Wednesday, 2 December 2015

Basilur tea: Light, sweet and tacky, so - like Disney's "Frozen", without the dumb parts

So I drowned in Blender for a week or so, doing nothing but playing with this new awesome toy and sleeping about four hours every thirty of them, and now I can't stand the sight of the bloody thing thankyouverymuch and I remembered I had a life and wondered what the hell I filled it with before. So today I stepped outside and saw some sunshine (and was awed at how well-modelled all the people around me were, and how smooth their animation, until I realized this isn't Blender anymore); and exchanged the usual jibes with the grocer, and found a wonderfully tasty tea blend which made me so happy I had two full pots of it today.

So I like tea very much - and I like most those pretty tea flowers, which you dump into a kettle full of hot water and they bloom within it (until you're done drinking, that is, at which point it stops being fairy magic and is just this wet tentacloid thing you have to fish out of the kettle, wring and toss away and pretend you never drank anything this swam in) - but those are a little expensive, and hard to find, so anyway, Basilur

Take a look:


Their design is so classy-tacky that I can't help thinking their main client must be Russia, who still maintains that fairy tale feel in its culture - which I love, but most of the world sees as terrible kitsch. Buying a blend named Cream Fantasy is bad enough; its ingredient list is really even more of a disgrace, containing, on top of green Ceylon tea (which is all that's needed, if you ask me), also pineapple, papaya, berries, flower petals and something that gives it cream flavour - and much to my shock, this actually works. It totally tastes like a posh 80s bubble bath, complete with pink sparkles and a servant in a pressed white suit that brings you a golden landline phone on a platter.

It tastes smooth and creamy and lightly sweet, and feels wintery despite being green tea, which is usually so light I prefer to keep it for the summer. It also really has an undeniable soapy aftertaste, but I'm happy to have that.

It's not the poshest tea ever, but it's affordable and very nice and does not only come in bags (I hate tea bags. That's like wearing a condom when all you want is a dirty sweaty one against the wall). A spoon of this in a kettle full of hot water, and the leaves spread and sprawl and are free to release all their tea-y goodness the way god intended, rather than snuggle tightly in a sieve or a bag - and then your tea pot looks like filthy swamp water complete with slimy seaweed, but gods, it tastes so nice.

And did I mention I really like the kitsch? The containers are so classy I feel like two more pots of this tea and I'll find Little Red Riding Hood knocking on my door, with Baba Yaga in her wake. It's pretty. It's sparkly and colourful and tells a story and sells me an image of a world I want to be a part of, one where the word Bauhaus refers to the band at most, or is used as a cuss word, and certainly isn't the ugliest, coldest, graceless art style possibly imaginable.

...So I had two pots of this and then spent a couple of hours playing Assassins' Creed with husband, and a couple more chatting to Lucky and derping, then I had another glass of this tea and I'd say I'm ready to go and sleep like a baby, if it wasn't for the fact that with so much tea I'm likely to not leave the loo for the next good few. Ah, downsides. You come even with sparkly tea.

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