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Another sample I might not have selected for myself. I like Earl Grey when it doesn’t taste like soap, and I like it even more when it doesn’t taste like soap and has a little extra something added to balance out the bergamot. This works perfectly. The orange isn’t overpowering or bitter and complements the traditional Earl Grey blend. It also adapted well to imperfect work steeping parameters—another plus.

The most upscale of our local health food grocers keeps a basket of sample goodies by the counter, and this was in it…probably wouldn’t have sprung for an entire canister of what, at least from the ingredient listing, looks like a garden-variety nightcappy blend.

But tonight, I’m tired inside and out and glad to have this on hand. Just enough rooibos and rose to tone and sweeten the lavender and chamomile. Nothing unusual or unique, but nicely balanced.

As unflavored decaf teas go, this isn’t a Range Rover, but it isn’t my 1972 AMC Hornet with an air conditioner drip that got my feet wet, either. Let’s just call it a reliable Buick sedan. It isn’t powerful or punchy, but neither is it weak and soapy like a lot of grocery-shelf decaf options. Suitable for evenings when you just want a goof-proof warm cup that won’t contribute to insomnia.

Thank you, Canadian friends, for the cold front you pushed all the way down to southern Missouri! I may not be quite as gracious come January, but we had a bona fide autumn rainy day yesterday and it was delicious.

So was the sipdown of this seasonal rooibos blend. I’ll stand by my prior comments that it doesn’t taste like pecan pie. That said, the nuts and calendula are a nice, smooth complement to conventional rooibos.

Beautiful fall sneak-preview day at Shabby House, rain cleaning the dust off my red bell pepper plant, temps in the upper 60’s. It feels so good to swap out to less summery tea flavors! (Not quite ready for pumpkin and gingerbread, but it won’t be long.)

I brought a macaron tea bag out of seasonal retirement today and remembered why it doesn’t get a lot of airplay around here: this flavor is touchy. Vanilla and cinnamon, perfect for the weather; the mate gets bitter if you oversteep, which I did. Milk covers a multitude of mistakes. I’ll just have a spoonful at the ready next time.

One finds interesting things when one cleans out the garage to make space for more junk (long story). In this case, we unearthed a small Rubbermaid tub of perfectly sealed Bigelow tea boxes husband ordered eons ago and did not notify me of their existence. I’ve got enough Ginger Snappish to take a bath in.

We’re still in the throes of killer August heat—no winter hot toddies here—so I threw some bags in a Mason jar in the fridge to see what would happen. Surprisingly acceptable flat ginger ale!

We got caught in a quick but intense surprise thunderstorm and came in soaked and shivering in the air conditioning. After not drinking anything hot for days, a hot cuppa finally feels good!

Until now, I’d been using these petite little barley teabags for fridge steeping. Now I think I’ve found their sweet spot. Fresh and hot, the “elderly bag of cattle feed” vibe is less pronounced and in its place, sweet, fresh-cut alfalfa hay. (If you’re a city kid, you really need to visit a farm and smell stuff. It’ll broaden your tea review vocabulary!)

Either this tea is persnickety or I am. In a 12 ounce mug, it isn’t strong enough to suit me. But today was a good opportunity to work with a different water proportion: now that the weather is alternating between “popcorn popper” and “hair dryer,” I’m barely through a tiny cup of hot tea before I switch to iced. In an 8 ounce mug, the scent is lovely and malty, but it’s now abusively astringent. Milk next time.

I thought teas carrying the Royal Warrant were goof-proof. This one reminds me of Henry VIII…can’t make up his mind.

Some recent conversations about barley tea and the onset of beastly hot weather made me hunt some down. No luck locally, so I added a bag to an Amazon order and it arrived just before the thermometer hit 100 this weekend.

It had been years since I’d sampled barley tea, so I had no particular brand or specifications in mind. This is just as I remember it—a little sweet, wheaty, and nutty; excellent cold. (As a matter of fact, I haven’t tried it hot at all.) The tagless bags seem a little bit dinky, but two of them in a pint jar in the fridge overnight are adequate.

If the packet lasts till fall, I can envision it as a lovely hot nightcap with honey.

One never appreciates a quiet house quite so much as the evening following VBS Family Night, which we celebrated with an ear-splitting interactive show akin to Nickelodeon Double Dare or Slime Time Live. Nine-year-old girls can hit a note two octaves above treble clef E that could slice metal. (I loved my little pod of seven kids and nothing you do for children is ever wasted. It was a good week.)

But my private end-of-week celebration is much quieter tonight with a nice cup of this summery blend I found by accident at one of our pricier local natural food stores. It’s my second attempt: I steeped the first cup and put it in the fridge to chill, which ended up in a cold half-pint of artificial honey flavor.

This round, I was more attentive to water temp and scanty with time (pulled it just before three minutes) and it’s much better. Honey and vanilla, yes; but the subtle tangerine that I could barely detect in the cold version isn’t overwhelmed this time around.