Passionate Boadicea the Victorious 2009

No. Tastes do not change. Onion remains onion, exhaust fumes remain exhaust fumes, and honey remains honey. Yuck.

I have no idea where the aversion to the golden bee droppings comes from, but probably Grandma Gusti stirred too much of it into my hot milk (with Flott) back in the day to pump my stomach with this emetic when I accidentally licked the E605 bottle in the garden again. I don’t know.

Honey - no come on, that’s never going to wash off man; honey can please go directly to Go without collecting 5000, where is the gall soap.

Exactly my first thought during the first test of Passionate, perhaps still accompanied by a few curses directed at the giver, but I’d rather not go into that now.

Tests 2, 3, 4, and 5 confirmed:
For me, Passionate remains a single honey. And a single usually comes alone.
Yes, during the nose-on-test it’s the same; but not when you stroll from washing machine to washing machine and think, what the hell smells so good here? Sure, the laundry, but the other, that must be me.
You know how it is.

Smoky woody aromas, top-notch, until the end of the workday and beyond, persistent, dark dripping honey, bittersweet, bitter, sad, and so not gourmand.
Passionate has convinced me that honey can do something.
Excuse me, I’m going to spread some bread now.

Boadi.
100%
Always.