u/eccentric_bee

I don't know if i like this painting very much, I painted it during the heat dome (I don't have air conditioning), and I think it sounds like one. I can hear cicadas in it. It feels prickly, crowded, and uncomfortable and restless.

I'd also just watched a film about lionfish. They are beautiful, invasive, full of venomous spines, and change reefs simply by existing. Somehow that worked its way into this picture too.

The more I look at it, the less I think it's about heat and the more I think it's about a landscape becoming uncomfortable to live in. The day is hot, the night is hot, and even the moon doesn't help.

I'm still undecided about the painting, but i think it does show the feelings.

https://imgur.com/a/sOYokGl

This one is finished, thanks for looking! …-------

I have three hand painted watercolor cat cards. These will come in poorly handmade envelopes and have awkward sentiments in bad handwriting inside.

The stamps will be the most common.

If this sounds like something you're interested in, leave a comment.

In about an hour I'll read the comments to my cat Mimsy. The ones she likes best, I'll message for their info.

Thanks!

This one is fulfilled! Thanks folks!

https://imgur.com/a/B4lUpXs

Two hand painted watercolor cards of women in flower gardens. I was going to offer them for the summer solstice, but time got away from me.

If you are interested, leave a comment. After an hour or so I'll read the comments out loud and the two my cat, Mimsy, likes the best will get chosen.

I'll message those two folks to get their info.

These cards will come in poorly handmade envelopes, with short messages in poor penmanship. The stamp will be the most common one you can buy.

Will It Brew: Elderflower Blossoms (Sambucus canadensis)

Foraged in June, Northern Ohio, USA

This is another in my "Will It Brew?" series, exploring wild plants through the lens of tea, broth, and flavor. Thanks for following along!

Found:

These elderflower blossoms were gathered from a large patch of elder growing along the edge of a field. The shrubs were covered in broad, creamy-white flower clusters, and their scent was impossible to miss.

Before brewing, the blossoms smelled strongly floral and sweet. The aroma reminded me of a bar of perfumed soap my grandmother kept tucked into her drawer of slips and underthings. Old-fashioned, elegant, and unapologetically flowery.

ID Notes:

Large flat-topped clusters of many tiny cream-white flowers. Opposite compound leaves with serrated leaflets. Growing as a multi-stemmed shrub at the edge of a field in Northern Ohio. Strong sweet floral fragrance noticeable several feet away from the plant.

Similar-looking plants such as water hemlock, poison hemlock, and wild parsnip were ruled out because those species have umbrella-shaped flower clusters (umbels) rather than the broad, branching flower heads of elder, and their leaves are very different.

Preparation:

I made both a hot infusion and a cold infusion.

For the hot version, I poured hot water over fresh blossoms and steeped briefly, perhaps 90 seconds.

For the cold version, I covered fresh blossoms with cool water and allowed them to infuse slowly in the refrigerator overnight.

Hot Tea:

The hot tea was lovely, both in scent and in the fresh golden-yellow color of the brew.

The flavor was intensely floral without becoming unpleasantly so. It almost tasted like what floral perfume water ought to taste like if floral perfume water actually tasted good.

I tasted hints of plum and rose, along with something faintly spicy in the background that reminded me of white pepper. The perfume-like aroma carried through into the flavor, making the tea feel surprisingly elegant and almost fancy.

Cold Brew:

The cold brew was similar, but different enough to be worth making.

It remained deeply floral, but the flavor became rounder and softer. The fruit notes moved forward while the rose character stepped back. If the hot tea felt like walking through a Victorian garden, the cold brew felt like sitting beneath a fruit tree on a warm afternoon.

The brew was nearly clear, with only the faintest yellow tint.

I tasted traces of rose, chamomile, apple, and prune. It had less perfume than the hot version and more gentle sweetness.

Oddly, while my daughter and I preferred the cold brew, I can understand why many people favor the hot version. They felt like two related but distinct drinks.

Verdict:

Absolutely.

Both the hot and cold infusions were enjoyable, though they highlighted different aspects of the blossoms. The hot version emphasized perfume and flowers, while the cold version leaned toward fruit and sweetness.

This is one I would happily brew again.

Best As:

A standalone herbal tea, lightly sweetened.

I suspect it would also blend beautifully with more tannic teas such as raspberry leaf.

A very lovely seasonal and ephemeral treat.

Would I Try Again?

Definitely.

I'd love to dry some flowers for later use, but these bushes were growing on the edge of a friend's farm and she values the berries, so I didn't harvest many blossoms. I'll be keeping an eye out for more elder growing in places where the flowers aren't already spoken for.

Flavor Strength:

Medium to strong for a flower tea. Aromatic enough to feel special, but gentle enough to drink casually.

Notes:

My daughter and I loved both versions.

The grandkids, however, were not impressed.

Their official tasting note was that it smelled like composted flowers.

Interestingly, what I experienced as a spicy note, they interpreted as decay. I found that fascinating. As usual, every tea has its audience.

Caveat:

Make sure it is actually elder (Sambucus) and not a look-alike. The flowers are distinctive once you know them, but accurate identification matters.

Use the flowers, not large amounts of leaves, bark, roots, or unripe berries. Those parts contain compounds that can cause stomach upset and should not be used casually.

Shake the flower heads rather than washing aggressively if possible. Washing removes some pollen and aroma, though of course use your judgment if the flowers are dusty or growing near a road.

Some people are sensitive to highly aromatic flowers. If it is your first time trying elderflower, a small cup is a reasonable place to start.

Harvest before the flowers begin turning brown. Freshly opened blossoms tend to have the best aroma.

Again, and as always, be certain of your identification before consuming any wild plant.

Will It Brew: Elderflower Blossoms (Sambucus canadensis)Foraged in June, Northern Ohio, USA

This is another in my "Will It Brew?" series, exploring wild plants through the lens of tea, broth, and flavor. Thanks for following along!

Found:

These elderflower blossoms were gathered from a large patch of elder growing along the edge of a field. The shrubs were covered in broad, creamy-white flower clusters, and their scent was impossible to miss.

Before brewing, the blossoms smelled strongly floral and sweet. The aroma reminded me of a bar of perfumed soap my grandmother kept tucked into her drawer of slips and underthings. Old-fashioned, elegant, and unapologetically flowery.

ID Notes:

Large flat-topped clusters of many tiny cream-white flowers. Opposite compound leaves with serrated leaflets. Growing as a multi-stemmed shrub at the edge of a field in Northern Ohio. Strong sweet floral fragrance noticeable several feet away from the plant.

Similar-looking plants such as water hemlock, poison hemlock, and wild parsnip were ruled out because those species have umbrella-shaped flower clusters (umbels) rather than the broad, branching flower heads of elder, and their leaves are very different.

Preparation:

I made both a hot infusion and a cold infusion.

For the hot version, I poured hot water over fresh blossoms and steeped briefly, perhaps 90 seconds.

For the cold version, I covered fresh blossoms with cool water and allowed them to infuse slowly in the refrigerator overnight.

Hot Tea:

The hot tea was lovely, both in scent and in the fresh golden-yellow color of the brew.

The flavor was intensely floral without becoming unpleasantly so. It almost tasted like what floral perfume water ought to taste like if floral perfume water actually tasted good.

I tasted hints of plum and rose, along with something faintly spicy in the background that reminded me of white pepper. The perfume-like aroma carried through into the flavor, making the tea feel surprisingly elegant and almost fancy.

Cold Brew:

The cold brew was similar, but different enough to be worth making.

It remained deeply floral, but the flavor became rounder and softer. The fruit notes moved forward while the rose character stepped back. If the hot tea felt like walking through a Victorian garden, the cold brew felt like sitting beneath a fruit tree on a warm afternoon.

The brew was nearly clear, with only the faintest yellow tint.

I tasted traces of rose, chamomile, apple, and prune. It had less perfume than the hot version and more gentle sweetness.

Oddly, while my daughter and I preferred the cold brew, I can understand why many people favor the hot version. They felt like two related but distinct drinks.

Verdict:

Absolutely.

Both the hot and cold infusions were enjoyable, though they highlighted different aspects of the blossoms. The hot version emphasized perfume and flowers, while the cold version leaned toward fruit and sweetness.

This is one I would happily brew again.

Best As:

A standalone herbal tea, lightly sweetened.

I suspect it would also blend beautifully with more tannic teas such as raspberry leaf.

A very lovely seasonal and ephemeral treat.

Would I Try Again?

Definitely.

I'd love to dry some flowers for later use, but these bushes were growing on the edge of a friend's farm and she values the berries, so I didn't harvest many blossoms. I'll be keeping an eye out for more elder growing in places where the flowers aren't already spoken for.

Flavor Strength:

Medium to strong for a flower tea. Aromatic enough to feel special, but gentle enough to drink casually.

Notes:

My daughter and I loved both versions.

The grandkids, however, were not impressed.

Their official tasting note was that it smelled like composted flowers.

Interestingly, what I experienced as a spicy note, they interpreted as decay. I found that fascinating. As usual, every tea has its audience.

Caveat:

Make sure it is actually elder (Sambucus) and not a look-alike. The flowers are distinctive once you know them, but accurate identification matters.

Use the flowers, not large amounts of leaves, bark, roots, or unripe berries. Those parts contain compounds that can cause stomach upset and should not be used casually.

Shake the flower heads rather than washing aggressively if possible. Washing removes some pollen and aroma, though of course use your judgment if the flowers are dusty or growing near a road.

Some people are sensitive to highly aromatic flowers. If it is your first time trying elderflower, a small cup is a reasonable place to start.

Harvest before the flowers begin turning brown. Freshly opened blossoms tend to have the best aroma.

Again, and as always, be certain of your identification before consuming any wild plant.

Will It Brew: Staghorn Sumac Blossoms (Rhus typhina)
Foraged in June, Northern Ohio, USA

This is another in my “Will It Brew?” series, exploring wild plants through the lens of tea, broth, and flavor. Thanks for following along!

Found:
These blossoms were gathered from a mature staghorn sumac growing along the edge of a woodland beside open farm fields. The tree was covered in fresh flower clusters, and the cones were absolutely dripping with pollen. While sumac berries are well known for making a tart, lemonade-like drink later in the season, I became curious about the flowers themselves.

The flower clusters were easy to harvest and very noticeable from a distance, standing above the fern-like leaves in large greenish-yellow cones.

ID Notes:
Staghorn sumac is a small tree or large shrub with long, pinnately compound leaves and fuzzy branches that resemble deer antlers in velvet. At this stage, the flower clusters were still greenish-yellow and packed with tiny blossoms. The flowers were producing large amounts of pollen.

Before brewing, I spent some time smelling the blossoms. The scent was light but pleasant, slightly sharp and fresh. I actually got pollen on my nose while trying to get a better sniff. When I brought them inside,  my daughter described the fragrance as wonderful, one of her favorite plant scents she's ever encountered.

Preparation:
I harvested two flower clusters broken from a very big one, and placed them in a teapot. Wanting to preserve the delicate aroma, I used water that was steaming hot but not fully boiling. I poured the water over the blossoms and sampled the tea repeatedly as it steeped.

I tasted it immediately after pouring, then again at one minute, two minutes, three minutes, and five minutes.

While brewing, I noticed many tiny elongated structures floating in the water. At first I was slightly grossed out, wondering if I had accidentally collected insects or eggs. A closer look at the flower clusters revealed that these were simply flower parts, likely stamens released during brewing.

I added a small amount of stevia but did not try lemon or any other additions.

Cold Brew:
I didn't try a cold infusion.

Hot Tea:
The tea was a very pale green-yellow color and looked quite attractive in the cup.

The aroma initially reflected the scent of the fresh flowers. The first sip, taken almost immediately after pouring, was lightly floral and lightly resinous. There was also an odd flavor present that I couldn't quite identify.

As the steep progressed, the pleasant floral and resin notes faded quickly while the mysterious flavor became increasingly prominent.

By the three-minute mark I finally recognized it.

The tea tasted remarkably like the water left behind after hard-boiling eggs. Not eggs themselves. The water. Especially the water from a pot where one egg cracked open slightly during cooking and released just enough aroma to taste definitely as eggs.

By five minutes, the smell alone was enough to discourage enthusiasm, and I only took a very small sip. The good news is that the flavor did not linger. Once swallowed, the taste disappeared quickly.

Flavor Notes:
Light floral notes at the very beginning, mild resin and fresh green plant flavors. That was the quick pour-over cup's flavor.

Then, increasingly, hard-boiled egg water. The progression was surprisingly dramatic. The first taste hinted at something potentially interesting, but each additional minute of steeping moved it farther away from flowers and closer to the kitchen after an Easter egg decorating afternoon.

Verdict:
Will it brew? Technically yes. But should it brew? Probably not.

The flowers smell significantly better than they taste as tea. While the aroma suggested a delicate floral tea, the cup delivered something much closer to what I water my plants with, not myself. 

Best as:
Something that stays on the tree until it turns into red berries later in the year. 

Would I try again?
Nope. 

Flavor Strength:
Light to medium. The flavor itself isn't strong, but unfortunately the dominant flavor note is distinctive enough that it doesn't need much strength to make an impression.

Notes:
This may be a case where a plant's fragrance and flavor simply part ways. The blossoms smelled light but lovely, enough to raise expectations considerably. The tea itself was attractive to look at and pleasant for approximately thirty seconds. Not the worst tisane I’ve made, but not worth trying again. One blog said that staghorn sumac blossoms make a good face wash. My guess is they made tea and didn’t want to waste it, so they washed up with it. Just my guess. 

Will It Brew: Staghorn Sumac Blossoms (Rhus typhina)
Foraged in June, Northern Ohio, USA

This is another in my “Will It Brew?” series, exploring wild plants through the lens of tea, broth, and flavor. Thanks for following along!

Found:
These blossoms were gathered from a mature staghorn sumac growing along the edge of a woodland beside open farm fields. The tree was covered in fresh flower clusters, and the cones were absolutely dripping with pollen. While sumac berries are well known for making a tart, lemonade-like drink later in the season, I became curious about the flowers themselves.

The flower clusters were easy to harvest and very noticeable from a distance, standing above the fern-like leaves in large greenish-yellow cones.

ID Notes:
Staghorn sumac is a small tree or large shrub with long, pinnately compound leaves and fuzzy branches that resemble deer antlers in velvet. At this stage, the flower clusters were still greenish-yellow and packed with tiny blossoms. The flowers were producing large amounts of pollen.

Before brewing, I spent some time smelling the blossoms. The scent was light but pleasant, slightly sharp and fresh. I actually got pollen on my nose while trying to get a better sniff. When I brought them inside,  my daughter described the fragrance as wonderful, one of her favorite plant scents she's ever encountered.

Preparation:
I harvested two flower clusters broken from a very big one, and placed them in a teapot. Wanting to preserve the delicate aroma, I used water that was steaming hot but not fully boiling. I poured the water over the blossoms and sampled the tea repeatedly as it steeped.

I tasted it immediately after pouring, then again at one minute, two minutes, three minutes, and five minutes.

While brewing, I noticed many tiny elongated structures floating in the water. At first I was slightly grossed out, wondering if I had accidentally collected insects or eggs. A closer look at the flower clusters revealed that these were simply flower parts, likely stamens released during brewing.

I added a small amount of stevia but did not try lemon or any other additions.

Cold Brew:
I didn't try a cold infusion.

Hot Tea:
The tea was a very pale green-yellow color and looked quite attractive in the cup.

The aroma initially reflected the scent of the fresh flowers. The first sip, taken almost immediately after pouring, was lightly floral and lightly resinous. There was also an odd flavor present that I couldn't quite identify.

As the steep progressed, the pleasant floral and resin notes faded quickly while the mysterious flavor became increasingly prominent.

By the three-minute mark I finally recognized it.

The tea tasted remarkably like the water left behind after hard-boiling eggs. Not eggs themselves. The water. Especially the water from a pot where one egg cracked open slightly during cooking and released just enough aroma to taste definitely as eggs.

By five minutes, the smell alone was enough to discourage enthusiasm, and I only took a very small sip. The good news is that the flavor did not linger. Once swallowed, the taste disappeared quickly.

Flavor Notes:
Light floral notes at the very beginning, mild resin and fresh green plant flavors. That was the quick pour-over cup's flavor.

Then, increasingly, hard-boiled egg water. The progression was surprisingly dramatic. The first taste hinted at something potentially interesting, but each additional minute of steeping moved it farther away from flowers and closer to the kitchen after an Easter egg decorating afternoon.

Verdict:
Will it brew? Technically yes. But should it brew? Probably not.

The flowers smell significantly better than they taste as tea. While the aroma suggested a delicate floral tea, the cup delivered something much closer to what I water my plants with, not myself. 

Best as:
Something that stays on the tree until it turns into red berries later in the year. 

Would I try again?
Nope. 

Flavor Strength:
Light to medium. The flavor itself isn't strong, but unfortunately the dominant flavor note is distinctive enough that it doesn't need much strength to make an impression.

Notes:
This may be a case where a plant's fragrance and flavor simply part ways. The blossoms smelled light but lovely, enough to raise expectations considerably. The tea itself was attractive to look at and pleasant for approximately thirty seconds. Not the worst tisane I’ve made, but not worth trying again. One blog said that staghorn sumac blossoms make a good face wash. My guess is they made tea and didn’t want to waste it, so they washed up with it. Just my guess. 

Meadow salsify, (Tragopogon pratensis) is all edible. I like the unopened flower buds especially. Lightly cooked, they are a mild, slightly nutty, veggie for nearly any dish. I recommend trimming the long tendrils, but you don't have to.

Meadow salsify, all parts are edible, though different parts are best at different times of year. (*Tragopogon pratensis*)

This was supposed to be a stir fry, with carrots, leftover pork, nettles and salsify buds, but the sheep got out and it overcooked. It was good as a hash, with rice.

Other names for *tragopogon pratensis* are Jack-go-to-bed-at-noon, noonflower, goatsbeard (there are a couple unrelated plants called goatsbeard), noontide, and other local names.

Will It Brew: Long-Styled Sweet Cicely (Osmorhiza longistylis)
Foraged in May, Northern Ohio, USA

This is another in my “Will It Brew?” series, exploring wild plants through the lens of tea, broth, and flavor. Thanks for following along!

Found:
Along grassy woodland edges in mixed sun and shade, growing among other spring plants where the ground stays slightly cool and damp. Around here, people often call this “sweet cicely,” though technically this is long-styled sweet cicely, sometimes also called aniseroot or wild sweet anise. 

The scent gives it away immediately. Even brushing the leaves releases a black licorice smell. Once picked, smell the stem where you cut it. It should immediately give a black jelly bean scent. If not, you may have identified it wrong, so don’t use it. 

When I picked this batch, it instantly reminded me of the little red-wrapped anise seed hard candies my grandmother used to hand out for upset stomachs.

ID Notes:
A delicate-looking woodland edge plant in the carrot family, with small white umbrella-shaped flower clusters, sharply toothed divided leaves, and reddish stems. The scent is one of the most useful clues. Crushed leaves and stems smell distinctly of anise or black licorice. This one was carefully identified before brewing. As always with members of the carrot family, caution matters, since some relatives are edible and aromatic while others are dangerously toxic.

You can dig the roots, but for tea, the leaves, stems, flowers and tiny green seed pods are fine. The seed pods are strong, so you may want to use them sparingly. 

Preparation:
This time I harvested only the above-ground portions of the plant, leaves, stems, and flowers. The plants I found had not yet gone to seed. I used the stems too. They have a nice taste fresh, though when dried, the stems become almost tasteless. 

I did not dig roots for this batch. I used a generous loose handful, perhaps a quarter cup or a bit more once chopped, in a small four-cup glass teapot. I poured hot water over the fresh plant material and let it steep covered for about five or six minutes. After tasting it plain, I added a small amount of white sugar. Later, I stirred in a squeeze of lime juice just to see whether the color would shift. It did, to a clear, very pale pink. 

Cold Brew:
Didn’t try it yet, though I may later. The fresh flavor feels bright enough that it might work cold, especially mixed with something mild and floral. It might be a lovely cold brew. 

Hot Tea:
The tea brewed a bright yellow-green, almost glowing in the glass pot. The scent rising from the steam was sweet and distinctly anise-like, but softer and greener than I expected. The flavor was genuinely excellent. If black jelly beans and a mild green tea had a very pleasant baby you could drink. 

The licorice flavor was very present without becoming medicinal or overwhelming. The stems and flowers kept it tasting fresh and lively rather than heavy. There was almost no bitterness and very little astringency. It was smooth, sweet-herbal, and easy to drink.

After adding lime juice, the color shifted from vivid yellow-green to a paler, faintly pink-clear tone. The effect was subtle, but pretty.

Flavor Notes:
This was one of the more immediately enjoyable teas I’ve tried in this series. The flavor is recognizable right away, sweet anise and black licorice, but gentler and greener than candies or fennel tea. Underneath that is something fresh and springlike, almost like a soft green tea without the grassy bitterness.

The sugar helped round the flavor slightly, though it was already pleasant plain. Nothing muddy, harsh, or medicinal appeared in the cup. It stayed smooth all the way through.

Verdict:
Will it brew? Absolutely. Not merely “interesting,” but really delicious. This is one I would happily make again just because I wanted to drink it, not because I was curious. I’m already considering encouraging it around the property if I can do so responsibly.  I am looking forward to playing with the roots and seed pods into and also beyond tea. 

Best as:
A standalone herbal tea, lightly sweetened. I suspect it would also blend beautifully with mild green tea, linden, or perhaps even a little lemon balm. But really, it was just nice by itself. 

Would I try again?
Definitely. Next time I may experiment with drying the leaves and flowers to see how much flavor they retain, since this feels like one that might actually deserve jar space in winter.

Flavor Strength:
Medium. Strong enough to clearly taste, but gentle enough to drink casually.

Notes:
This feels less like a novelty tea and more like something that could become part of a seasonal tea rotation. The fresh plant smells wonderful even before brewing, and the color in the pot was beautiful on a gray spring day.

Caveat:
As always, careful identification matters enormously with members of the carrot family (Apiaceae), since some relatives are dangerously toxic. Do not forage carrot-family plants casually from photographs alone. I tried only a small amount at first to make sure it agreed with me. This post reflects personal experience, not medical advice. 

Will It Brew: Long-Styled Sweet Cicely (Osmorhiza longistylis)
Foraged in May, Northern Ohio, USA

This is another in my “Will It Brew?” series, exploring wild plants through the lens of tea, broth, and flavor. Thanks for following along!

Found:
Along grassy woodland edges in mixed sun and shade, growing among other spring plants where the ground stays slightly cool and damp. Around here, people often call this “sweet cicely,” though technically this is long-styled sweet cicely, sometimes also called aniseroot or wild sweet anise. 

The scent gives it away immediately. Even brushing the leaves releases a black licorice smell. Once picked, smell the stem where you cut it. It should immediately give a black jelly bean scent. If not, you may have identified it wrong, so don’t use it. 

When I picked this batch, it instantly reminded me of the little red-wrapped anise seed hard candies my grandmother used to hand out for upset stomachs.

ID Notes:
A delicate-looking woodland edge plant in the carrot family, with small white umbrella-shaped flower clusters, sharply toothed divided leaves, and reddish stems. The scent is one of the most useful clues. Crushed leaves and stems smell distinctly of anise or black licorice. This one was carefully identified before brewing. As always with members of the carrot family, caution matters, since some relatives are edible and aromatic while others are dangerously toxic.

You can dig the roots, but for tea, the leaves, stems, flowers and tiny green seed pods are fine. The seed pods are strong, so you may want to use them sparingly. 

Preparation:
This time I harvested only the above-ground portions of the plant, leaves, stems, and flowers. The plants I found had not yet gone to seed. I used the stems too. They have a nice taste fresh, though when dried, the stems become almost tasteless. 

I did not dig roots for this batch. I used a generous loose handful, perhaps a quarter cup or a bit more once chopped, in a small four-cup glass teapot. I poured hot water over the fresh plant material and let it steep covered for about five or six minutes. After tasting it plain, I added a small amount of white sugar. Later, I stirred in a squeeze of lime juice just to see whether the color would shift. It did, to a clear, very pale pink. 

Cold Brew:
Didn’t try it yet, though I may later. The fresh flavor feels bright enough that it might work cold, especially mixed with something mild and floral. It might be a lovely cold brew. 

Hot Tea:
The tea brewed a bright yellow-green, almost glowing in the glass pot. The scent rising from the steam was sweet and distinctly anise-like, but softer and greener than I expected. The flavor was genuinely excellent. If black jelly beans and a mild green tea had a very pleasant baby you could drink. 

The licorice flavor was very present without becoming medicinal or overwhelming. The stems and flowers kept it tasting fresh and lively rather than heavy. There was almost no bitterness and very little astringency. It was smooth, sweet-herbal, and easy to drink.

After adding lime juice, the color shifted from vivid yellow-green to a paler, faintly pink-clear tone. The effect was subtle, but pretty.

Flavor Notes:
This was one of the more immediately enjoyable teas I’ve tried in this series. The flavor is recognizable right away, sweet anise and black licorice, but gentler and greener than candies or fennel tea. Underneath that is something fresh and springlike, almost like a soft green tea without the grassy bitterness.

The sugar helped round the flavor slightly, though it was already pleasant plain. Nothing muddy, harsh, or medicinal appeared in the cup. It stayed smooth all the way through.

Verdict:
Will it brew? Absolutely. Not merely “interesting,” but really delicious. This is one I would happily make again just because I wanted to drink it, not because I was curious. I’m already considering encouraging it around the property if I can do so responsibly.  I am looking forward to playing with the roots and seed pods into and also beyond tea. 

Best as:
A standalone herbal tea, lightly sweetened. I suspect it would also blend beautifully with mild green tea, linden, or perhaps even a little lemon balm. But really, it was just nice by itself. 

Would I try again?
Definitely. Next time I may experiment with drying the leaves and flowers to see how much flavor they retain, since this feels like one that might actually deserve jar space in winter.

Flavor Strength:
Medium. Strong enough to clearly taste, but gentle enough to drink casually.

Notes:
This feels less like a novelty tea and more like something that could become part of a seasonal tea rotation. The fresh plant smells wonderful even before brewing, and the color in the pot was beautiful on a gray spring day.

Caveat:
As always, careful identification matters enormously with members of the carrot family (Apiaceae), since some relatives are dangerously toxic. Do not forage carrot-family plants casually from photographs alone. I tried only a small amount at first to make sure it agreed with me. This post reflects personal experience, not medical advice.