Adagio Custom Blends, Sami Kelsh

MAN. You know when you have a job, and you have interviews for other jobs, but you’re not telling this to anyone at your job for obvious reasons? Does anybody else feel like they’re being unfaithful when this happens? Because I sort of got offered a job that I started this week, and I’m signing the paperwork and what have you for Friday, but I had an interview yesterday for another job, and another tomorrow, and then another next Thursday, and I feel more than a little sheepish that I might bail out of this place less than 2 weeks after I started there, potentially. And I mean, notice period’s supposed to be 4 weeks, but if I’ve literally been there under a month, can they really enforce it? Because GOODNESS KNOWS I AM NOT STAYING IN A PART-TIME £11,000 A YEAR JOB IF SOMEBODY OFFERS ME FULL-TIME AND £24,000. Because I’m skint. And I could really use, you know, an actual income, so I can, you know, stay alive. But still. It’s going to be a ballache to have to recruit/train another person at such short notice, so I feel like a dick for not calling off my job search. But dammit, a girl’s gotta eat.

And drink tea. Caffeine-free, because I’m still getting over plague, and soothingly orangey and honey and sweet and cozy. What a good tea.

Fun fact: Since I moved into my flat in May, I’ve been carrying my housekeys precariously in my pockets, in constant fear of losing them. I guess mainly because it’s not a priority to buy a key fob until I’m actually desperately fishing around in the bottom of my overstuffed pockets at my doorstep. And then, last weekend, Gentleman bought me one! And it’s K-9. I’m the happiest nerd in the world.

You’re a good tea, K-9. Yes you are! The scent in the bag is that of soft citrus and a subtle, almost honeyed sweetness that’s nearly reminiscent of a soft buttery sponge cake sandwiched with marmalade. The orange is bright upfront, while the mango follows, adding a really lovely depth, softened by vanilla. Smooth and comforting, with a lovely creamy mouthfeel. K-9 would probably note my silliness, but it’s genuinely an altogether delightful brew, worthy of the best robot dog that ever there was.

The bad news: I have come down with man-flu. Gentleman and I are not feeling too fabulous today. I can, mercifully, still taste this tea, as it’s one of my cozy, cuddly favourites. So oatmeal-y and soft and warm with no bitterness. Joy.

The good news: thanks to the good people at Cultbox, I spent today on the set of the Doctor Who Christmas special. I can’t go into any detail at all as it’s under embargo until nearer the airdate, but had the opportunity to interview a number of actors, and while I was there spent a while chatting to the executive producer, met the episode’s director on set and got to see some very interesting things being filmed, and Peter Capaldi said hi to me. SWOON. So yeah. Good day. Eternally grateful to my press buddy Blogtor for hooking me up with the gig, and for the good folks at the BBC for being such gracious hosts. Heavens to betsy.

Tuesday night is comedy club night, and this night, I baked an unintentionally rhyming sticky toffee cardamom coffee cake. Which was GORGEOUS. And as also befits comedy night, I find myself feeling oddly depressed. Every Tuesday. It’s my worst day of the week. So I’m drinking this because it comforts me like none other.

Jamie McCrimmon tastes like a cuddle. The leaves yield a gentle fragrance of almond and oatmeal, and look lovely as well: a harmonious collection of warm brown. The flavour is soft, quietly sweet without overpowering, with hints of highland oatmeal, a smooth almond finish, and a round, creamy mouthfeel. A loyal, dependable brew, as comforting as a warm cling. It makes me feel safe and warm.

Had this as a cold-brew on the train home from Cardiff today after 8 or so hours’ brewing in a water bottle in my purse. Makes a really refreshing cold-brew, this one, with a good balance of citrus and mint and hibiscus, and I’m sure it probably helped hold off the onset of the ridiculousness that’s now plaguing my sinuses until I was finished with the day’s business. Though I do have to remember that if I’m going to cold-brew this one, that if I leave the bits floating around in the bottle (as I usually do), I’m likely to ingest most of the littler bits of peppermint and lemon verbena and stuff as I go.

Thankfully, I’m not too fussed about bits!

Zoe’s bright, all right. The fragrance of mint and fruit are brisk and refreshing in the bag, and sparkle with all the appeal of an especially fetching futuristic glittery silver jumpsuit. You know the one I’m talking about. Yep. Brisk, bright, and balanced are definitely the operative words here. The flavour begins with tart hibiscus and orange, followed closely by a wave of mint, and a soft, slightly lingering ripe fruit finish. Works well at any temperature from piping hot to ice cold, and any variation in between. There is no more refreshing combination of flavours in the known universe than hibiscus, citrus, and mint – it’s only logical that it would be the perfect blend for someone as brilliant and awesome as Zoe.

This blend reminds me of the tea my grandmother used to make in generous quantities in her sunny kitchen. I’d chug it by the gallon whenever I could. My grandmother is a seriously incredible woman.

In other news, I have a job interview this week! It ain’t even approaching full-time or anything, but anything to keep me slightly more afloat (read: slightly less in ever-increasing debt) until a real job comes along is something, yes?

Oh Peri, you peachy, wholesome wonder! I genuinely don’t know how to describe this without using the word wholesome. It’s so good with a bit of sugar and milk and it tastes like liquid breakfast. SO FLIPPING WHOLESOME.

And while I drink this tea, I reflect on the million crazy things all happening to me at once. Two job interviews (one first interview, the other I’ve been shortlisted from the initial round of interviews and asked back for a second) for positions I’d LOVE to be doing (and the pay raise is nothing to shake a stick at either) and two job offers (both of which are less than ideal in terms of hours/money but anything’s better than being a temp forever). All in the space of like a week and a half. And I’ve got a thing in a book coming out and I just got some news about a creative work-related gig that I can’t say anything at all about but OH MY GOSH IS A VERY GOOD ASSIGNMENT INDEED. So that’s all pretty dandy!

BUT. Because I’m technically still a temp, regardless of my salary or the months I’ve now been in steady and regular employ working within the university, because I’m a temp, my application was rejected by the people who do the vetting of potential tenants for the folks who manage the flat we’re moving into in a few weeks. Well, ISN’T THAT JUST WIZARD. We’ve managed to sort out a workaround that involves us putting in more money upfront than we can strictly afford, but seriously. Apparently regardless of how much income I’m actually taking home, for so long as I’m technically a temp, I can’t be trusted to live anywhere. Even with someone who’s making enough on his own to cover rent. Ferchrissakes! TOO MANY THINGS cries

There’s been a lot of talk about peach tea today, so I had to get in on the peach action.

This tea genuinely tastes like something you’d drink if you feel most comfortable in shorts. Seriously. This is one, I’ve found, where the fragrance of the leaves really doesn’t deviate from the scent of the brewed tea: something about the combination here reminds me most of a peach-flavoured muesli. Like, I remember that Fruit and Fibre had a peach variation? It was like that. The bright, sweet peach is grounded by a subtle nuttiness that doesn’t so much stand out as a flavour in itself, but rather serves to tie the peach and oolong together. Deadpan, but definitely a bit of fun, fruity without being overwhelmingly so, surprisingly wholesome. Subtle sweetness, equally good with and without milk. I might have this again for breakfast in the morning because it’s just so wholesome.

Jetlag is just barely starting to lift, after a decent (but not awesome) night’s sleep last night, and that nap I took while curled up beneath my desk at work yesterday… Guess I should now think about the pile of jobs I have to do in the next few weeks. Ugh.

Enjoyed a cup of Barbara blend with my soup last night. This one is one of my very all-time favourites, ever. Cinnamony almondy chocolaty warmness in cozy abundance, and never stops being delicious. SO GOOD.

Well, I accidentally closed the window where I’d writtten but not posted a long, loving review about this tea, so the condensed version:

Almond, chocolate, cinnamon. Yum. One of my favourites of all time ever. Also, sent a story I’ve been agonising over to the editor today, and yeah. You’ll be hearing more about that on Monday when I’m, like, allowed to talk about it.

Brave, warm, brilliant Barbara. This is one of the most comforting things I’ve ever had, at all, in the world. The dried leaves are heavy with a rich, inviting fragrance highly reminiscent of marzipan and dark chocolate. Brewing it brings the chocolate further forward, and just a whisper of cinnamon makes itself known, all without ever forgetting that there’s lovely Assam in there. A bold, well-balanced, level-headed brew with a warm heart. It really is glorious.

The flavour combination makes me so happy that this tea inspired the brownies I baked for this week’s XS Malarkey comedy club, and they were declared one of the best things I’ve ever baked. That comedy club is such a lovely little ego boost, I tell you.

Ok, so you know when you’ve been tasked with doing something and someone gives you a verbal bollocking for not doing it, but you did actually do it? Apparently, one of my flatmates is livid that I didn’t clean the house last weekend. Which I did do. Which involved spending my entire day off waiting to hoover up after a dude came round to replace our window after, you know, we were fucking burgled. But apparently the fact that the kitchen (which I never use) isn’t tidied AFTER I did the big weekly clean is my fault too. The good news is that presumably, I’ll be out of there in under 5 months’ time as I’m, you know, getting married to a nice person and we’ll probably want an entire flat to ourselves.

Let’s just… put the kettle on at Gentleman’s house (where no one is cross with me because, quelle surprise, yes I do actually clean up after myself, yeesh) and have a nice cuppa Ian Chesterton. Oh Sir Ian, I need your delicious, brisk and fruity strength today. Grumpy Sami is grumpy.

Today is a good day! Managed to salvage a big batch of gorgeous chewy vegan comedy night brownies (with cinnamon, almond, and tonka bean) into which I’d accidentally poured twice as much salt as I needed, and they’re even better than the original, and I applied for two jobs I’d be very good at and sent off a short story to (fingers crossed) be published an entire 4 minutes ahead of the deadline. So I’m settling down with a nice cuppa cardigan tea before I pass out.

In the bag, Ian smells like bright earl grey, flanked by a little extra fruit. Once it’s brewed, the apricot holds its own against the earl grey. Flavour-wise, it tows the line between brisk and cozy, with the bright apricot and earl grey notes rounded out by the background smoothness of the vanilla. It’s good old earl grey, only a little more fun, and definitely a little more badass. A highly intelligent brew that feels like a smart-fitting cardigan looks. Cardigan tea makes me happy.

It’s new Doctor Who night, so I figured something reasonably calming was in order.

It was good. I’m not feeling articulate enough to actually go through what I liked and didn’t about it. Gentleman and I are already reasonably confident we’ve guessed the twist.

I still really love the living heck out of this tea. You’d think it’d be a candidate for cold-brewing given the ingredients, but I just like it best hot, and what that brings out in it. It’s softly pear-ish and lightly sweet and sometimes you get a little spice coming through, and it manages to balance lightness and cozy. I’ll process my Who feels better after a good night’s sleep. Who’s seen it? Did you like it? Do you love Petey C? I think I’m in crush a bit.

And HAS SOMEBODY MADE A TWELVE TEA YET?

Wow, I sure have been remiss in my talking about the teas I’m drinking since I got back from LA. It’s been wacky. I’ve had a sore throat for, what, like 2 months now? My voice is shot, I still have no real job, my love life is a confusing jumble of feelings, but look out for my stupid face reacting to stuff in a major national television commercial whenever the heck it airs.

One of the words I seem to use most often to describe Romana is ‘flawless.’ Because my word, she really is superb. The dry leaves yield a fragrance redolent of soft pear, sweet and almost fluffy, like a white feathered cape, followed closely by a delicate suggestion of spice. In the cup, the scent of spice becomes more apparent. The tea has a delicate, light, and refreshing flavour, warmed by that slight undertone of spices, and a honeyed sweetness that works equally well sweetened or unsweetened. It’s also one of those teas that keeps being delicious at every temperature from piping hot to whoops-I-forgot-I-had-a-cup-of-tea cold. A little bit regal, a little bit playful, with a touch of sass. Flawless.

I have learned a valuable lesson: lapsang and my thermos do not mix. Good Gosh, I love this tea, with its warming spice and smoke cutting through a background of smooth dark chocolate, but it’s going to have to soak in warm water and a squirt of washing up liquid for the entire bank holiday weekend, lest whatever I decide to have on Tuesday morning taste like campfire. How the heck does a stainless steel thermos retain so much flavour? I honestly thought I’d be safe with stainless steel!

It was totally worth it, though.

And I decided to drink a cup of the Master to bring myself out of the Angry Stage of a very bad day indeed, because the Master understands my pain.

As far as drinking it goes, it’s intense. The most notable presences are spice and smoke, set against a backdrop of chocolate, with an almost buzzy texture contrasting with the intensity of the flavour. It’s definitely a brew that goes best, I think, with milk and sugar to complement its full-on sex appeal.

Also goes well with bitter feelings about the weather just HAVING to go crazy when you need to travel, and feeling like you’re probably going to die alone. The Master wouldn’t die alone. He’d at least take a few planets with him.

Thank goodness it’s Gurpgork. I’m watching Captain America and oh, bless Bisexual Stevey Rogers’ little magical super face. Also, grilled cheese and tomato soup and SO MUCH TEA. I love that it feels less like oppressive summer and I feel like I can eat real food again. I love less that I totally didn’t sweat out any of my winter blubber over the summer. Ho hum.

Tea, though. I always think this is going to be crazy sweet, but there’s this sort of depth under it that keeps it in check and it’s just, like, a bit quietly sassy. The fruit lends a bit of sharpness over the caramelly richness and I might have been a touch overzealous in the sugar application today, but I might have also forgotten whether I’d put in one spoon or two and put in like half of a third by mistake. It’s still good, and I do have something of a sweet tooth, don’t you know.

PLEASE NOTE: one of the flavours in this tea has been discontinued, so it’s recently been reformulated with elements to best approximate the original flavour profile, but I bought mine when the original was still available, so it’s probably slightly different now to the tea I’m reviewing here. Still:

Where do I begin to describe the Brigadier? The fragrance of the tea leaves is rich and complex, and sort of hits you in stages: first, the honeyed sweetness of the fruit, which is then underscored by a layer of rich chocolate, followed a lingering trace of caramel that mostly hits you about a minute later. When brewed, the flavours come together perfectly. Chocolate floats over brisk, slightly fruity black tea with a caramel finish and it’s all surprisingly harmonious. It works really well with milk and sugar. It’s bright and comforting all at once. I think it’s single-handedly diffused the social anxiety attack I was having earlier.

Also, one of the lads at my regular comedy night has officially told me I can add baker to my CV, as I bring experimental cakes to share with the guests and punters every week. Somebody tweeted about how good tonight’s cake was! beams with pride

Oh civilisation! Tea! Actual tea! I’m so happy I could weep!

I like breaking the don’t-drink-earl-grey-with-milk rule more often than not, and always do with this one, and it’s so bloody precious. Can I describe a tea as precious? It’s got this creamy, slightly flowery fruitiness and a teensy bit of orangey sharpness, but mostly it just sort of makes me want to hug it. And tea and hugs are my two favourite things in the world, so yeah.

Also, got the advance copy of a book I did some art for today, and eeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee IT IS THE BEST THING.

Turlough, I do love you, you darling, ginger sassmaster. In the bag, the tea smells like earl grey, but not quite earl grey – it’s earl grey and, which it turns out is my favourite way to drink earl grey. There’s something mysterious and a bit sweet lurking behind the familiar bergamot, something a little otherworldly about it. When brewed, the currant and cream really smooth it out, especially with milk and sugar, while the earl grey retains a lingering edge. It’s bright and sweet, with a creamy mouthfeel, and definitely a little unusual; currant gives it an extra dimension that makes it more interesting than a straight earl grey cream would be. Turlough might not have liked a lot of things about Earth, but he was certainly fond of tea, and I think he’d be chuffed to bits with this one. It’s a big bowl of comforting when you’re feeling mopey and alone and listening to a lot of Echo and the Bunnymen and feeling sad that none of these mere humans can possibly understand what you’re going through. Not that I’ve ever experienced all of the above or anything. Yep.

Things I totally didn’t miss about working in an office when I didn’t work in an office: people who thrive on being in a constant state of stress, and try to project their stress onto everyone around them. One of my visiting contractors asked me today: “everyone looks so miserable, all scowling and stuff. Is this a really terrible place to work?” And I told him it’s really not (because it isn’t) and just about everyone’s really nice (because they are) but that due to the unique way in which one of the best-regarded universities in the world is managed, the department’s in a permanent state of snafu and most people are so absorbed in their own crap that, like, half the people I work with think my name is Amy NO MATTER HOW MANY TIMES I SIGN EMAILS WITH MY NAME OR SAY MY NAME WHEN I ANSWER THE PHONE. But! I mostly don’t stress about any of these things and just knit when there’s nothing to do. Today I finished a new scarf!

But I’m miffy that there’s no sink in my new office and nobody seems to have noticed this but me and I don’t want to kick up a fuss about it BUT MY THERMOS WILL DEVELOP A TEA-FLAVOURED PATINA IF I CAN’T CLEAN IT SHORTLY AFTER USE and the last thing I want is the heady aroma of lapsang souchong permeating every other tea that ever goes in that blasted thing. And yes, I know it’s made of stainless steel and shouldn’t hold flavours but it has a flavour memory, I’m telling you! And tea is too precious to me to let all the flavours merge into one vague metallic blob. No sir. My tea and I deserve better. GRUMP. I want my sink back.

Oh yeah and Eight is still ridiculously tasty and sweet and fills me with such joy and delight. Cherry and apricot and almond are such good friends. Oh FEELINGS. FEEEEEEEELINGS.

There’s something profoundly magical about the combination of stone fruits and almond, and this is indeed a profoundly magical tea. The first thing that hit me straight out of the bag was the scent of sweet, ripe cherries. once brewed, it’s joined by the fragrance of almond, with notes almost reminiscent of glace cherries and marzipan. The first sip, however, reveals a much more understated, pleasant sweetness, with a tart undertone and crisp, lingering apricot finish. Magical. It’s sweet, slightly playful, definitely sexy, with a complex mouthfeel that’s at turns sharp and velvety plush. If you could hug tea, I’d hug this one until my arms stopped working.

Also, discovered on the way to dinner this evening that the tea place that’s hiring in the same building as my erstwhile dayjob. As far as dayjobs go, I think I could handle selling people tea, yes?

Watch this space for forthcoming news about an exciting Seventh-Doctor-related thing at some point in the near future, woohoo!

But in the meantime, I’m trying to conjure up all the words to describe this cuppa: woodsy, earthy, nutty, toasty, roasty, sweet, creamy, light. Yeah, I think that’ll do well. I’m too sleepy to elaborate further on those words, and they sum it up admirably. What I will say is that I always debate with this one whether to use the metal strainer and risk bits in the bottom of my cup, or use up a paper filter even though I’m at home? Today I went for some bits. Mate’s always a pretty fine tea, and tends to go through a lot of tea strainers, but bits don’t really trouble me, as I also tend to cold brew tea in plastic water bottles in the work fridge and then let the flavour continue to deepen as I drink them throughout the day. You get some bits. I don’t mind. I’m weird like that.