Shochu is a type of Japanese liquor, stronger than sake, and made from either rice, barley or sweet potato, or a combination of two of the three. The Iichiko shochu I used is brewed with barley, and is considerably smoother than shochu made with rice. There is at least one traditional cocktail served often in an Izakaya (Japanese pub-like establishment) that uses tea – the Oolong Hai, which is Shochu with pre-brewed oolong tea over ice, so there is some precedent for the drink I made.

One of the things I was curious about when I considered making this drink was how well and how quickly the tea would infuse into the room-temperature Shochu. I didn’t think it would infuse very fast or very effectively, and I was right, but the unfurling jasmine pearls did look pretty in the glass.

And it did taste quite good, just not as strongly flavored as I would have preferred. Tossing the tea in about three days or more before consuming is probably a good rule-of-thumb.

Of particular interest, accompanying these other Russian food and drink items was a selection of teas. The array was not huge, but it appeared to provide some valuable insight into what Russians in the United States would purchase in their attempts to recapture some of the flavor of Mother Russia. These particular teas were not the expensive, refined teas that members of the Russian aristocracy would have poured out of blue and white Lomonosov “Cobalt” teapots. These were teas of the proletariat – inexpensive and convenient, most of them manufactured by a company called “Czar Nikolas II.” Although I later found out that the company also sells one-pound bags of loose tea, this particular store only sells the company’s boxes of tea bags, in varieties very much geared to the Russian palate. Along with basic green and black teas, they sell “Valentine,” which is flavored with rose petals and safflower and a bergamot-scented tea similar to Earl Grey, and “Nostalgia,” which is Ceylon tea with the addition of black currant leaves and strawberry leaves.

To get an idea of a similar, but more extensive selection, take a look through the Russian teas available through Skazka Russian Food.

It might seem a little surprising that I’d be attracted to a tea that is both flavored with non-tea ingredients and, quelle horreur!, in tea bags, but my expectation was to investigate commonly available Russian teas, not to discover the most exquisite and sublime tea taste imaginable. Plus, I have no resistance whatsoever to items that fascinate me and also happen to bear the name of my favorite film – Nostalghia (Ностальгия), by the visionary director Andrei Tarkovsky – thus the compulsion was strong to buy a box of the Nostalgia tea, so I did.

I was intrigued by the notion of the addition of currant and strawberry leaves to tea. These were two flavors I had not experienced before, but I didn’t think they’d be fruity or sweet. From what I already knew about Russian cuisine and the types of flavors that appeal to my palate, I expected this tea to be one I would like, in spite of it being so very different from the pure-leaf teas I drink the rest of the time and I was not disappointed. The non-tea taste is hard to describe. I can’t think of a more familiar flavor to use to describe what it tastes like by analogy. Imagining the flavors of currants and strawberries, but slightly pungent and bitter and without any sweetness, ought to provide an approximation of what this tea tastes like. It’s kind of hard to talk about it as tea since the dominant scents and flavors are not tea, but that’s to be expected. As one would expect, the Ceylon black tea in this tea would be pretty substandard on its own, but that’s not important. Why would anyone add weird dominant non-tea flavors to good tasting teas in the first place?

I don’t have any Russian grandmothers to ask whether they like this tea or not, but it certainly fits my definition of a very Russian character. Czar Nikolas II’s “Premium Nostalgia” tea tastes like Russian tea because it is made for consumption by Russians.

“I wanted to make a film about Russian nostalgia—about that state of mind peculiar to our nation which affects Russians who are far from their native land. I saw this almost as a patriotic duty in my understanding of the concept. I wanted the film to be about the fatal attachment of Russians to their national roots, their past, their culture, their native places, their families and friends; an attachment which they carry with them all their lives, regardless of where destiny may fling them. Russians are seldom able to adapt easily, to come to terms with a new way of life. The entire history of Russian emigration bears out the Western view that ‘Russians are bad emigrants’; everyone knows their tragic incapacity to be assimilated, the clumsy ineptitude of their efforts to adopt to an alien life-style. How could I have imagined, as I was making Nostalgia that the stifling sense of longing that fills the screen space of that film was to becone my lot for the rest of my life; that from now until the end of my days I would bear the painful malady within myself?”

- Andrei Tarkovsky, from his book “Sculpting in Time”

After doing some additional reading in preparation for writing about the tea, especially the passage by Tarkovsky above, I became aware of how appropriate it was for a Russian tea in an unassuming suburban grocery store in the United States to be called “Nostalgia.” The signs of an influx of Russian culture into the area are there, from older indicators like the two beautiful Russian Orthodox churches in Seattle, to more recent signs, like the ease of finding Russian language as an option in local ATMs. But there aren’t restaurants or neighborhoods or many of the more blatant signs visible here, so I only notice the signs when I seek to spot them. I have fantasies of a Russian teahouse opening up with a running loop of Eisenstein films in one room and Stravinsky playing in the background, with banks of bronze samovars holding teapots of Keemun perched on top, but until then I can console myself with strong cups of cheap Russian tea.

(The image above is a still from Nostalghia.)

There’s a certain set of scents that I (and probably a whole lot of other people) associate with Christmas. Mighty Leaf’s Holiday Blend tastes like Christmas smells: like the decoration aisle of a craft store in winter, like candles, fireplaces, and red and green and gold glittery stuff. The dominant flavors that contribute to this overall holiday-ness are clove and cinnamon, which led my clove-obsessed cat to pester me the whole time the teapot containing the tea was on the table. (I didn’t give him any of the tea.)
Mighty Leaf’s description:

“Our holiday blend is a festive winter chai. Indian black tea converges with chai spices of clove, cinnamon, star anise, and ginger for a robust, slightly astringent cup. Apple and goji berries give it a slightly tart, mulled spice profile. Great with milk.”

The tea is good, but as the company’s description would suggest, it did not taste good black. It really, really needed sugar so I added some. It seemed like it might do well with milk also, but I didn’t have any to experiment with when I tasted the tea and I found that it was quite tasty once it was sweetened. I liked the peppery flavor of the blend, and I was relieved that it didn’t have the cloying, cheap potpourri flavor that I feared it might have. I also determined that it would have been greatly enhanced by a shot of brandy, which I also did not have on hand, sadly.

It is a very nice tea, and provided me with the unusual experience of drinking a type of tea that I would not encounter under normal circumstances. I very rarely drink flavored teas or blends or teas that need sugar, so it was really interesting to taste this particular tea. It was almost like trying a completely different cuisine, like trying something that is enjoyable, but struck me as not tea-like since it was so unlike the varieties of tea I drink. I think that for anyone who does drink spicy and aromatic blends and flavored teas the Holiday Blend would be quite enjoyable. It would be perfect for drinking in front of a fire surrounded by shreds of wrapping paper and relatives you don’t often see, which might necessitate adding the brandy, depending on your circumstances.

Ice it. Almost everyone is familiar with the deliciousness of iced tea, as it’s a quintessential summer beverage. You don’t have to use the classic black tea, however, as green and white teas can make equally as tasty iced tea. Experiment with tea types to find the perfect blend for your tastes.

Add fruit. Summer is a time when many fruits are at their peak so why not take advantage and use them to flavor your tea? Raspberries, blueberries and even oranges can add a lot to tea and make it feel super summer ready.

Sweeten it. For those with a sweet tooth, summer can be the perfect excuse to sweeten up your tea more than usual. Try out a great southern iced tea recipe for a much sweeter take on the usually bitter taste of tea.

Combine it with other beverages. Tea doesn’t have to go it alone when you’re searching for a great summer beverage. Flavor your tea with lemonade, pomegranate juice or a variety of other juices for a refreshing and healthy twist on regular tea.

Make a punch. Whether you choose to add alcohol or not is up to you, but tea can be a great addition to many summer-friendly punches. Mixed with fruit, juices and sparkling water, tea can bring a lot of life to the party.

Use it to flavor other foods. Like sorbet? Wouldn’t tea sorbet be even better? There are many summery recipes that use tea as a flavoring agent. From duck to cheesecake, there are tons of recipes out there that can let you have your tea and eat it too.

Some tea enthusiasts claim that tea can actually help prevent sunburn and be healthier for you than water. Whether these are true claims or not, there’s no reason to skip out on tea when the temperatures climb.

This post was contributed by Meredith Walker, who writes about the nursing degree. She welcomes your feedback at MeredithWalker1983 at gmail.com.

Mintiness is a logical flavor to go with hot weather and cold drinks, so I cold-brewed this tea. I put the bag into a Mason jar of spring water with the tag hanging out, stuck it in the refrigerator and ignored it for about fifteen hours. Then I took it out, removed the bag and tasted it. It was quite good and quite refreshing. This method produces a calmly flavored brew, particularly with just one tea bag for a whole jar, and in this case the result was just right. It might have gotten a little stronger if I had left it in longer, but it didn’t really need to be. I can’t imagine putting sugar in it, and it certainly doesn’t need anything added to make it interesting, but I don’t put sugar in anything, so take that with a grain of salt (or sugar?). I would recommend going light if you really must sweeten it, though. The delicate mint could get overwhelmed.

This is Mighty Leaf’s description:

“Marrakesh Mint green tea is made from China Gunpowder green tea blended with refreshing Moroccan peppermint. Packaged in a silken tea pouch, our gourmet teabag, this blend will whisk you away to cascading waterfalls deep in the mountains of Morocco. Host friends and family with this lively green tea brightened with peppermint cultivated on a mountain in Tiznit.”

Cold brewing is the best use I can think of for tea in bags like this and it is terribly convenient. You just pull out the bag or bags when you’re done steeping the tea and you have a nice refreshing jar or pitcher of tea. I wrote about the evil microbes that can invade your sun tea on The Taste of English Tea Blog, in case you want to be convinced that cold-brewing tea is a good idea.

One thing that I usually forget about mint tea, since I don’t drink it very often, is that it can help alleviate certain symptoms of some respiratory problems. It can help clear the lungs and other air passages, enabling you to feel like you’re taking in more air as you breathe. In my case I don’t know if this has something to do with asthma or allergies, but I always notice the difference that drinking mint tea makes in improving my breathing, and it usually comes as a surprise since I’m usually not drinking it for that purpose.

As I sat down to write this, with a glass of Marrakesh Mint for inspiration, I thought about how funny it was to be writing about a hot weather, summery cool, mint tea when it had been overcast and rainy all day today. But as I sat there, taking nice sips of the cold tea the sun came out, so apparently this tea has a magical ability to summon the sunlight, which is kind of a nice side benefit if you’re into that sort of thing.

I have an odd relationship with lavender; while I don’t really care for the scent of it at all (and that’s the way it’s most commonly used here in the U.S.), I do enjoy the flavor of it, particularly combined with other flavors.  Lavender and tea is a natural pairing in my eyes.  When I have lavender teas, I most commonly choose black teas with this assertive flower, but there’s every reason for it to blend well with the clean, grassy notes of green teas as well, not to mention making a refreshing change from the traditional blend of jasmine with green tea.  And so I was intrigued by Lavender Zen from DAVIDsTea, which blends a  Tibetan green tea with lavender flowers.

The initial scent of this tea out of the package is decidedly lavender, but it’s not heavy or overwhelming; there’s a clean note to it, the fragrance of the tea itself coming out as a green, balancing note underlying the flowers.  I find the appearance of the dried tea really attractive, a lovely combination of the purple lavender petals and the soft brown-green of the tea leaves.  This is nice enough to be put in a bowl as potpourri, except that it would be a waste of good tea.

I prepared my first infusion of this (Western-style, using a Swissgold infuser and a stoneware pot, brewed for the recommended three minutes) on a chilly early spring evening, when winter was still hanging tenaciously in the air, and the scent of the tea as it infused was like a promise of warmer days.  It had a mild, soft character that reminded me of a soft breeze on a spring afternoon, and a lovely floral note like flowers on the wind.  It didn’t smell “lavendery,” that strong, almost antiseptic scent that too much lavender can have, but rather was sweet and pleasant, just recognizable as floral without being anything too specific or overwhelming.  The color of the tea was a pale, clear green, like the shade of budding leaves or flowers before they open.

The first taste of the tea carried through this springlike, softly-floral motif; it was pleasant and light, although it did have a bit more of a “perfumey” character than just the scent alone.  In the middle, it surprised me, becoming unexpectedly mouth-filling and with a surprising toasted note, very much like a traditional bancha, and without much evidence of the lavender; I found this really enjoyable, though more of the lavender flavor would have been nice.  The finish was very traditionally “green,” with a strong herbal character, and it was rather astringent.

Overall, I think this tea lives up to its billing as being relaxing–certainly, the echoes of spring it brought helped cheer and calm me after an unusually long winter.  I really appreciate that it’s not strongly “medicinal,” the way some lavender teas can be, nor overtly flowery.  I do wish the flavor was a little more assertive, and that the overall blend of the green and lavender notes was more refined.  Nonetheless, I enjoyed my time with this tea (and plan to again), and I think it’s a good bet for those who would like a green tea with something a little different about it.

When I brewed the first cup of this tea I made the mistake of using too much leaf. This resulted in a cup that was a lot more like a brutal assault of bergamot oranges to the head than a strong, orange-scented, nice cup of tea. Subsequent tastings proved much more enjoyable when I was more careful about leaf quantity and I found that I really liked drinking it, particularly as a first cup of tea as I try to launch into the day.

Jing Tea’s online description of this tea states that they designed it to suit tea drinkers who prefer to add milk to their cup. It is certainly a tea with a strong personality, one that could hold its own even with a bit of taming by milk. Since I do not add milk to tea I brewed it a little weaker than the 1-2 teaspoon to a cup ratio that the company recommends on its packaging. This resulted in a rich and tangy brew, heavy on the bergamot, but not overpowering.

This tea’s fascinating flavor comes from just two ingredients: black tea from Teatulia’s gardens in Northern Bangladesh and organically grown holy basil. The flavors of the black tea and the holy basil mesh with an unexpected synchronicity, resulting in a brew that tastes like neither of them individually. The tea is silken on the tongue and leaves a nice round lingering feel in the mouth. This is a tea that I would recommend to anyone with an adventurous palate.

Holy Basil (Ocimum tenuiflorum), also called Tulsi, is an important herb in Ayurvedic medicine, used in the treatment of a broad range of ailments. Tulsi is also extremely important within Hindu tradition as a sacred plant incarnation of the Divine.

What distinguishes Tulsi from other basils is its peerless religious significance. Tulsi is Divinity. It is regarded not merely as a utilitarian God-send, as most sacred plants are viewed to be, but as an incarnation of the Goddess Herself. Thus, when one bows before Tulsi, one bows before the Goddess. Of course, denominations differ in their approach. Generally, worshipers of Vishnu will envision Tulsi as Lakshmi or Vrinda; devotees of Rama may view Tulsi as Sita; while Krishna bhaktas revere Her as Vrinda, Radha or Rukmani.

- excerpted from this article on Hinduism Today.

The lovely image below is of the Prayer House at Tetulia Guest Estate in Bangladesh, taken from Teatulia’s photostream on Flickr.

Despite the name, The Teacup‘s Snow Leopard Blend is not camellia sinensis flavored with snow leopards. It is not even picked or drunk by snow leopards. Part of it does come from growing regions that overlap with the big cat’s range, however. The blend is made up of Yunnan black tea, Assam black tea, and Nepalese first flush high mountain tea. It has quite an interesting pre-brewed scent, kind of sour, kind of sweet. The tea liquor is very unlike the types of teas that I usually drink, but I have been enjoying drinking it.

The tea’s relationship to the beautiful endangered big cats of the Himalayas is that 10% of each sale goes to The Snow Leopard Trust, an organization that promotes conservation of snow leopards and their habitats. This great idea germinated through the friendship of The Teacup’s owner with some of the members of the organization, which is locally connected to Woodland Park Zoo in Seattle. The snow leopards are indisputably in need of the clearly envisioned and implemented assistance provided by the trust. From the Snow Leopard Trust’s site:

The Snow Leopard Trust strives to follow these principles in all its community-based conservation efforts and throughout this website you will read about the different projects that we are implementing with our community partners. While the projects differ in response to the local needs and conditions, the underlying principles of each of the programs remain the same. We constantly endeavor to improve our conservation projects to better meet the needs of cats and humans, and we are seeing wonderful results at our project sites where the livelihoods of families and communities have improved greatly and snow leopards are being protected.

Snow Leopard Blend is not on The Teacup’s website, but if you are local you can go to their store in Queen Anne to buy it. Or perhaps they might be willing to sell and send you some if you give them a call or email them. You’ll enjoy the tea, and you’ll be helping to save a group of very magnificent cats.

Photo credit: Helen Freeman, courtesy of Snow Leopard Trust. Photo location: Woodland Park Zoo; Seattle, WA USA

The two gaiwans pictured are uncoated yixing (zisha clay). They are ideal for pu-er and darker oolong varieties. Greener (lightly oxidized) oolongs or Chinese green teas are much better suited to porcelain-lined, solid porcelain or glass gaiwans. Brewing in zisha vessels will imbue green oolongs and green teas with a very unpleasant undertone.

The nice thing about this method is that it is very portable. It can be used without a great deal of extra equipment or fuss just about anywhere.