This black tea is a blend of China and Ceylon teas, perfumed with aromas of honey, orange and jasmine. A sweet celestial treat. We do not know very well if it is the tea of the angels or that of the devils...
Jasmine, orange, honey
Angel Tea: A Caress of Gold and Light
Beneath the languid arches of a Moroccan palace, caressed by the jagged shadows of the mashrabiyas, a traveler let his gaze wander over the undulating reflections of a Moorish fountain. A few moments earlier, he had tasted a dessert with unforgettable oriental notes: thin slices of orange, lustrous with amber honey, sprinkled with jasmine flowers as fragile as the evening breeze. With each bite, a caress, a voluptuous shiver, a sweet sigh resting on the lips—like a fleeting dream whose taste is never forgotten.
A tea called Souvenir
Back in Paris, the memory of these emotions followed him like a persistent perfume. He sometimes, at the turn of a thought, closed his eyelids to revive the celestial ecstasy of this almost dreamed gourmand moment. It was upon discovering our Thé des Anges, in this hushed sanctuary that he called his tea shop, and that he jealously preserved, far from even the confidences of his most intimate friends, that the past once again became flesh and shiver. From the first sip, the scent of jasmine, honey like a golden oath, and the brightness of orange awakened shivers in him. And here he was again, at the crossroads of worlds, his cup in hand... both in his Parisian living room and in the blue gardens of Majorelle, languid on the deep cushions of an opulent boudoir, where even the silence seemed woven of silk, murmur and voluptuousness.
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- Black tea with sweet and sugary aromas -
This black tea is a blend of China and Ceylon teas, perfumed with aromas of honey, orange and jasmine. A sweet celestial treat. We do not know very well if it is the tea of the angels or that of the devils...
Angel Tea: A Caress of Gold and Light
Beneath the languid arches of a Moroccan palace, caressed by the jagged shadows of the mashrabiyas, a traveler let his gaze wander over the undulating reflections of a Moorish fountain. A few moments earlier, he had tasted a dessert with unforgettable oriental notes: thin slices of orange, lustrous with amber honey, sprinkled with jasmine flowers as fragile as the evening breeze. With each bite, a caress, a voluptuous shiver, a sweet sigh resting on the lips—like a fleeting dream whose taste is never forgotten.
A tea called Souvenir
Back in Paris, the memory of these emotions followed him like a persistent perfume. He sometimes, at the turn of a thought, closed his eyelids to revive the celestial ecstasy of this almost dreamed gourmand moment. It was upon discovering our Thé des Anges, in this hushed sanctuary that he called his tea shop, and that he jealously preserved, far from even the confidences of his most intimate friends, that the past once again became flesh and shiver. From the first sip, the scent of jasmine, honey like a golden oath, and the brightness of orange awakened shivers in him. And here he was again, at the crossroads of worlds, his cup in hand... both in his Parisian living room and in the blue gardens of Majorelle, languid on the deep cushions of an opulent boudoir, where even the silence seemed woven of silk, murmur and voluptuousness.
