I can’t quite explain this tea. I stumbled over the just-opened Mariage Frères store in London in the fall. I sniffed my way through everything they had. I definitely wasn’t going to buy another rooibos. The only thing I walked away with was this.
What gives, Gluttonette?
I gifted the one I bought to a person who doesn’t really like rooibos at all (but who hilariously hogged it to the extent that the wildest excuses were made to not share any of the tea at all). I then returned in the spring and did EXACTLY THE SAME THING (?!) but kept the tea for myself this time.
It’s nowhere near as pretty as the picture above – forget about seeing even half a rose petal. The scent isn’t particularly strong; there’s a solid, lavender-strewn body with a slight hint of something indistinguishable and vaguely exciting.
It’s not an exceptional tea. It’s an elegant, smooth rooibos that hits a surprisingly bright shade brewed. It tastes… just like it smells.
And yet is has that thing. A wild card, a ghost note, a secret, two pinches of je ne sais quoi.
And I can’t explain it.
And I can’t stop drinking it.
[Purchased at Mariage Frères in London, May 2013.]
Boiling, 5 min