{.and forward I go.}

by devourslowly

I have returned.  Humble selflessness, noble gallantry and everything in between.  More tea tasting in the past week.  More experience to share.  More tea merchants to expose.

It is a thankless job, but someone has to do it.

Here goes –


A new food store opened up across the road.  Within a week the front doors were shut and the building spent the next month looking like nothing but a derelict.  H and I marveled at the cruel and organic nature of small businesses.  There is no justice for the (metaphorical) little man.

Quietly and unceremoniously last week, the store reopened itself.  There HAS to be a marvelous story behind it.  But what ever prompted its swift closing and swift opening and  how ever heightened my interest I doubt I will ever find out.  It may be somewhat of a saucy scandal featuring the young owner of organic food persuasion and his dictatorial father afflicted with Kraft foods or something.  The banished son sets up shop at the corner of the earth only to be plagued by his father’s minions.  The intrigue!  The scandal!

I thought of the virtue of being neighbourly and decided to make a couple of purchases one sunny afternoon.

Nothing really jumped out at me.  H and I do all of our shopping at Nosh and the local French market.  We have very little reason to venture out of that immediate and comfortable shopping circle where we are known and (I like to think) well liked.  I mean com’on, it is not like this owner is going to offer me 30% off two juicy pieces of prime cut eye fillet or put a couple of fresh herbs in my bag as a weekly treat.

I settled on a small packet of Ahmad Peach and Passion Black Tea.  Well, none of my regular shops stock it so the guilt of betrayal rides very very low on this one.

It took me a good five minutes to get into the packet.  Well… mostly fumbling with the stuck down folded plastic on the side for what seemed like eternity.  Cursing, growling and firing off hollow threats until finding a little pull tag surreptitiously tucked away at the bottom of the packet.  There is virtue in sealing a packet of tea very well for freshness sake and there is just being a pain in the backside.  I say!

To add salt to injury, each individual tea bag had been wrapped in sealed plastic bags.  The greenie in me screamed in agony.  Wait till I tell Pete Bethune.  (I am in the process of making up a little jingle featuring Pete Bathune.  It goes something like Pete Bethune, what a loon… I am still working on it.  Bethune does not rhyme with many words.)

The tea bag itself smelt decidedly peachy and passion-fruity.  Artificial though.  No matter, things were looking up a bit.

First taste: there was perhaps a tad too much black tea and a tad too little fruit tea.  The decidedly sour aftertaste could only come from black tea and nothing else (well… unless it was my residual rage against the packaging… and the music).  Nothing a bite out of a lady’s finger won’t fix though.  A bit of cake always make bitter tea more palatable.