Whole Chamomile Flowers Tea Bags

As I write this, my muscles ache, my head hurts, my eyes feel like they're about to come out of their sockets, and I grunt every time I sit down or stand up. It was a long night at work. Usually after such a long night, only two conclusions can be reached; both beverage-related. One is beer, but alas, I'm fresh out. And currently in my pajamas. Flannel ones. I'm going nowhere. The second option? Captain Chamomile. Yet I don't want to go through the rigors of infusing loose chamomile blossoms, followed by the inevitable clean-up of blossom shavings. Luckily, there's a solution. A lazy one.

I have a pyramid bag of JING's Whole Chamomile Flowers in my possession - all the joys of loose herbs, none of the mess. JING touts the elegance of this offering by boasting the inclusion of whole chamomile blossoms. Whole, they are indeed. Granted, some of the petal shavings have broken away, creating a dust-like consistency within the bag, but that always happens. Even with the high-quality kind, and this smelled excellent.

Chamomile has one of those classic medicinal herb scents that's hard to pinpoint but easily discernible. Equal parts buttery, creamy, floral, and grassy. It smells like a sedative. I'd go as far as to say it is sedation personified. I love the stuff. Been hooked on it for years. Technically, it was the first "tea" I ever tried. JING's offering is a cut above the rest on nostril notice alone. No "rotten flower" smell, which I have encountered with other bagged varieties.

While chamomile can steep for up to six minutes, the merchant site recommended a mere three-minute infusion. They probably suggested as such so that the drinker/paycheck-earning-clock-puncher basks in the quality. I've never done a lighter steep with chamomile, so this should be an experience. I adhered to that and their suggestion of using a clear cup to watch the buds swim. I used a transparent beer mug from my work and a small ceramic plate for lid cover.

First impression was a minor gripe with pyramid sachets in general. The leaves always cause the bag to bop to the top of the glass. Any elegance in watching flowers open was clouded by this annoyance. Still, it was kinda nifty noticing small waves of color permeate from the bag, fan out, and spread the nectar throughout the water.

After three minutes, the cuppa brewed to a light orange-yellow. The mouthpiece aroma was pungent, much more so than one would expect from so transparent an infusion. It smelled of - nay, exploded with - chamomile. The taste was like the nectar descriptor I used earlier, only literal. There was a very bold honey-like quality to the flavor. Can't say I ever ran across that before without using actual honey. I lament that I had no agave nectar with me to accentuate that trait. Another interesting aspect to note was the crispness. Sure, it was smooth, but it also had a very abrupt "Here-I-Am!" floral quality to it. I would almost say, punctual...as it punched my tongue to sleep.

This was an awesome chamomile tisane. Enough to put me to sleep. I'm spent.