This tea arrived by way of a surprise tea package from my good friend Rebecca. Receiving a present of tea in the post is a sure-fire way to warm the cockles of my jaded, world weary heart. Particularly when, as in the case of Dilmah Lady Silver, the tea promises to be “scented with a touch of romance.”
Dilmah have embraced the romance theme with their packaging, which shows a softly focused attractive lady with a cup of tea and an expression of slightly chaste sexual ecstasy. She looks like she would be perfectly at home on the cover of a Mills & Boon paperback. (Although, if the tea makers had included a bare chested Fabio in the shot, it would have been even more perfect.)
What does romance taste like? Well, I’m glad you asked. It is a question that has long preoccupied poets, artists, and romantic scientists. And now Dilmah Teas have cleared the matter right up. A swift consultation of the ingredients list reveals that the true taste of romance is… 3.82% English Toffee Flavour. A surprising result but I’m sure that Dilmah have done their research.
As for the tea itself? Well, hum, here’s the thing. I really wanted to like this tea a lot more than I actually did. (And not just because I don’t want to discourage my friends from sending me tea gifts.) Dilmah Teas look like a smashing company, they’re an enthusiastic multi-generational business with a strong ethical standpoint both environmentally and within the community. This is a single source Ceylon tea, and I’m sure that at the base of it, it’s perfectly good. But that whole artificial toffee flavour thing really didn’t do it for me.
Maybe 3.82% is a little too much English toffee flavour? I don’t want to tell Dilmah how to do their jobs, but perhaps 2.91% would have been the sweet spot. I will cheerfully finish off the box but I don’t think I’ll be replenishing my supply. Although I’ll certainly give other teas by this teamonger a go.
I’m not saying that Dilmah are wrong in their assertion that romance tastes like toffee though. The more I think about it, the more I realised that this makes complete sense.
I recently enjoyed watching Bridgerton, Netflix’s frothy exuberant, don’t-give-a-flying-fuck-about-historical-accuracy romance series. Bridgerton was pure indulgence; a nutritionally worthless dollop of televised sugar. It was, I now realise, the viewing equivalent of munching your way through a tin of Quality Street.
In fact if – in the wake of Bridgerton’s successful viewing figures – Netflix are scouting around for their next romantic drama series, they should consider making a TV show out of this tea. “Lady Silver: A woman, Some tea and a Touch of Romance.” I’d certainly watch it.
Today’s featured book is a Mills & Boon book because of course it is. This is The Hemingford Scandal by Mary Nichols. Every paragraph tastes like toffee.
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