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In my last tasting note for this, I noted that I absent-mindedly used less than half the recommended amount of dry tea. This time I used the correct amount, about two and a half times what I used last time. I brewed it for two minutes, again – boiling water.

It made a dark brown, very slightly yellowish infusion, intense enough in colour to be pretty much opaque.

This is seriously weird. I’m not getting anything much in the way of aroma and little more in the way of variety of flavour: in the mouth there’s the basic tea element, which is now very slightly bitter – I think I’ve brewed it too strong – and just the tiniest hint of chocolate. And that’s it – a real disappointment after last time’s absolutely heavenly brew of this stuff.

I’m just baffled by this – I’ve even gone to the length of going outside to breath fresh air deeply through the nose for a minute or so, to make sure my head is quite clear, but it makes no difference.

I’m making a second infusion, two minutes again.

It’s a little less intense in colour and I get a faint metallic hint and touch of the pizza dough in the nose.

In the mouth there’s now possibly a little grass and a little butter, and that bitterness is no longer noticeable. As the tea is cooling, there may be the tiniest hint of vanilla coming in. It’s pleasant enough, but nothing special, still.

I’m quite bemused about this – how can 1g of tea taste so much better than 2.5g? The dry tea is so distinctive in appearance that it’s quite impossible for me to have got the wrong tea today or last time – they’re definitely both the same tea.

Well, I’m even less ready to rate this. I now, of course, have to make another brew with the lesser amount; to be sure that it’s the tea and not, somehow, me. I shall do that later – I’m tea-full at the moment.

I actually got it a bit wrong with this.

The instructions are for 1g per 100ml, which is, for my mugs, normally a well-heaped teaspoon, which is about 2.5g. The trouble is, this is so coarse and long and straggly in the dry that I couldn’t handle it with the spoon. So I used my fingers and weighed it on the kitchen scales. The trouble was that I absent-mindedly weighed out 1g instead of 2.5g.

Here’s the strange thing: it made an excellent cup of tea – I mean really, really excellent.

It made a quite intense clear-brown infusion and didn’t look at all too weak for a black tea.

The aroma is a little odd – it seems to change. I sniff it and get that pastry dough or pizza base aroma; but another sniff will get a beautiful, grassy, perfumey, flowery aroma.

In the mouth, there is what immediately struck me as a ‘garden’ element. I mean the ‘lawns and flower beds type’ garden. It’s that warm evening perfume of damp lawns and mixed flowers, especially if there are a few lilies in the garden. There’s just enough good basic tea to it, and there’s a toffee or butter element adding body and smoothness.

Is it over the top to describe a tea as ‘sensuous’? I’ve got into a habit of describing teas as either ‘delicate’, as with Darjeelings, or ‘robust’ as with a Lapsang Souchong; but neither seems to fit, here. It seems on the delicate side, but it’s full-on and seductive, rather than delicate and refined. I’m now sorry that I used that ‘Theda Bara of teas’ crack about the Turzum ‘Muscatel Dream’ because it would fit much better here.

I made a second infusion – same way.

It was a little lighter in colour and I thought the aroma was now more grass than flower.

The flavour is still pretty good, but different. The basic tea element has developed a little toastiness, bringing it more to the fore; the floweriness is reined back a bit and it’s a little more grassy. Having mentioned the Turzum ‘Muscatel Dream’, above, it strikes me that this second infusion could very easily be the first infusion of a good Darjeeling – it’s that sort of flavour.

I made a third infusion – same way. This was too many and the tea was much less intense in colour and rather lacking in flavour.

I’m not going to rate this at the moment. I’ll wait till another day when I’ve used the correct amount of dry tea. Having said that, it was so excellent as it was that it hardly seems worth the bother of trying a larger amount.

These are my notes for the day before yesterday:

I used a well-heaped teaspoon steeped for two minutes, boiling water. The tea hadn’t completely waterlogged and sunk at the end: the instructions are for one infusion; but, I suspect there’s another one there.

In the mug it’s a moderately intense brown, with a slightly yellowish tinge.

In the nose I get a faint combination of the smells of nettles and of straw, plus a little basic tea and a slight hint of uncooked pastry-dough.

In the mouth I get good basic tea and the straw and nettles smells elements again. It hasn’t got that grass or hay sweetness, but it’s not particularly bitter or astringent – it’s clean and firm without being that. There’s something else in there that’s difficult to pin down: it’s a hint of a bite, but not so much a peppery bite as nearer to dried raisins or currants – it’s just a tiny hint in the background, noticeable as the tea cools.

Bearing in mind what I said about thinking there was another infusion in there, I made one – steeping for two and three-quarter minutes. The tea was surprisingly good and not noticeably weaker, similar to the last cup but with the addition, perhaps, of the tiniest hint of vanilla. I’m now thinking that, if the sellers are only recommending one infusion, I might have given the original infusion a bit longer than their recommended two minutes.

Just for an experiment, I tried another infusion. It’s still good. It’s less intense in colour and in flavour, but it’s a little more buttery, and, I think, a little more grassy.

These are yesterday’s notes:

I made a mug today with a well-heaped teaspoon, boiling water, and this time, bearing in mind all the infusions I was able to get yesterday, I brewed for three minutes.

It was the same intense but clear brown in the mug.

I’m not sure I get the same straw and nettles in the nose; there’s the pastry dough – or, perhaps, pizza base – and, now, a metallic touch.

In the mouth it’s harder and firmer and less sweet and I think three minutes was probably too long. This surprises me a little after all yesterday’s infusions without that happening. I must try two and a half minutes for next time’s first infusion. I’m sort of getting the straw and grass thing but it’s varied a little towards something like the flavour of digestive biscuits but without the sweetness.. As the level is falling and the tea cooling, I think the flavour is getting a little more intense and a little less firm and hard – or, perhaps, my taste buds are just getting used to it.

I made a second infusion but forgot it and let it steep for twenty-four minutes. It wasn’t anything like as bad as one might suspect, but not really to be recommended.

I made a fresh mug with a well-heaped teaspoon, this time brewing for two and a half minutes.

I think I hit this one spot on.

It has a good, noticeable aroma to it, the straw and nettles and pizza base, plus, perhaps, the tiniest touch of grassiness.

In the mouth it has the straw and nettles and the digestive biscuits, plus the tiniest hint of cut grass and that tiny bite – I described it above as ‘not so much a peppery bite as nearer to dried raisins or currants’, but now I’m thinking there’s a hint of sage to it.

The whole thing adds up to a refreshing and characterful tea, nearer to the ‘delicate’ side than the ‘robust’, but a little more robust than the typical tea of this type, I think.

I made a second infusion, two and a half minutes again, and I really can’t spot much difference – it’s the equal to the first, I think.

These are today’s notes:

I made a brew today with a well-heaped teaspoon and steeped for three minutes – I’d intended two and a half, but let it run over while I was checking through my (mostly junk) mail.

So it should have been a little too ‘hard’, like yesterday. It wasn’t; it was pretty good – but different to yesterday.

It has a doughy aroma with a hint of grass.

In the mouth it has good basic tea and, this time, has more than a hint of butter – it’s a definite element, giving a mellow smoothness and I’m not sure if it hasn’t the tiniest hint of chocolate to it – I mean a smooth milk chocolate, not one with any bitterness. There’s the tiniest hint of sage and thyme underneath. The flavour definitely gets a little stronger as the tea cools.

I’ve made a second infusion, this time managing to hit the two and a half minutes. It’s no weaker but slightly different in that, this time, there’s the addition of that ‘smell of nettles’ hint, both in the nose and the mouth.

This business of a tea altering from day to day makes me wonder if it’s my taste buds are altering; but it’s only with Darjeelings that I’m really aware of it happening – don’t know what to make of that. I’m fairly sure it’s the teas that are altering, not me, but I wouldn’t want to swear to it.

Anyway, as is evident from all the woffle above, I’m finding this a fascinating tea. It’s quite seductive – you start off being cool and objective, then you’ve fallen under the spell and find yourself cajoled and forced into giving a high rating – a Theda Bara of teas.

ETA – Since I posted the level in the cup has got half-way down and the tea cooled noticeably, and the aroma and flavour have most definitely got more intense – it’s well-worth having the patience to let it cool a little.

ETA, again – I made a third infusion – it may have been fraction weaker but it was still a delightful cup of tea. This one will definitely stand a second and third infusion.

I made a mug of this with a heaped teaspoon, brewed for two and a half minutes, with the water allowed to go off the boil for several minutes.

In the mug it’s a dark brown brew, fairly opaque, but from intensity of colour, not cloudiness.

In the nose, I get a faint hint of pizza base and faint basic tea.

In the mouth, it doesn’t seem to have the sweetness of so many oolongs. There’s basic tea and something between butter and toffee, but neither very strong.

I’d describe this as quite an ordinary tea – nothing special about it. If I was given the cup without knowing what it was, I’d assume it was a black tea and, in fact, preparing it at such a low temperature feels ‘wrong’ to me.

The seller info doesn’t actually mention multiple infusions, but as it’s an oolong …

… I brewed a second infusion, same time and temperature.

In the mug it’s a little less intense in colour: a clear, slightly orange, dark brown.

In the nose it’s a little ‘cleaner’, having a slightly metallic addition to the pizza base.

In the mouth it’s, if anything, even more astringent – I’m, perhaps, using the wrong word here; I don’t mean mouth-puckering astringency, but something that really counters sweetness. Yet the basic tea and the butter-stroke-toffee elements are weaker; though there may be just the slightest hint of good, sweet hay (though ‘sweet’ doesn’t seem the right adjective in the context). That all sounds as if the brew is more complex and satisfying but, really, it’s blander. I’m still getting that impression of ‘wrongness’ – it just doesn’t ‘feel’ correct to be brewing this at a lower than boiling point temperature.

I brewed a third infusion, same way. The tea didn’t actually seem any weaker. The only difference to the last infusion was that the hint of hay had been replaced by a more grassy hint.

I brewed a fourth infusion, same way. This is weaker, plus paler in colour and I think I’ve gone one infusion further than the tea will take.

Bearing in mind what I said above about this not feeling right at the lower temperature, I brewed a fresh mug with boiling water, using a well-heaped teaspoon and steeping for three minutes.

In the mug it is an intense, dark brown, quite opaque in its intensity of colour with patches of oily film on the surface.

In the nose I’m getting touches of hay, pizza base and, perhaps, the tiniest hint of liquorice.

In the mouth there is good basic tea with touches of butter and an ‘unsweet’ hay or grass and perhaps the tiniest hint of liquorice.

I’d describe this as a reasonable, reasonably robust, black tea – though not one particularly to my taste – but not as an oolong. This strikes me as a tea to be drunk by the mug with your bacon and eggs for breakfast rather than one to be reverently sipped after brewing up in a gaiwan or yixing teapot.

I’ve just had a fresh batch of this, after being without it for some time, and I’m just drinking my first mug – a well-heaped teaspoon brewed for four minutes, boiling water.

It isn’t really much different to my last tasting notes except that, where I wrote of the taste of warm butter, I now think that element is better described as a touch of toffee.

It’s just as excellent as the last batch and really is one of my three, possibly four, all-time favourites.

Incidentally, I’ve edited the dealer information above but I don’t know how to edit the name of tea – it should be ‘Natela’ with an ‘e’.

This is one of a Pu Erh sample collection I had from the dealer. I’m not sure if the dried chips in it are orange or orange peel or both; but it smells strongly of orange.

I used a moderately-heaped teaspoonful and brewed for five and a half minutes; the instructions are for ‘up to five’ but I lost track of the time – it doesn’t seem to have done any harm. This resulted in an intensely dark, black-brown brew, quite opaque but because of the density of colour, not from cloudiness, with a slight oiliness on the surface.

Surprisingly, given the smell of the dry tea, it does not smell strongly of orange: I’m getting a faint smell of orange and a little stronger than faint earthiness (in the garden soil sense).

Similarly, in the mouth, there’s an earthy taste, not very strong, and just a hint of something between orange and orange peel. It may be simply just the combination of these two flavours, but I’m possibly getting the tiniest hint of liquorice. There’s a slight firmness in the flavour, possibly the result of the bitterness of orange peel – just the tiniest hint and the overall flavour is not bitter. Although it’s what I would characterise as a quite robust brew, I’m not getting that much in the way of the basic tea flavour and the result of that is that I’m not getting that ‘satisfying’ feel from drinking it.

For me, it’s an ‘okay’ sort of brew – pleasant enough, but not one I’m going to buy again.

I made a mug of this with a heaped teaspoon brewed for three minutes – boiling water.

It was a medium intensity red-brown colour in the mug. I didn’t get a lot of aroma – a hint of rust.

I struggled a bit to describe the flavour, though I found it very pleasant. There was some of the proper, generic, tea flavour; there was butter, giving a pleasant smoothness to it; there was also a fruity, ‘bright’ element in there that I found difficult to place – the dealer’s description mentions an “almost ‘Muscatel’ fragrance and aftertaste” so perhaps it was a hint of that I was detecting – it could well have been a hint of grape juice.

I found this a very enjoyable tea.

I made this first with a moderately-heaped teaspoon steeped for two and a half minutes, the instructions being for two to three. I wasn’t too impressed so I made the next with a well-heaped teaspoon brewed for three minutes.

I got a little hint of rust or metal in the aroma.

There was a tiny hint of that rust/metal in the flavour, as well. Otherwise the flavour was just basic tea – good basic tea, though. I didn’t get any complexity to the flavour, though.

I’d describe this as a simple, old-fashioned cup of tea – a good cup of tea but nothing at all special.

I made a mug of this with a heaped teaspoon brewed for three minutes – boiling water. This one was not on the instruction sheet and I made it first thing in the morning before I had the computer up and running, so I hadn’t realised that the tasting notes on the website give a steeping time of six minutes. However, there were still a few strands of tea not sunk when I removed the filter.

This brew was not very noteworthy. There was basic tea flavour, not very strong, and a slight hint of something giving a very little smooth richness, difficult to describe, not chocolate – if one could imagine a flavour somewhere between chocolate and a good beef or lamb gravy, but definitely one flavour, not two elements. There was also the tiniest ‘bite’, again difficult to describe, perhaps the ghost of a hint of white pepper.

It was a very attractive colour, though: an intense, clear red-brown leaning very much to the red side.

So I made the next mug of this brewed for six minutes, but this turned out to be slightly stale-tasting – steeped too long.

Then I tried four and a half minutes and this was okay but not really much of an improvement on three minutes.

So I’d describe this as an ‘okay’ sort of tea but nothing really special.

I tried a mug of this with a heaped teaspoon – it’s fine-grained so doesn’t heap very high – steeped for three and a half minutes – instructions say three to four.

It made a red-brown brew – not cloudy but so intensely coloured as to be almost, but not quite, opaque.

It had a good basic tea flavour with a metallic hint. There was a slightly ‘hard’ edge to it that I found unpleasant – rather like staleness but not quite that. It made me think that -possibly three and a half minutes was too long.

So I brewed another mug for just three minutes, but used an extra half-teaspoon of tea.

It had a slight aroma with elements of straw and sweat. Nothing special in the mouth: it had good basic tea but that hint of ‘staleness’ again.

Not one I’m going to buy again.