Of course, you may, Samurai — the herd is always hungry for new pastures of flavour. Green Moon reads like a proper blade stroke: sharp matcha, steady custard, with azuki and sesame cutting through like a well-forged katana. That sweet rice? That’s the kind of flourish that makes an old Goat stop chewing and nod in respect.
Most of us goats are too busy butting heads with peanut butter and custards to think of something this refined. You’ve brought ceremony into the barn, and I like it. Steep it slow, pour it like tea, and let the herd taste the moonlight.