Ah Assam. Although I have never physically been there, I fell in love with this corner of north-eastern India back when I was a teenager, a frighteningly long time ago. I read about it in the books of Emilio Salgariâ??a master of adventure literature most of whose work, sadly, has yet to be translated into Englishâ??where a group of Malaysian, Indian and Portuguese pirates defies bloodthirsty natives, powerful Brahmins and the evil British Empire to conquer a small kingdom.

The magic of the country shines in its tea. Assam has little to do with serene meditation. Itâ??s a passionate, powerful cup that speaks of sleek tigers, lush plants and hollow baobabs that hide the entrance to secret temples. It is Picassoâ??s Cubist period, a scream of colors, textures and shapes, to the Nilgiriâ??s Canaletto â??elegant, restrained and sublimely devoid of emotion.

Of course, I am biased. I like strong teas and am incredibly partial to malty flavors. I like malty tea, malty ale (Duchy Originalâ??s Winter Ale, in particular) and malty whisky. I wonder if an excessive use of Ovaltine as a child may be to blame?

Still, the Assam I tried todayâ??Whittardâ??s House Blendâ??wasnâ??t particularly malty, as far as Assams go. I brewed according to instructions, using three teaspoons for four minutes for a six-cup teapot. The leaves had a strong scent that didnâ??t emerge with as much clarity in the liquor. The cup was a rich dark amber color with an ever so slightly caramelly nose. In the mouth, it had good body with some sweetness, the right astringency but just a hint of malt. The finish was pleasantly long, and I found it supported milk very well.

Then I went back and brewed it my wayâ??using a full four teaspoons for a six-cup pot and steeping for five minutesâ??and liked it better. But I think my tastebuds are biased.