Tea: Blood Orange (herbal) with cloves
Music: Kimberli Kircher, "Baby It's Cold Outside"
Time: Night.
After drinking a quart and a half of free coffee today at Morning Glory Espresso (where a local electrician pays for everyone's house brew on Mondays), I've had quite enough caffeine, thank you.
Besides, I feel inspired to try a little seasonal sipping tonight -- and the combination of blood orange and cloves sounds intriguing. (It's still steeping as I type this part.)
And ... the first steeping's done. Time for a sniff.
The spice (a generous pinch, six whole cloves) is noticeable, warm against the sharpness of the blood orange.
Sipping ...
I could have used more cloves, perhaps -- but it's not half bad at first taste, and it gets better after that. The spice comes up through the mix as the tea cools, warming the back of the throat. The sensation continues down into the chest (Pleasant, that.), and the aroma of the cloves lingers well beyond each sip.
Second steeping coming up.
Lots more clove at first sniff this time. First sip, too. And as before, it grows as the tea cools -- but still plays nicely against the citrus.
All this warmth is making me sleepy, though. So I'm going to finish this cup, read a little Merwin as I do so and then turn in.
Orange tea, Green Knight ... good night.
Showing posts with label new tastes. Show all posts
Showing posts with label new tastes. Show all posts
Monday, December 15, 2008
Tuesday, July 15, 2008
A Different Kind of Infusion
Tea: Chrysanthemum
Music: The Beatles, "Penny Lane"
Time: Night
Last month -- I forget the day -- I went into the back yard and picked a double handful of mulberries from the tree there. I rinsed them, let them dry and then packed them into a clean jar.
Then I filled the jar with Most Wanted vodka, which I like because (a) it's made near Atchison, Kansas, and (b) it's good. I put the jar in a cool place in the basement and let it sit -- until this evening.
I strained the liquid in the jar -- now a deep, clear rose color -- into a freshly washed and dried bottle, which I then corked and put in the freezer. (Yes, I popped the cork every now and then to let air into the bottle. I wanted to be able to get the cork out once the bottle was cold.)
A few hours later, I put a shot glass into the freezer long enough to frost up. Then I filled it with a shot of the infused vodka, went outside and took a sniff.
The fruit was there, noticeably. Next step: down the hatch, Russian style.
Vodka can be oily at room temperature. There wasn't a hint of any oiliness here, though -- just a quick taste of fresh straw, followed by the mulberry note (rounding on the tongue and the roof of the mouth) and a sweet, grassy aftertaste.
As first efforts at infusing go, it might not have been a home run. But I'll call it a solid base hit -- and I'm already making plans for what's left. I've never muddled before -- but as with infusing, there's a first time for everything.
Music: The Beatles, "Penny Lane"
Time: Night
Last month -- I forget the day -- I went into the back yard and picked a double handful of mulberries from the tree there. I rinsed them, let them dry and then packed them into a clean jar.
Then I filled the jar with Most Wanted vodka, which I like because (a) it's made near Atchison, Kansas, and (b) it's good. I put the jar in a cool place in the basement and let it sit -- until this evening.
I strained the liquid in the jar -- now a deep, clear rose color -- into a freshly washed and dried bottle, which I then corked and put in the freezer. (Yes, I popped the cork every now and then to let air into the bottle. I wanted to be able to get the cork out once the bottle was cold.)
A few hours later, I put a shot glass into the freezer long enough to frost up. Then I filled it with a shot of the infused vodka, went outside and took a sniff.
The fruit was there, noticeably. Next step: down the hatch, Russian style.
Vodka can be oily at room temperature. There wasn't a hint of any oiliness here, though -- just a quick taste of fresh straw, followed by the mulberry note (rounding on the tongue and the roof of the mouth) and a sweet, grassy aftertaste.
As first efforts at infusing go, it might not have been a home run. But I'll call it a solid base hit -- and I'm already making plans for what's left. I've never muddled before -- but as with infusing, there's a first time for everything.
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