’s that. It brews up crisp and clear, revealing a mellow tint of marigold the longer you let it play. The understated aroma of citrus and spices is a preview of the taste – each sip a gentle cruise over smooth waters scintillating with unexpected sweetness. The whole, unbroken buds are delightfully soft before steeping, like eager little ferrets in silky cashmere sweaters. I never strain these out because they’re a playfully bitter and irresistibly tender little snack, and anyway it would be a crime not to challenge this tea in all its forms through its own veritable Crucible of steeping abuses like a fresh recruit of the United States Marine Corps. I have a feeling this tea would come through just fine if you steeped it in a grease fire.

A tea as numbingly uncomplicated and unflavorful as life itself right now, and consumed just as habitually and mindlessly. I collected a bountiful supply of tea courtesy of ashmanra, and this has been my first sipdown project of the year coinciding with the return to academics. I’m one week deep in another semester and watching Cells at Work because one of my professors is a giant weeb and this has awoken a suppressed part of me that also desires to be but without success.

This tea brews a little dark. Steepster recommends a steeping time of four minutes, but the packaging recommends two to three and I personally tear off the string and plop the bag in the cup indefinitely because I’m a neanderthal. I can only touch so many wet strings before it starts to get old, okay. Speaking of wet strings, I just discovered I inadvertently steeped one of the drawstrings of my pajama pants in my tea because my room is so cold that I wedge my warm teacups in my lap or inside my hoodies to sustain me.

As for the tea itself, it doesn’t stand out as anything special. I identify pear in the aroma more than in the flavor. It’s drying, insubstantial, and not very receptive to resteeping. I drank several cups of this one night after a period of time in which I drank very little tea and I was wired for all but maybe two hours of the night. We’ve had some wild times, but I’ll be happy to move on from this tea and on to more enjoyable blends that taste less like pajama pants.