A Godly Brew, 'Monk's Blend',

Let us continue with a theme; while I realise I have still yet to review teas from January and February, I fell that, for once, I should concentrate on one thing rather than jumping around. Fear not, we will get to Frozen Summit some day (I have drank it, I have my notes, I just... Haven't written it all up). Honestly, I feel that I am gaining tea quicker than I have chance to write about them (even at once a week London Tea Club alone takes nearly the whole month and, the way things have been going recently with many a tea gifted unto me, that still leaves me with a surplus to review).


Today I'd like to introduce you to the second tea from London Tea Club's March delivery. The light and humble taste of Monk's Blend. It's a Ceylon base, with vanilla oil, grenadine and calendula petals. Such a description sounds more like a cocktail than a tea blend. I'm not sure if it technically constitutes as a Ceylon tea though; a Ceylon tea can have no less than 100% of its leaves grown and produced in Sri Lanka. Now, given that all of the actual tea is from Sri Lanka, does that mean it is a flavoured or blended Ceylon tea? Or does the addition of any other ingredient (even when it is not more tea) make it no longer Ceylon? I'm afraid I don't actually have the answer to that, but still, fun fact about it being all or nothing, right? It's a bit like 'sparkling wines', I guess; you know, how it isn't Champagne unless the grapes are grown in the Champagne region.

I actually did a little bit of research into Ceylon tea before writing this post with the intention of adding the odd entertaining anecdote, but realised that the history of Ceylon tea is not only lengthy but genuinely fascinating. The more I learn about tea the more I realise just how much this humble plant has shaped human culture. As a result, I've decided to not discuss it here, but (tea)leave it until another date, another post and dedicate it to the history of Ceylon. Honestly, it deserves it and stops this post being three times as long as it needs to be.

I decided to brew the Monk's Blend in my then new (and still newest!) teapot, my black and white yokode kyusu. 'Kyusu' is simply Japanese for 'teapot', but what really sets this teapot out from my (many) other Japanese tea ware is the 'yokode' bit, or, in English, 'side hand(le)'. Rather than having a handle that goes over the top (like most of my Japanese teapots) or a handle at the back (like most of my Western style teapots; you know, the 'classic teapot' shape), it quite literally has a handle at the side. It look a little like an earthenware saucepan with a spout. When I first bought it I thought that the 'yokode' would make pouring a little awkward and unnatural, but thought 'what the hell' and bought it anyway because it has a side handle. Honestly? I am so glad I gave in to that (somewhat expensive) whim. I get such a sense of pleasure pouring from this teapot; the movement feels far more fluid and controlled than from a teapot with an overhead or back handle. I was astounded; I never thought that pouring tea felt wrong but somehow using a yokode kyusu just feels right. It is very peculiar, but I took it over to my parents' place after I bought it and my father agreed that it was the most satisfying and instinctive ways of pouring tea.

It's bizarre. When I started this tea journey I never realised just how vastly different tea paraphernalia could be. If you ever get the chance to try out a yokode kyusu jump at it, although make sure you find one that matches your handedness (that's right! Left and right handed teapots!). That said, my left handed mother had no issues using my right handed yokode kyusu. I am in love with how pouring from the teapot feels.

As this teapot did not have any matching cups I decided to buy myself a new bowl; it's larger than most of my Japanese tea bowls and features a delightful design of swimming koi on the inside, while to outside is a plain white. It means that the koi end up swimming in the tea and allows the pattern to be seen while you drink. I thought it was a very elegant and I approved of the size. I had yet to use this bowl when I brewed Monk's Blend and, as I was using the yokode kyusu I had purchased alongside, it seemed fitting to drink my new tea from this bowl (even if it meant I was mixing tea cultures with Ceylon tea and Japanese paraphernalia).

I am getting distracted, such is my excitement for teapots and histeaory.

Monk's Blend is quite a pretty tea to look at; dark leaves flecked with lemon colour. Once brewed it is is a vibrant amber. The flavour is light, delicate and floral. As it rolls across the tongue, hints of citrus notes become apparent. There is an unmistakable fruitiness to the liquor, no doubt the result of the added grenadine. The flavours of Monk's Blend are subtle and complex; at first there is the floral, fruity bouquet, followed by a smooth and lingering after taste that is distinctly Ceylon. Overall, a very pleasant and satisfying tea.

London Tea Club say that 'we're not sure which monk invented this blend but we agree that it's heavenly' and I am wont to agree.

London Tea Club: March and 'Castleton Darjeeling'

It's been a while, eh? This is the bit where I waffle excuses, but I don't really have anything specific other than just 'I've been generally busy'. That said, I actually have a couple of posts written up and saved as drafts; not sure why it has taken me so long, but expect these to posted in the coming days (or not...)

Let us travel back to March then. Peering into my postbox at the start of the month, there was the final box of teas from my gift subscription (fanx mum). So what wonders did March have to offer? Two test tubes, neatly labelled Castleton Darjeeling and Monks Blend. The third? A little sachet, displaying the words White Peony. Why a sachet? Well, the tea leaves are dried whole and, unlike an Oolong where the leaves are curled and twisted into tiny beds, the leaves are flat. Essentially, the White Peony leaves are too big to be kept in a narrow test tube.

Underneath the tea (and the little London Tea Club bag that comes with each box), there was black business card alongside the usually monthly newsletter. This card reminded me that this was, indeed, the final box in my gift subscription (it had also mentioned this on the address label on the box) and that they hoped I had enjoyed my membership. It also offered me a special code that allowed me to get the next month's box free should I wish to continue! Hooray! More tea for me! Naturally, I signed up for April and do intend to continue to get the tea box, funds allowing (I have far too many monthly subscriptions currently).

But of course, you are not here to read about my subscriptions, you are here (presumably; if you're not, I'm not quite sure what you're expecting) to read about tea.

Let this post introduce you to Castleton Darjeeling. A truely divine tea if I ever found one. Properly brewed, this tea is one of the finest black teas I've ever tasted (and I have tasted a fair few). Did you know, that Darjeeling teas are referred to as 'the champagne of teas'? No, I didn't either until London Tea Club told me; certainly, this tea shows it.

Before I move on to the tea itself, let me tell you a little about Darjeeling teas. Interestingly enough, Darjeeling teas, although grown in (unsurprisingly) the Darjeeling district of West India, are grown from the Asian strain of Camellia sinensis (the sinensis varient) rather than the Indian strain (the assamica variant). Apparently there are only seven valleys, comprising of eighty gardens, that grow Darjeeling tea and an individual bush only yields about 100g of dried tea per year. This particular tea comes from the Castleton estate from the Kurseong district; hence the name, really. The estate was established in 1885 (and the Camellia sinensis plant can produce useable leaves for over 100 years with proper care, so this is historic tea I'm drinking right here) by an Englishman, Dr. Charles Graham. So this tea is an Chinese plant, grown in India by the English; with the three main players in tea, it is surely the truest form of internationalitea, no?


Despite being such a fine tea, I decided, rather boorishly in hindsight, to brew it in one of my favourite mugs. The sentiments emblazoned across it are true enough 'Where There is Tea there is Hope'. I also used my silicone flower tea infuser, which always brightens my day, as it pokes out of the top of my mug. It also has a matching flower pot to catch the drippings when I'm done; delightful!

So, what about this particular Darjeeling? While this is not the first time I have drank Darjeeling, it is perhaps the first time I have appreciated it for what it is (you know how it goes; you're at a cafe, they tell you they serve 'specialty teas', so you opt for the brand name Darjeelings, it's over steeped and bagged and, quite frankly, just tastes like tea) and, until now, I've not actually had any in my collection. This is also a 'second flush', that is, the leaves have been picked during summer, rather than spring or autumn.

The aroma of this tea was almost citrusy; a faint reminder of sour-sweet fruit, even though this tea hasn't had sight of a lemon or orange. You could be fogriven for thinking otherwise by looking at it; its colour is a pale lemon. It also has a distinctly honey like quality; thick but smooth and slightly sweet. It rolls across the tongue and lingers at the back of the mouth, leaving a long lasting impression. If gold was a drink, it would be Darjeeling.

I feel that I need to add more Darjeeling teas to me ever growing, over flowing collection. That way I can better appreciate the subtle nuances that separate Castleton Darjeeling from others. Still, as an introduction to this finest of teas, I am very much impressed and certainly look forward to imbibing another cup. Much like champagne, I feel its a tea for celebrating with, for sharing or for after a long, tiring day when 'fuck it, I'm having a drink'. Just, in this case, its not alcoholic. And I'm not sure I'd recommend adding a shot of vodka to this (or any?) tea; it's perfection as it is.