Faithful Of Joy (a strawberry sassafras blend)
Good Cheer!
The blend:
- 1/2 teaspoon vanilla rooibos
- 1/2 teaspoon rhubarb strawberry green tea
- 1/2 teaspoon rhubarb strawberry green tea
- 1/4 teaspoon of dried sassafras root
- 1/8 teaspoon of orange rind
- a pinch of something bright and colorful! (blue mallow petals here, but you could try sprinkles or edible glitter or whatever tickles your fancy)
Steep at boiling for ~5 minutes.
Steep at boiling for ~5 minutes.
Notes on ingredients:
- The vanilla rooibos comes from MEM Tea Imports, as does so much of my stash. I don't drink rooibos often, and I can't say that I prefer this particular batch any more or less than any other.
- The rhubarb strawberry green tea I got from Spices and Tease, and goodness is it strong. Delicious, but it is anything but the "subtle" in its description. I only ever drink it cut with other teas, but fortunately the rooibos does the job nicely.
- The sassafras and blue mallow I picked up at my local spice shop, and I proceeded to spend a week sorting out the proper amount of sassafras to add a bit of flavor and not overwhelm everything with the taste of root beer.
I knew that I wanted to start with either rooibos or honeybush as the base for Joy, as two of the sweeter and brighter of tisanes I'm used to, and fruit and sweetness seemed a natural addition, so once I remembered the strawberry tea I save for mixing I'd already almost finished. The two paired well, but it still wasn't everything I wanted. Wandering through a spice shop looking for ideas for Sorrow, I encountered some dried sassafras root and that clenched it. I've never played with sassafras root before (I had to look it up at first to remember its connection to root beer), but it's definitely a flavor I associate with joy. A few pinches of orange brighten everything up and help blend it all together, and throwing in something colorful (and edible) is just for fun. These pictures don't fully capture the sunny orange cheery brightness, and the flavor manages to be soda and jellybeans in a way that isn't nearly as overwhelmingly sweet as it sounds.
Faithful of Sorrow (a lemon balm blend)
Reminisce
The blend:
For every teaspoon of lemon balm,
- one or two petals of dried hibiscus
- three cardamom pods
Steep at boiling for at ~5 minutes.
Notes on ingredients:
- Nothing terribly interesting here. The flowers and cardamom came from a spice shop, and a friend of mine grew more lemon balm than she could use.
Notes on design:
What I wanted for Sorrow was something soothing more than tasty. Bonus points for any known or folkloric health or calming properties. I tried chamomile, but so far I've yet to find any chamomile blend that doesn't taste terrible to me. I don't even find them particularly sleepy or calming. Lavender was my next bet, but it worked too well at making a blend calm and relaxing. The followers of Sorrow in this universe are dispensers of justice and judgement, and I couldn't imagine any blend for them being entirely comfortable. Lemon balm hit a good middle ground of soothing without being decadent, with a fairly mild flavor but a hint of sharpness. Playing with dried hibiscus for the first time, I immediately knew that I wanted it in the blend as well, though primarily for its appearance. It bleeds so prettily as it steeps. But those alone left the tea with a tangy medicinal taste, which wasn't bad, exactly, but wasn't anything terribly interesting. Cardamom added an earthier sharpness that balanced the two, but something still feels missing. Which is, perhaps, appropriate to a sorrowful blend, but I'm likely to keep experimenting.
What I wanted for Sorrow was something soothing more than tasty. Bonus points for any known or folkloric health or calming properties. I tried chamomile, but so far I've yet to find any chamomile blend that doesn't taste terrible to me. I don't even find them particularly sleepy or calming. Lavender was my next bet, but it worked too well at making a blend calm and relaxing. The followers of Sorrow in this universe are dispensers of justice and judgement, and I couldn't imagine any blend for them being entirely comfortable. Lemon balm hit a good middle ground of soothing without being decadent, with a fairly mild flavor but a hint of sharpness. Playing with dried hibiscus for the first time, I immediately knew that I wanted it in the blend as well, though primarily for its appearance. It bleeds so prettily as it steeps. But those alone left the tea with a tangy medicinal taste, which wasn't bad, exactly, but wasn't anything terribly interesting. Cardamom added an earthier sharpness that balanced the two, but something still feels missing. Which is, perhaps, appropriate to a sorrowful blend, but I'm likely to keep experimenting.
Joy is an absolute delight, though too sweet for me to want very often, (I don't have much of a sweet tooth), and Sorrow isn't meant to be an every day blend, but both achieved what I wanted them to, and will likely enter our general house rotation.
The most sorrowful herbal tea I've ever encountered is, by far, ku ding cha, or "bitter nail tea". There are a couple variations, but the only one I've ever had was made from rolled, dried broadleaf holly leaves. It is traditionally known for its health benefits and its extremely bitter flavor. Unfortunately for my boyfriend and I, we didn't know any of this on our first encounter. We were gifted with a set of teas with very little English on the labels, and after slowly savoring the lovely pu-erh in the group, we started looking at the others. We didn't think much of the holly mention on the label, and decided that given all the other teas in the group were black teas, we'd be safe enough to brew it like a black tea. (Our first mistake, ku ding should be brewed at a temperature closer to green tea.) Then, distracted, we allowed the tea to steep longer than advisable. (Our second mistake, as it only needed a minute or two.) When we eventually poured the tea, it looked as pale and unassuming as an under-steeped green, but I managed only a sip before horrified surprise set in. I tried a second, to be sure, but couldn't make it any further. The boyfriend, who at least enjoys coffee, and so presumably has more tolerance for unpleasantly bitter drinks than I do, managed about half his cup. It tasted like road tar, and not in the delicious lapsang souchong way.
Today, to verify that it wouldn't be a good base for Sorrow after all, I tried again with a proper steeping. Not too many leaves, water the proper temperature, no over-steeping... And still, no. One taste made me instantly regret half my life choices and ponder my own mortality. My boyfriend, who makes worse life choices than I do and hates wasting anything, stubbornly tried to finish his glass, but didn't make it any further than the previous time.
It's fascinating, and I'll likely try it again off and on to see if I can see how one acquires a taste for it, and absolutely if I see ku ding available in other places I'll have to try it, to see how other leaves compare to the ones we were given and if there's anything wrong with my steeping method. But for the time being, I can't recommend it.
Bonus blend! Discarded Sorrow
Ponder Your Crimes
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| It looks so unassuming.... |
It's fascinating, and I'll likely try it again off and on to see if I can see how one acquires a taste for it, and absolutely if I see ku ding available in other places I'll have to try it, to see how other leaves compare to the ones we were given and if there's anything wrong with my steeping method. But for the time being, I can't recommend it.
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