listening to leaves

Winter tea tasting

2011-12-08T13:41:00.000-08:00

Portland Japanese Garden (Portland, OR), photo by David M Cobb

This time of year is so full of activity for me. I'm not complaining, but it makes it even more challenging to spend some time to sit and prepare a nice blog entry. Recently a friend generously sent me a box of samples to try and I've been slowly making my way through them (veerrryyy slowly!). This friend had expressed interest in learning my experiences with these teas and it struck me today that I might as well post these to this blog. Unfortunately, I didn't take photographs during my sessions so the images posted here are with thanks and credit to others. If you don't mind, I'll simply paste in my letter below (with minimal tweaking, and links to online sources for the teas). More tea adventures :)

Dear Friend,
Holiday times can get crazy busy, it's true. But it's good practice for me to relax into the flow and not get contracted around the stress and scheduling. I spent the last week taking part in a workshop, which has certainly pinched me for time. But it was focused essentially on a sort of deep steeping (I guess you could call it meditation) in "Am-ness." Several Buddhist friends took part (seemed to be a predominance of nygma/dzogchen folks). The work we did was very much in keeping with their practices.

Portland Japanese Garden (Portland, OR), photo by Allan Bruce Zee

I've sampled a few of the teas you generously sent me and have been meaning to send you some notes on my experiences with them, as you'd mentioned you were interested in that. I trust you're not holding too dearly to any hope of specific reactions on my part :) It struck me the other day that favorite teas are a lot like favorite books. One can read a book and find great resonance in it and enthusiastically recommend it to others, but that's little guarantee others will find the same resonance. I suppose it simply speaks to the uniquely varying "place" or degree of readiness/openness we all find ourselves in at any given moment. In other words, please don't place too much stock in my review of these teas. :)

I've been hinting at it on my blog, but it bears repeating here. My preferences with tea lean heavily toward puerh, particularly older puer. I've been sampling other kinds of teas, as well as the occasional younger puer, trying to gently open myself more in those ways to learn other kinds of appreciation. I'm thankful for the teas you've sent me in that they offer further invitation to expand my palate.

I first sat with the 2008 Mengku "Sage Verse" tea. Loved the sound of it -- sage verse. I prepared it in the yixing pot I use mostly for older puer and used my usual water for it (there's an artesian well not far from my house with a constant flow of water, free to the public and even periodically tested by the local water department to make sure it's safe for drinking). While this tea is still very young, exhibiting that familiar initial aroma of hay and showing much youth in the taste, it placed itself apart from 'typical' in that it emphasized savory notes throughout the session. Savory vegetable aromas and clean scents of butter and baked bread toward later infusions. I've come to sense that a younger puer which displays this kind of savory-ness might perhaps be a good candidate for aging, but I say this not because I've actually experienced teas from youth to age with this quality, but because I've found that a good number of the young puers touted on others' blogs as having great aging potential also seem to exhibit this savory-ness. This 2008 Mengku had that ring to it.

Ryuanji Temple Tea House in Kyoto, Japan

Taste/mouth-wise I didn't find this one too exciting. No matter how much I pushed the tea it never really delivered much in the way of pronounced flavor or mouth feel. I found it to be watery and thin throughout the session, but thankfully you've sent me enough so I can sample it a few more times. It could very well be that there's a learning curve to it that I haven't hit upon yet. I did sense a bit of hui gan, although it was very light. The kuwei was light, as well. There were a few surprised in the session -- at one point I got a wonderful whiff of bittersweet cocoa from the wet leaves in the pot. Perhaps a hint of what's ahead for this tea with age? At another point there was a pleasant rising of sweetness at the back of the tongue as I took my time between infusions. Love that sort of thing :)

The qi was felt as a gentle mellowing buzz accompanied by an alertness and quickening in the chest, which might also just be attributable to it's youth.

Another tea I've had the chance to sit with is the Balhyocha from Dao Tea. I was intrigued by your mention of it being unique. I hadn't known about the company and website you purchased this one from. Really appreciated how their teas were attributed to their makers, referred to as the artisans. So true :) Drinking a tea that's been honored like that certainly comes through in the session. I've rarely strayed outside of Chinese or Taiwanese-made teas. This was my first experience with a Korean tea. From the description on the website I decided to use a gaiwan with not-quite-boiling water. My first impression of the aroma was of something oolong-like, but then it soon settled into sweet dry raisins and fine wood. Not knowing exactly how to prepare this tea I approached it very gently with a short 3-4 second first infusion. The taste was definitely interesting! My notes say "strangely sweet, but light," so I upped the infusion times. The aroma throughout the session was beautiful and pronounced, a very sweet resinous wood, later taking on rich leather tones mixed in with sweet wood. A very sweet and rich tea in both aroma and taste. My notes are filled with references to it being very enjoyable and drinkable. Long lasting, too. The longer I drank it, the more it began to remind me of hong cha and yet it was uniquely it's own character. Neither hong cha nor oolong, only distant echoes here and there. An easy tea to drink. Not hugely complex like a good puer, but definitely richly rewarding.

My December schedule is just about to kick into high gear as my youngest son's 18th birthday is this Friday, and then it's a full court press until Christmas. Kind of feels like being on a roller coaster as it's just about to hit the apex of that first big downward whoosh! Might as well throw my arms up in the air and let the fun begin :)

- bev

Tea with old man Tcheng

2011-11-17T12:38:00.000-08:00

Old man Tcheng, he said (speaking directly to my bald-headed nitwit self):

I, old Tcheng, do not intervene to maintain, modify or change the course of things by following the desires of the individual mind. Let there be neither distrust nor revolt but only the necessary act. If I behave in a different way with you, it is so that you might, at last, by yourself, directly see original spirit instead of always seeking it through the mediation of dead fellows or by running after scatterbrains like me.

My own manner, indeed, is to shake you like a sapling in the mountain wind. Thus, I break up all your struts and props and, there you are, all undone, with nothing more to hold on to. But since I sap up all that you rely upon and, thus, you are filled with fear, you say, to reassure yourself, that I sin against the law and convention and am but a vile blasphemer. So you go on desperately clinging to appearance and accessories instead of letting them depart from you by themselves, without striving to hold onto them.

My words find no echo in you, so I play a trick on you and tell you they come from a great and famous fellow who has been dead for centuries. But you still do not understand that they are your direct and immediate concern. On the contrary, you seize on them as something precious, good for keeping and to cultivate. Bald-head, by holding onto your futilities, you simply waste your life away and the evidence of original spirit slips through your fingers. What a shipwreck for you!

Nitwit, original spirit does not appear when sleep leaves you and does not disappear when sleep comes to you. Original spirit is nothing and is totally independent of that which changes and dies.

If original spirit were truly your sole occupation, you would see all that alters and dies in the same way that you perceive the movements that dancers give to their streamers, and would resolve to constantly seek that which in you neither varies nor dies and , once you find it, then not one of the thousand worlds could divert you in your thoughts for the instant of a flash or in the slightest degree make you stray from it in your actions.

You believe you aspire to original spirit but you only actually seek the satisfaction of a condition, or learning, and of merit. Because of this, nincompoop, you are entirely under the fascination of all that in you and outside of you is not steadfast and just dies.

That is why the sayings of old Tcheng simply go through you without making an impression, like the birds which leave no trace in the sky.

Bald pate, all that you think and say concerning original spirit is but the erring and wandering of your own puny little mind. To that which nature spontaneously brings you, you respond only after interpretting it through all that you have placed on a pedestal above your head.

Baldy, this being as artificial as the dragons made for festivals, how can you hope to see original spirit in its spontaneity?

In my youth, I went all round the land giving myself up to study and practices. I associated with those who had strayed and, imagining they had found the light, did nothing but cause others to stray. Then, I met him who enabled me to see all the useless mud I bore with me. The way of truth appeared to me and original spirit became my sole occupation. And, one day, everything suddenly collapsed into awareness.

I, old Tcheng, do not imitate so and so, or such and such a one. I hold to no belief, no school of thought do I follow, no one’s disciple am I. In my true nature I know nothing, I own nothing, I am nothing… for there is no old Tcheng there! In the ordinary way, the things in which I take part, of themselves, just flow by, pass away on their own. Even original spirit is no longer my concern.

The words I speak to you come not from that which is learnt.

Shaved skull, I have hidden nothing from you. What profit is there for you? Nothing but stuff and nonsense!

Exit old man Tcheng

1970's Da Ye Loose Leaf raw puerh

2011-11-10T13:14:00.000-08:00

... or, why I love puerh. It's been some time since I've sat with a puer (puerh, pu-erh, poo on this whole 'correct spelling' thing, you know what kind of tea I'm referring to), although my break from it was only partially intentional. But the longer I stayed away, the more I wondered what I would find upon my return. I finally broke my puerh-fast this morning with a pot of Essence of Tea's 1970's Da Ye Loose Leaf.

There are those who love puerh, and there are those who decidedly don't despite their love of other kinds of tea. "Like drinking dirt," they say (probably not unlike my assessment of single malt scotch as "like drinking airplane fuel"). And even among puerh drinkers there are further sub-groups -- those who mostly drink young puer, those who only drink aged puer, those in search of a good investment, those in search of a good tea-high, etc. My time away from puer has allowed me to learn some appreciation for other kinds of tea but has also left me wondering, just what is it exactly that makes puer so enjoyable (for me)? Because yes, the "tastes like dirt/wood" assessment can't be denied in many cases, especially with older puer (although that doesn't mean it's a bad thing). Such was the curiosity I brought to my tea session today.

the beautiful interior glaze of the cup

The choosing of the tea and the tea cup (this morning's tea cup, my favorite to drink puerh from, one of Petr Novak's wood-fired beauties), the placement of the setting, the warming of the yixing pot and cup... all part of the enjoyment, and while this 'ritual' is not unique to drinking puer, I find that I naturally bring more awareness to these when drinking something aged and rare. If it can be said that there is 'life' in these old dried leaves (and if one goal of drinking tea is to facilitate the expression of this life essence), then thoughtful attention of this sort is meaningful and purposeful and adds immeasurably to the experience.

The water boiled and poured into the pot for the first wetting. The initial aroma is all storage and age. It's a smell I've come to appreciate for the way it evokes deep, often unconscious memory. This is part of the magic of good aged puer. Now and then I'll have an actual articulable memory surface, but more often it's simply a palpable sense of connection to a vague and distant past which serves to ground my awareness at a deeper level than is usual in my waking day. A great 'entrance' to a sitting with some very good tea.

A quick rinse and then patience and quiet as the leaves sit in the darkness of the warmed pot, pulling water into their inner spaces, activating what has lain dormant to new life. What entered the pot as clear boiled water now pours into the cup, darkened with the first giving forth of the leaves. Even before taking the first sip I'm treated to a heavenly sweet vanilla scent rising with the steam. You just don't get scents like this from artificially flavored teas. This kind of subtlety and complexity is something that can't be imitated. Yet another reason why I love puerh. And the fragrance now coming from the wetted leaves in the pot? All overripe fruit mixed with good earth, rising warm and humid like a sleepy afternoon in the shade of an orchard tree on a late summer day (having grown up around orchards it's a memory-soaked scent I love).

Given the age of this tea I watch for the cloud feet. They're there alright, barely moving on the surface, slowed with age, a contrast to the flashing, fast-moving cloud feet sometimes seen on younger teas. I've been contemplating this matter of age lately. The past-present-future. Nondualists (and others) are fond of saying there is no actual substance to past or future, there is only the present; the now. True enough. And yet. Is it just our mental constructs about age and past that make drinking aged puer a wholly different experience than young puer? I don't have an answer to that, but it occurs to me that an aged puer is perhaps a long accumulation of nows.. traces of nows that have piled up like fallen autumn leaves, changing and decomposing into new expressions of what once was.

Although not all puerhs exhibit strong qi (and completely ignoring the debate on what qi is at all, not unlike the fussiness over puer/puerh/pu'er/etc), the best ones do exhibit "movement" in the body of the drinker, and this one is no exception. Yet another reason for my love of good puer. Just as aroma and taste vary from tea to tea (and from sitting to sitting even with a single tea), the qi that a tea exhibits is changeable, as well. My experience with the Da Ye loose leaf this morning found a spreading warmth my chest and the faintest rise of perspiration to my temples and cheeks, causing a greater sensitivity to the slightest breeze in the air. I welcome the enhanced awareness. Does this mean someone else will experience this same phenomena when drinking this tea? Maybe yes, maybe no. There are so many factors at play. No definable "best" or "right." I can only speak to my own experience. One man's "tastes like dirt" is another man's (or woman's) drink of bliss :)

Cultivate the beauty that draws you :)

Ryota Aoki, ceramic artist

2011-11-08T10:49:00.000-08:00

Some eye candy for you, from a young Japanese ceramic artist, Ryota Aoki. I stumbled upon his work recently and was struck by the quiet, subtle aesthetic of his pieces. Very much in keeping with the Way of Tea, I think. It's not easy to find his work outside of Japan, but I see that Ippodo Gallery in NY has had a few solo shows of his. Also, Tortoise in Venice, CA has some of his pieces for sale.

Red Circle Tea's Ying De red tea

2011-11-03T13:14:00.000-07:00

Red Circle Tea's Keemun red tea

Well, it's been quite some time, hasn't it? I've been up to all sorts of tea mischief and sacrilege. Although my love of puer is set in stone I've been sampling other kinds of tea more recently, feeling called to expand my knowledge and appreciation. I've even been trying out flavored teas, curious to know what the experience of "vanilla jasmine" or "coconut pouchong" is like. For the most part, I haven't enjoyed many of these flavored teas. I find them one-dimensional with lots of (often cloying) aroma and very little taste. But a few have made for fun "light" drinking, most notably some of the teas that Golden Moon Tea carries. After trying many flavored teas from many companies, I think what makes Golden Moon's teas a notch better is that they begin with a higher quality leaf. I was surprised to find nothing but whole beautiful leaves in my cup with their coconut pouchong. They also strike a good balance with their flavoring elements.

But the tea I've been drinking a lot more of lately is red tea, or hong cha, which many Westerners regard as black tea. Now I'm no expert on this type of tea. I didn't grow up drinking English Breakfast tea and never developed a liking for the mainstay Lipton variety tea you find all over the US. Rather, I'm coming to red tea with the mind and experience of a puer drinker, searching for depth and complexity and that certain wow-factor. I've sampled plenty of red teas that remind me very much of what's generally known as plain old black tea here in the US. They haven't impressed me. I finally found something different, special and memorable in some of the red teas that Red Circle Tea carries. Specifically, their Ying De red tea, which (not surprisingly) they report as their best-selling red tea. It's a 2010 spring harvest red tea from the Guangdong region of China, and it's got plenty of wow.

I confess I didn't take notes on this tea while drinking it, and since I only ordered a sample I haven't had the chance to revisit it yet. But when I find my mind haunted by the experience and taste of a certain tea, eliciting an ever-growing longing for it, I know I've hit on something good. It had depth and complexity, with an intoxicating malty sweet berry fragrance and taste that dove deep. I remember earlier this year when Brett Boynton (of Black Dragon Tea Bar and Phoenix Tea Shop) served me a similarly wonderful red/black tea that he was very impressed with, but at the time I was drinking puer exclusively and so didn't take him up on the offer of acquiring some. My mistake. I'm so happy to have found something very similar now in this Ying De tea.

a bit of golden halo on the Keemun red

Another Red Circle Tea I've been enjoying very much is their Keemun red tea, another 2010 spring harvest, this one from Anhui, China. It seems that Keemun teas are a primary component of English Breakfast variety teas, and while I can detect a similarity in taste and aroma this tea strikes me as particularly noteworthy. But remember! I didn't grow up drinking English Breakfast and my few experiences with it (long ago) have all been from cheap store-bought tea bags. So it's quite safe to say that I wouldn't know a good English Breakfast tea from a bad one. All I'm going on here is what and how I've learned to appreciate tea from drinking puer, and I'm finding this Keemun tea is making for some very enjoyable tea sessions.

Speaking of puer, I see that Red Circle Tea has a small selection although I haven't sampled any. Only one cake (cooked) and a few somewhat-aged loose leaf puerhs, along with a couple of bricks and a tuo. At least they don't offer those little generic mini-tuos, and what they do offer is well-described with regard to year and quality. In fact, I really like that all of their teas are shown with detailed descriptions and (so far as I can tell) spot-on tasting notes. I even received a classy little "tea menu" with my sample order that I thought was a very nice touch.

One last tea-related update -- Chinese tea eggs!! I love-love-love these and made up a batch for a potluck recently. They turned out wonderfully. The key (in my opinion) to tasty tea eggs is to let them soak in the tea liquid AT LEAST overnight. Those "soak for a few hours" recipes just don't do it. I like my tea eggs well-flavored! Here's the recipe I use --

Chinese Tea Eggs

1 dozen eggs
1 1/2+ cup soy sauce (more if liquid needs replenishing after simmering)
3 star anise pods
a good-sized chunk of decent shu puer leaves (as if you were going to make a pot for two or three friends)
2 cinnamon sticks
1 Tb. sugar
a few whole cloves
a teaspoon of five-spice powder (just to be sure, although it's a repeat of the above ingredients, but like I said -- I like my tea eggs well seasoned!)

Boil the eggs in plain water for 3-5 minutes, enough to begin to solidify the the egg whites but not so long that you completely hard-boil them. Remove from heat and place under cool running water just long enough to be able to handle them without burning your fingers. Once they're cool enough to handle crack the shell of each egg individually using the back of a spoon. You want to crack them pretty well so that the shells are lumpy and uneven but still attached to the inner membrane. If you end up causing a few deeper cracks into the softly solidified egg whites then it's all the better (it allows the flavorful marinating liquid to really penetrate deeply). Put the eggs back into the boiling pot with enough water to just barely cover them. Add the rest of the ingredients and bring the pot to boiling again. Once it's at boiling reduce heat to a simmer. Cover the pot and let it simmer for about 40 minutes. If you need to add more liquid, add additional soy sauce. After 40 minutes of simmering let the eggs cool in the marinating liquid and then transfer to a large glass bowl to set in the refrigerator overnight (some people let them sit for two or three nights in the fridge). Peel and enjoy :)

Yixing find

2011-08-10T21:54:00.000-07:00

my small (but growing) collection

In this part of the country (maybe everywhere, I don't know) we have these places called "antique malls." Its usually a very large building with rows and aisles of shelves and display cabinets in which anyone can rent a small space to sell their old items. There are dozens (or even hundreds in very large buildings) of individual sellers with items for sale in any one 'mall.' Its sort of like an enormous concentrated yard sale but without all the outgrown kids clothes and toys. Inevitably, each seller's rented space tells a little story. This person was a big collector of figurines, that person was probably a war veteran... I'm always curious about the stories behind the items on the shelves.

I was recently browsing through one of these antique malls when I came upon a small but interesting display cabinet. Several shelves were full of paraphernalia from the Chinese Cultural Revolution. Bright red stamps and booklets and commemorative coins, all with pictures of Chairman Mao. Another shelf displayed a variety of fine porcelain pieces and an opium pipe. Yet another shelf was stacked with a dozen large rolled up scrolls, some with fine calligraphy and others with beautiful paintings. Although the price tags on these items seemed to reflect that the owner knew something of their worth, nothing seemed unreasonably expensive.

Of course, the item that caught my eye was a small yixing tea pot. The knob of the lid was a carved goldfish and it sat on three more goldfish as the feet of the tea pot. As I looked at it closely through the glass I could see that the workmanship, while nice, was not top quality. The goldfish were a little crudely modeled, their eyes painted with a shiny black glaze. The spout was slightly misshapen too, and was attached to the pot without smoothing down the seam. I didn't buy it at that time but found myself thinking about it more and more as one week, then two went by.

It wasn't hugely expensive--well under $100--and given the quality and history of all the other items on the shelves from this particular seller, I started to think it might be a worthwhile purchase. I decided to go back today to have another look. The color of the clay was dark and purplish -- a good sign, I thought. Of my small collection of tea pots, my best (and most expensive) pot is the one I purchased from Best Tea House in Richmond, BC. It stands out from the others by its deep purple-brown color, and I remember that many of the high quality teapots that were for sale at BTH were that same dark color. Looking again at the yixing in the antique mall I could see it was also a similar color. Is that a guarantee of good quality? I know better than to think that, but at least its an indication of the possibility.

I had the sales clerk remove it from the cabinet so I could handle it and take a closer look. Everything was intact. No chips or cracks. The fit of the lid was perfect and snug. The best surprise was when I opened it to look inside. There was another little carved goldfish down in the bottom of the pot! That's what clinched it for me. High quality or not, it was just too cute to pass up at that price. If only I knew something of the story behind this yixing and all the other items on the shelves. There were clues, though. On another shelf were about a dozen old photos. The newest of them appeared to be taken in the 1940's or 50's given the appearance of the photos and the Western-style clothing worn by the very beautiful and fashionable Chinese women in them. A few of the photos were portraits of what appeared to be highly decorated soldiers and men in uniform (Chinese). Some of the photos were much older, showing pictures of what appeared to be very dignified Chinese men and women and families, all wearing very traditional and formal-looking dress. I purchased two of the photos, shown here. The lower picture of the group of men had the date "1885" on it.

I have no idea of the quality of this tea pot. When I brought it home I noticed streaks of what looks like black ink or paint on it. Had someone wiped it with a dark pigment to highlight the details of the goldfish, or maybe to make it appear older than it really was? There was a curious silvery powder inside the pot too, that had accumulated around the carved goldfish and which had settled into the 7-hole screen. I have NO idea what that would be from. I tried to wipe off the black streaks with water but it didn't affect them at all.

As for the maker's marks, there's a well-defined stamp on the bottom of the pot and a not-so-well-defined stamp inside the lid. I have no idea what they say or signify, but at least it didn't have "Made in China" anywhere :) I asked the people who run the mall to give my name to the seller in the hopes that he'll contact me and maybe tell me something about the photos and the items he has for sale. It seems a great shame to lose the stories of the people connected to these beautiful things.

wonderful picture

2011-07-29T02:42:00.000-07:00

Dilgo Khyentse Rinpoche and his gurus.

. . .

2011-07-27T16:13:00.000-07:00

Wanderer, there is no path --

the path is made by walking.

...

Wanderer, there is no path --

only traces of foam upon the sea.

-- Antonio Machado

2009 Spring Jinggu Purple Bud Big Tree tuo

2011-07-26T16:14:00.000-07:00

I’ve been drinking a lot of well-aged 20+ year puerh lately, and to dangerous levels (dangerous for my pocketbook, that is). I love it so much but my mind has been prodding me to return again to younger sheng and not neglect the learning it can offer. So it is that I sat down with this sample from Peak Pu-Er (also known as Summit Tea Company), the 2009 Jinggu Purple Bud Big Tree tuo, which comes packaged in a wild hot-pink technicolor box (if you buy the whole tuo) that looks straight out of 1971.

(image from JK Tea Shop website)

You don’t read much about these Peak/Summit Company teas (at least not on the blogs I read) and I’ve often wondered why. Though pricey they’re not the only producer asking these kinds of prices, and if they’re made with the kind of top-choice leaves and great care as they claim, then it’s no wonder they cost what they do. But anybody can make claims like these and charge exorbitant amounts, so the real proof is in the pudding (or tea, in this case). J These teas aren’t available through the usual well-known vendors, either. I’ve only seen them for sale through JK Tea Shop, located in Guangzhou, China, and JAS eTea, in the US.

I’ll admit I wasn’t planning to sit with just one tea this morning. I’ve got a bag full of Peak tea samples and given my current attitude toward younger sheng I figured I’d just slam through several in one session, paying more attention to feel than flavor and picking out any that might strike me as particularly strong in that way. I’m still haunted by an incredible gushu maocha from the Jing Mai region that a friend gave me recently to try. The hui gan was out of this world, coupled with a nice thick mouth feel, lots of activity, and good complexity of aroma and flavor. It’s become the standard by which I now judge young sheng (but don’t quote me on this, I’m hardly qualified although I’ve cut my teeth some now).

Opening the sample bag of this tea I’m struck by the beauty of the offering. Two perfectly perfect chunks from the tuo, featuring gorgeous glossy purplish-black buds and tips that look to be compressed with just the right amount of pressure. Pretty indeed, but never judge a book by its cover, right? I had little problem separating out about 7 or so grams of whole leaves, adding them to the gaiwan. After a quick rinse the aroma is young, to be sure, but features more dry sharp fruit than is usual with a newer sheng. Prior to my recent string of well-aged puerhs I’d been focusing on a series of different Lao Ban Zhang teas, so with that still in my memory I keep the first infusion short at 8 seconds (after only one rinse). The aroma deepens this time, with some added savory, almost meaty notes. The mouth feel is hugely thick and there’s a deep cooling to the throat, but the taste is extremely light and watery indicating that maybe it could stand a more aggressive steeping.

Second infusion, 20 seconds. The aroma has pulled back considerably, although some caramel-like notes are added this time. The taste remains light but with some honeyed fruitiness now and a faint bitterness at the very back of the tongue that soon spreads around the mouth and to the throat. The mouth feel remains thick, and there’s a cooling sensation deep in the throat that seems to grow in intensity long after the sip. There’s hui gan present as well, light but long-lasting. The color of the tea is a dark clear yellow, leaning slightly toward brown. But still, I’m thinking this tea needs a heavier hand in brewing. I want to know what it has to give.

Third infusion, 50 seconds. Yeah, I pushed this one and the tea finally responds with some bite, but the aroma remains subdued -- a young sheng new-mown hay scent with a floral quality and added layers of high fruity notes and deeper honey and vanilla notes. Sometimes I get the feeling that when the aroma pulls back like this it’s a possible indication that I’ve been too long with the infusion. Or sometimes it’s just an indication of a weakness in the tea. Hard to tell at this point which it is. Once again this tea’s most notable qualities are a pronounced cooling down into the throat, a warmth deep in the chest and a light but long-lasting hui gan. The mouth feel remains very thick. With this infusion I also experience a sweet aftertaste to the flavor.

Fourth infusion, 45 seconds. Thinking I might have pushed the last infusion a bit far I try a little less with this one. The aroma gains strength this time with good complexity and nuance, and the mouth feel is thicker than ever. Did I just hit a sweet spot with infusion time? I wonder. The mouth activity is huge, leaving my mouth tingling and alive, nearly buzzing, with that recognizable clean feeling around the edges of the tongue. Floral notes rise on the breath now and the kuwei, while present, plays nice and stays mostly behind the mouth activity. The bitterness is definitely not as pronounced as a LBZ tea, but then I guess that’s to be expected. The warmth that has been growing in the chest moves fully into the torso now, full of real strength, with a deep cooling to the throat that lingers long after the sip.

Funny, I wasn’t finding this tea terrifically impressive with the first 3 infusions and was thinking it might be time to brew up another sample. But that 4^th infusion – wow, nice J

Fifth infusion, 60 seconds. The aroma remains strong for this one. It even has it’s own thickness due to the multiple layers of high and low notes. Overall this infusion is much like the last, although perhaps a little bit less strong. Probably the 4^th infusion was the peak, as it often is. I’m watching for the movement of qi now, which at this point seems to be staying low and full in the body. Very different from the qi of an early 70’s puerh I drank yesterday, which tended to settle mostly in the head.

I did several more infusions with this tea and it continued to be very enjoyable, maintaining a very thick mouth feel and offering good complexity and nuance, although more so in aroma than flavor. The qi aspect continued to develop, eventually rising all the way to the head with a definite hot/yang quality to it. Even several hours after drinking this tea I could still feel a pool of pronounced warmth in the belly. Certainly a good “drink now” puerh, but will it age well? I don’t enough to know. If it’s true that puerhs which show strong, even aggressive flavors (along with all the other “how the tea feels” factors) while young are the best aging candidates, then this one might not do so well. Clearly its strength is in the “feel” category and not so much in “taste.” But in the matter of “feel” it has a lot going for it. The taste wasn't bad at all, in fact quite nice, but not as strong and forthcoming as some others I've had. Of course, having drank mostly LBZ teas in the recent past my viewpoint on this might be a little skewed.

Just as the dry compressed leaves made for a pretty picture, so do the spent leaves. Nothing but healthy thick bud-tips present. Not a single leaf or “chop” in sight.

雲腳, Feet of the Cloud

2011-07-21T12:40:00.000-07:00

A fine mist is filling the air today in Seattle, making the air both crisp and full. Quintessential northwest coastal weather. My favorite kind of precipitation.

Today I'm enjoying a session with the 1980's Menghai Green Brick from The Mandarin's Tea Room. A nicely aged puerh that's said to be a mixture of cooked and raw, although it tastes mostly like an aged sheng to me (which would make sense since that's what its primarily composed of). Deep tobacco notes in the flavor and aroma with a pleasing hui tian arising here and there. A beautiful mellowing cha qi, too, providing the perfect complement to the quietly falling mist outside.

Flower reflection in the 80's Menghai Green

Feet of the cloud on the 60's GYG

I recently learned about something I'd seen in some of the puerhs I drink. Have you ever noticed a beautiful dancing pattern of fog or steam playing across the surface of the tea in your cup? I first noticed it when drinking the 60's Guang Yun Gong that The Essence of Tea carries. It was such an interesting and beautiful sight that I took a series of photos of it, although at the time I had thought it was just the play of steam on the surface of the tea and nothing more. It turns out there's a name for this phenomenon, "feet of the cloud," and the reason why I've only seen it a few times is that it's something only well-aged teas exhibit. Apparently, as a puerh ages and continues to ferment and mature, the particles of the tea leaf get broken down to finer and finer degrees. Eventually they become so fine that they rise with the steam, settling just above the surface of the tea soup, floating on what I'm guessing are unseen currents of heat and air (if anyone can speak to this more knowledgeably, please do!). Starting at about 20 years of age you can begin to see this dancing pattern of fog on the surface of the tea. I watched for the cloud feet this morning as I drank the 80's Menghai and did see it, although it was fleeting and fickle, only flashing across the surface briefly here and there, looking very much like footprints of clouds running across the surface. By contrast, the cloud feet of the 60's GYG was significantly more pronounced, staying a long time on the surface of the tea soup as it slowly moved about in the most beautiful patterns. Truly fascinating to watch.

Dried longan fruit.. mmmmm....

My friend Michael Fung, whom you "met" in the last post and is the proprietor of Canada's Best Tea House, recently did an interview on Canadian Chinese television. Unfortunately for me, the interview is in Chinese (although the conversation is sprinkled with English words and phrases), but I know some of you might be able to understand it. And anyway, it's still fun to watch (I think so anyway). The link is here. The two-part interview is found at the top, next to the picture of the woman in a red snow jacket standing in front of a bright pink star, episode (or set) 44, from July 17. Toward the latter half of the second part of the interview Michael talks about using tea in food and cooking. I'm definitely going to try the sauteed shrimp with green tea -- yum! The tea-stained eggs are beautiful, too.

Best visit, best hosts, Best Tea House

2011-07-09T18:58:00.000-07:00

The other side of the store is just as full of interest

After many gracious and educational email notes, I finally hopped in my car for a long-awaited day trip north to meet Michael Fung, proprietor of the Richmond B.C. branch of The Best Tea House. It couldn't have been a more enjoyable trip. Even our cold, dreary Northwest weather cooperated and filled the day with sunshine. After a delicious lunch, where I also had the pleasure of meeting Michael's wife, Patricia, we headed to the tea shop. I was eager to see it and was not disappointed. Although the square footage is small, its filled with more tea and teaware than I ever would have imagined. Every square inch of shelving holds a treasure, all neatly arranged and interspersed with small, healthy potted plants (a nice touch, thanks to Patricia's way with plants). Instead of feeling overcrowded or overwhelming, perusing the shelves was more like an exciting treasure hunt, with baskets and stacks of enticing goodies tucked in among the beautiful teaware and tea, not unlike the candy store analogy that MarshalN has used for his own favorite tea shop (although I didn't get to go in the back and dig through huge boxes of mysterious tea packages, lucky guy).

One thing I hadn't expected to see was the great selection of yixing teapots! They ranged from modestly priced to rare antiques. It was a real treat to examine them all. Michael took the time to show me all the really special ones he kept in one of the locked cases. Of his more moderately priced ones, he told me most were manufactured in the 1980's when good yixing clay was still readily available. As many of you know, a serious tea habit often leads to new addictions in the form of collecting good teaware. My yixing collection, while still very small, is slowly but surely starting to grow. I've been wanting to find a good quality yixing that's well-suited for aged puerh, and there couldn't have been a better opportunity. Michael pulled out several from his collection that he felt would suit my needs, all of them made from the very dark purplish variety of zisha clay. I'm thrilled with my new yixing! It's a great little pot and I've been diligently using it every day now. Hopefully I'll get around to dedicating a blog post about my experience with it.

No visit to a good tea shop is complete without sampling some tea, and Michael treated me very well, starting with a session of the renowned 88 Green. I watched carefully as he prepared and brewed it, learning a great deal just from that, but the best tip (well, one of the best) was watching him pry leaves from the cake with the puerh pick. So THAT'S how you do it! I'm embarrassed to say how many times I've drawn blood trying to work the pick in from the side. Nice to know that puerh drinking doesn't have to be such a bloody sport! :)

"Always two rinses," Michael said, although he was always quick to point out (in his typically humble way) that this is just the way he does things and not some kind of "expert rule." With well-aged puerh he rinses once (just in-and-out with the water) and then puts the lid on the yixing to let the leaves sit inside the warm moist cavity for a minute or two before giving it a second quick rinse. This allows the old leaves to swell and rehydrate, he explained, preparing them to give their best. I've tried this a few times since our meeting and I must say it really makes a difference. With younger sheng he doesn't do the "letting it sit in the yixing" part. In fact, he doesn't use a yixing for younger sheng, at all. If the puerh is ten years or younger he brews it with a gaiwan. He also mentioned he likes to match the age of the yixing with the age of the tea, although he gave a big laugh when he said this, again noting it was just the way he liked to do things and not a rule you have to follow for good tea.

The 88 Green was marvelous. Full and rich, flavorful and active. I noticed whenever he reboiled the water (every few steepings) he would add fresh water to the kettle. "Keeps the water active and alive," he said. Yet another tip I've put to good use since our visit that has had noticeable results. I asked him all the big water questions -- what kind of water did he use? What about additives like bamboo charcoal or minerals? etc. But I'm coming to find that the matter of water really just boils down (oy, pun..) to one's own individual location and tastes. He had worked out the best water for his style of brewing and region, and while he had a few suggestions for me it's really up to me to find what's available in my area and what tastes best to me. I guess I knew this already, but there's always the hope for that One True Answer (the perennial slippery slope). But I'm inspired once again to do more water experiments now that my palate is more experienced (also, no small thanks to Mattcha's recent and very informative series on water, starting here).

seat of honor

After the 88 Green he asked what I'd like to try next (and no, I didn't blurt out "Blue Mark!" although I can't promise it didn't cross my mind). Not long ago I picked up a 2006 Ban Zhang cake from him and have been trying to perfect my brewing of it, seeing if I could bring out more sweetness while taming some of that assertive bitterness. He suggested it would be informative for me to sample an older Ban Zhang tea to learn what a bit more age would do, so next he prepared something he called the 2001 Bok Choy (which I don't believe is for sale), named so for the picture of a bok choy in the center of the wrapper. But the power of suggestion got hold of me and soon I was tasting distant hints of bok choy in the tea, which drew a hearty laugh from Michael and a comment on my "good imagination!" I so love the good humor of tea people! :) The Bok Choy was undoubtedly my favorite tea of the visit. Both bitter and plenty sweet, with the most incredible aroma, and considerably more put-together than my 2006 cake, which is still very much like a feisty young boy. As we talked about the characteristics of Ban Zhang teas Michael made a great analogy. He likened the mouth activity of Ban Zhang to the cha cha, whereas the experience of a Yi Wu tea is more like a waltz. With Ban Zhang teas you get different flavors and sensations coming at you quickly, changing abruptly in the mouth, here-there-and-back-again, making for a lively tea experience. With a Yi Wu tea the flavors and activity also change and develop but with more smooth transitioning, leading more of an "ahhhhh, nice" reaction than an "oh! oh! wow!" Both good, just different.

all the goodies I came home with

Being the fragrance lover I am, I asked Michael if he ever used an aroma cup. "Never for puerh," he said, but he does when tasting oolongs. I was surprised to hear this and was puzzling over it when he handed me the freshly emptied fairness pitcher, which puzzled me even more! I had no clue what I was supposed to do with it or why he was even handing it to me. Noting my cluelessness (hard not to miss!) he showed me how to hold the pitcher under my nose to take in the aromas. Like other things I learned from him this day I've been incorporating this into my practice at home, as well. Enjoying aroma in this way has a lot of advantages over the aroma cup. No fussing with little cups (which always used to burn my fingers) and you get to enjoy those heavenly evaporative fragrances throughout the whole session and not just one time at the start. Yes, there's always the yixing lid to offer some of this, but using the fairness pitcher in this way is superior I think, in that the shape of the pitcher naturally funnels the aromas in a particular direction, especially if you hold the cup like Michael showed me (I'm kicking myself now that I didn't get a photo of this, sorry). Essentially, the pitcher is held nearly sideways by the handle, with the handle below and the opening held just under the nose. It takes a bit of practice to locate the upward flow of aroma and hold it under your nose just right, but once its there its full of reward. The 2001 Bok Choy was truly amazing when appreciated this way (and all the other ways, too)!

Michael and Patricia Fung, valued friends :)

What a wonderful visit this was! I think we were all surprised to look at the clock and find several hours had ticked away in what seemed like a much shorter time. It was a particularly notable day for me, being the first time I've shared tea with someone so knowledgeable about puerh. I haven't mentioned Patricia much, but she was present as well, offering her valuable insights from a lifetime of immersion in tea culture, as well as her immensely enjoyable company. I'm so happy to have made tea friends such as these, and I look forward to many more visits. :)

2009 Denong Wild Ripe puerh, revisited

2011-06-21T12:33:00.000-07:00

In keeping with other excellent tea blogs, I'll add my latest tasting notes to the original posting, here (scroll down to the end of the post to find the updated review).

2004 101 Tea Plantation Commemorative Tea Cake

2011-06-12T22:57:00.000-07:00

From a low quality puerh (in the last post) to a much higher quality one. The exact name of this tea is... well, for someone who doesn't read Chinese that's hard to say, but fortunately the box this comes in includes English on the back. "Thousand Year Old Tea Plantation's Commemorative Tea Round" appears to be the official designation, although it's also referred to simply as "101 Ancient Tea" (and "101 Years Old Tree" on the vendor's website, The Best Tea House, Vancouver branch).

The 101 Tea Plantation is a US-invested tea factory based in Jing Mai, which might explain the English on the box and also the extensive (also in English) website here, which I have appreciated. 101 Plantation produces a lot of tea, much of it wholesaled to worldwide markets and all of it certified organic according to European, American and Japanese standards. This particular cake is one of their high quality productions, produced to commemorate a business partnership between the 101 Tea Plantations company and the Lan Cang government, picked specifically from their oldest tea plantations on Jing Mai and Mang Jing mountains. According to the box they "selected only the choicest leaves from our over 1000 year old trees" to make these cakes. Although I haven't been able to verify that the leaves are 100% from 1000 year old trees, it's certain that these cakes are 100% gu shu leaves from trees at least a few hundred years old to perhaps a small portion of the oldest leaves.

I picked this cake up from The Best Tea House, Vancouver branch. Michael Fung is the owner and has tremendous knowledge about tea and puerh in particular. Although the website lists prices for whole cakes only, I know they also sell sample size portions of all but their oldest and priciest teas. Contact the store to inquire.

I've spent the past two weeks sampling this tea in different ways, trying to "listen" to it. Gaiwan and yixing, varying temperatures, varying infusion times, varying proportions of tea leaves to water. When using fewer grams of leaves to water, this tea is filled with a beautiful floral delicacy. One of the most floral puerhs I've ever had. Upping the amount of leaves, though, produces a liquor with surprising strength and a far-reaching ku wei that lasts and lasts. Given that every session with this tea produced different results in terms of taste and aroma (thanks to my fussing around with parameters), it would be silly for me to give one of those infusion-by-infusion reports. But there were certain consistencies I can tell you about.

Mouth feel. The liquor is rich and thick, leaving the mouth feeling coated in velvet. As the infusions increase in number the mouth feels thins out a bit, but my sessions with the 101 always began with a mouth full of "sumptuous" (the word I found myself using over and over in my notes).

Strength. This tea has a great deal of assertiveness, evidenced in taste by a ku wei that will grab you hard if you're not careful. This was part of the reason I spent some time with this one, trying it in different ways. This is a tea that will test your brewing abilities. The strength of the ku wei goes deep into the body and as a result pulls both perspiration and salivation, but also moves into a full-body mellowness as an expression of qi.

"That clean sensation." There's probably a Chinese term for this that I don't know yet because I find this particular characteristic present in most high quality puerh. You might say it's when you keep tasting a tea for hours (sometimes even a day or more) after drinking it, but it's not really a describe-able taste so much as a sensation of cleanliness, most noticeably throughout the mouth. It's extremely pleasant and the more I experience teas that have this characteristic, the more I want to drink them.

Leaf quality. One of the most impressive things I discovered about the 101 was when I examined the spent leaves. They were big and beautiful, with plenty of whole strong-spined leaves and very little chop. In fact, the dry leaves were just as much fun to examine since they separated easily and fully whole from the cake. Every curled twisted dry leaf from the cake would fully expand in the tea water, expressing itself completely. Sometimes I've had teas where the leaves seemed reluctant to open, but not this one.

I was told that the 101 is currently working through a changing period in it's aging process, and as I sampled it on different days I wondered what might be it's weaker points and how another few years of aging will change it. Although there was hui gan present, it wasn't as strong as other teas I've tried. I wonder if that might change with a few years' time? There were a couple other points about this tea that I made note of in my journal and which I'll be watching with interest when I try this again in the coming years. The whole matter of how a puerh ages is a fascinating one, and those who have a lot of experience with puerh will tell you it's not a simple straight-line graph from "green and astringent" to "woody-sweet mellowness." Tea goes through periods or maybe 'stages' as it ages, and it seems the 101 will offer a good window into how a puerh works through one of these periods. I hope to update this blog entry as I try it again in the coming years.

Anatomy of a low quality pu-erh

2011-06-06T13:57:00.000-07:00

It wasn't all a loss this morning. I started my session with a pot of the 2007 Douji "Six Ancient Tea Mountain", which is a very fine tea for it's age. It was my first big purchase of multiple cakes and I'm glad to have picked up as much as I did. I drink it frequently and it never disappoints. In fact, I think it tastes even better in the yixing, and the cha qi of this one is truly excellent. A great tea for meditation.

But my restlessness was tugging at my sleeve again, so after exhausting the Douji I pulled out random cake from the shelves. It was a Taobao purchase of this cake, said to be from 2005, made from "ancient" Wu Yi leaves, and stone pressed. Did I really think it was all that? Well, for the price of 22 yuan, no. But it made for some pretty pictures on the Taobao page so I added a cake of it to my order. A small price to pay for a little education.

True to the Taobao page this beeng is (initially) good looking, covered both front and back with large long ropey leaves. But like they say, never judge a book by it's cover. My first clue that something was amiss came when I tried to pry off some leaves for the pot. This cake was rock hard! Had to get the knife out. The next surprise was what was revealed inside. Just under the top layer of pretty ropey leaves was a dense solid mass of dried tea leaves. It almost looked like the leaves had been pulverized before being compressed. No matter how carefully I worked my knife to get into it, I ended up with mostly finely crumbled bits, almost powdered. Stone pressed? I think not. Not unless they used a 300-lb rock! Although I don't know enough to say for sure, it seemed to me that a smaller cake had been pressed first (with machine?) made from fannings and very small bits, and then this smaller well-compressed disc had been covered with larger prettier leaves and maybe then put into a stone press. That's just my guess.

I was actually eager to taste this one, believe it or not, and tried to keep an open mind despite the inauspicious start. I knew I was in for a lesson. I rinsed and used an aroma cup to start. It smelled blandly green with just a faint hint of sugars. Next, a 6-second infusion -- it tasted like sour water. I bumped up the second infusion to 30 seconds. Again, sour water with a little bit of tea-flavor to it. The third infusion I tried a full minute, but again the tea fell flat on my tongue with little taste, little aroma, and nothing going for it. As I sipped I had the unpleasant experience of finding gritty bits of dirt in my mouth, so I decided to chuck this one and chalk it up to a good lesson.

Thanks to the many good folks who blog and post about their tea experiences (not to mention those tea vendors who offer well-chosen quality teas) I've had the good fortune to taste some very good tea. Some are truly excellent while others are just decent. But it can be argued that without the lows one cannot appreciate the highs. Without darkness one cannot be conscious of light. So it is with tea. And so it is I find myself thankful even for this unimpressive little hockey puck of a pu-erh. :)

Two generations of one special tea

2011-06-03T12:48:00.000-07:00

chubby new yixing pot

I find myself drinking a LOT of tea lately. Part of this is due to impatience. If I sit down with a new sample and it doesn't impress me quickly I pull out one or two more to try. But more often I'll find myself trying a new puerh and thinking, "Oh, this one reminds me of the X tea from Y factory" and so I'll pull that one off the shelf and do a side-by-side tasting. It's actually been very educational and a great way to further develop the palate (not to mention helping me justify all this tea I'm collecting!).

I want to write a bit about a taste-compare I did the other day with the 1996 Truly Simple Elegant and a tea that's marketed as the "2nd generation" of this renowned tea, the 2003 Green Snow Manor (or Hut, as I've also seen it advertised). But first a bit about my new yixing purchase. After simmering it in the TongQing Longma last week it smelled heavenly and I've been drinking more shu than I normally do in an effort to really break it in. But I'm finding some annoyances with this new teapot. It pours in spurts, and despite tipping it this way and that to try to empty it of tea after a steeping it's still left with a puddle of tea at the bottom of the pot. The only explanation for this is the type of filter inside the pot.

New yixing on the left, my old stand-by on the right

It's a ball filter, and if you look closely you'll see that the filter holes are set a short distance away from the inside surface of the pot. This would explain why I keep finding extra tea water in the bottom of my pot between steepings. The matter of the flow of the pour is another issue. My old teapot, with nine holes pierced into the actual body of the pot (on the right above) pours wonderfully. When I tip it on it's side the tea flows out smoothly, taking about 7-8 seconds to pour, eventually slowing to a few drips. To empty the pot fully I just give it a few shakes. Very simple. But this ball-filtered new pot is a bit different. I can't just tip the pot sideways to pour like with my other one. If I do I get lots of tea coming out from under the lid and the pour comes out in uneven spurts. Instead, I have to be more careful with this one, only tipping it partially to start the pour and gradually rotating it to finish. As a result, the total pour time is a bit longer, about 9-10 seconds. I also wonder how much this slower pour has to do with the smaller holes.

So, onto the teas. The 2003 Green Snow Manor (GSM) is said to be the 2nd generation of the Truly Simple Elegant, picked from the very same trees. Although I don't know for sure, I'm guessing this means the trees weren't picked in the seven years between the manufacture of the two cakes, but I could be wrong. One thing's for sure, the GSM's price is significantly inflated thanks to it's provenance.

I knew it wasn't completely fair to be comparing the two outright. Not only is there a 7-year difference in age but the TSE has some unique characteristics that would be hard to repeat, like leaves from trees that hadn't picked for decades So I wasn't expecting them to taste the same, but I was interested to see if I could detect how they were related.

Initial rinses and pours were predictable, with the GSM showing a more solid yellow soup compared to the orange-amber color of the TSE. The aromas from the GSM were also more characteristic of it's youth, with bright fruit notes mixed with green hay. The TSE, by comparison, was clearly aged. Deep woods and leathers with very little fruit, although it also had an aroma I came to call "violet." Not fruity and not quite floral, but deeply perfumed in a purple-ish sort of way (if that makes any sense). As the steepings grew in number I kept trying to find hints of the TSE in the GSM, but couldn't locate any, and I just don't have enough knowledge of how puerh ages to know whether or not the GSM was just a younger version of the TSE that would someday grow more like it, or if it would never hope to match it.

GSM on the left, TSE right

As in previous tastings of the TSE, the tea was terrifically powerful. While the tea is hot it tastes of pure clean water which might leave you wondering what the fuss is all about, but it quickly becomes apparent as the strength of this tea permeates your body, pulling salivation, bringing perspiration, perfuming the breath, not to mention the full-body qi. As the tea soup cools though, it displays perfumed woody notes and a deep bitter quality (the good kind), as though you're tasting it from deep inside your body. While there was no comparison between the TSE and GSM in terms of aroma or taste, I then tried to focus on this matter of 'feeling.' But once again, there was simply no comparison. I even tried to trick my mind at one point, trying to convince myself that the TSE had less strength and the GSM more strength, but there was no denying it.

In the end I learned only that these teas, despite their connection of source of leaves and processing, are two very different puerhs. The TSE is clearly special and unique, but if I was served a variety of 2003 shengs, including the GSM, I would be hard pressed to pick it out of the crowd.

Shu surprise

2011-05-26T18:46:00.000-07:00

"If you look at things with different lights you see different things."

-- from the Archimedes Palimpsest Project website

Archimedes is lurking in that barely-visible horizontal text

Gotta love that quote. Even though it's referring to something very technical and modern (specifically, the digital imaging techniques used to photograph the palimpsest) it echoes an old Hindu story about three beings who drank from the same river -- one was a god, and he drank ambrosia; one was a man and he drank water; the third was a demon and he drank filth. I find such wisdom in this.

And what does Archimedes have to do with tea? Well, it was something of a working day for me (in many respects), which included seasoning a new yixing pot I recently acquired. I've decided to dedicate this one to shupu while keeping the other for sheng. So, with dark shu in my mind and things to get done, I sat down to drink just that. Knowing it would be a long day I bypassed my usual quiet mindful approach to tea and set up the laptop for work, doing my best to ignore the quiet grumblings of ghosts of long-dead tea masters.

While the new teapot was simmering in it's first hot water bath I debated on which of my ripe teas I would add for the tea soak. I'd love to christen it with my favorite (Bana's Tang Xiang, which was discussed here), but that's a pricey and precious tea for this purpose. So as I read about heroic conservators and medieval inks I sampled a few different shus. First up was part of a sample I picked up based on an encouraging review from Mattcha's blog, an 80's ripe puerh from Menghai Tea Factory. It sounded like it held a lot of promise, but unfortunately I wasn't able to get quite the same pleasure from it that Matt did (yet another humbling tea lesson). It wasn't a bad tea, but I found it heavy and dominant with deep earth notes (after the initial musty storage aspects subsided) and was only minimally able to detect some of the same creamy cocoa sweetness Matt had found. It was just plain hard for me to listen past the very strong earth-wood notes of this one (which aren't bad but I like a broader profile), and it wasn't long before I was digging through my tea collection to see what else I could find.

I don't have a lot of ripe puerh, and the majority of what I do have was purchased earlier this year from an ebay vendor who was selling some interesting cakes for next to nothing. Up until now I'd only tried one of the pieces I bought from him, a tuocha listed simply as "2000 Yunnan Wild Old Tree." It turned out to be a rather disturbing tea drinking experience as it left my mouth and throat pulsing with a very strong distasteful chemical/metallic tingling that lasted well over a day. I was sure I'd ingested god-knows-what carcinogens (probably something banned in the US, likely manufactured by Monsanto and sold overseas for a bloated profit). I eventually tossed it in the trash. So I haven't been too motivated to try any more of this seller's teas, but decided to give some a go today.

I promise I wrapped that cake on the left better when I put it back on the shelf

I picked out a couple of Tong Qing cakes, the 2003 Longma Tong Qing (left in the photo) and the 2005 Bainian Tong Qing (right). I started with the 2003 Longma. The cake was densely compressed and hard to break apart and it had this curious little red and gold string stuck within the pressed leaves. Initially I thought it must be something that had accidentally fallen in when the cake was being compressed, but after finding the same red and gold string in the other cake I'm guessing this must be a signature of Tong Qing cakes (I welcome any information/education/enlightenment on the matter!). I loaded up the tea pot, gave it a rinse and went to take in the aroma. Mmmmm! Sweet spices mixed with the distinct fragrance of blackberries. It smelled fantastic! The typical earthy-woody notes were also present but they played a lesser supporting role and didn't dominate like they had with the Menghai 80's shu I'd had before. As I prepared several infusions of this tea the blackberry and spice themes prevailed, joined by soft butter, sugar and unsweetened cocoa notes, all balanced on a gentle foundation of wood and earth (and lacking any mustiness). It reminded me a lot of the Tang Xiang but with a heavy dose of blackberry.

Taste/feel-wise, this one continued to shine. At one point I steeped it a little too aggressively which resulted in something that tasted a lot like black coffee (which is fine by me), but the bitterness stayed mellow and never puckering. The flavors were all deep woods with plenty of sweet around the edges. Another thing this tea exhibited was that sensation of "clean" I've come to appreciate in certain puerhs. It pulled plenty of salivation from my mouth and just seemed to permeate a sense of "good clean water" throughout. I also noticed a nice cooling sensation down into my chest as I drank it. Lastly, I was impressed by the qi this one had. Very strong but in a good way. It left me mellowed and clear and in a good space. I was reluctant to put it aside to sample the third and last of the shus I'd chosen for the day, but I was curious to know if the other Tong Qing would shine, as well.

Although I was pulling for the 2005 Tong Qing Bainian it just wasn't up to the challenge. The Longma was a hard act to follow. This Bainian still did admirably though, opening much like the 80's Menghai I'd started with. Lots of wood and earth dominated, with sweet notes underneath (in this case apricot) and leather, though it thankfully lacked the musty storage elements that the 80's Menghai had. One of it's downsides was an aroma that seemed fleeting, tapering off quickly to not much. Like the Longma it did a good job of pulling salivation to my mouth. It seemed a bit more penetrating as well, although I wasn't sure why. All morning I'd been thinking about that chemical-laced tuo which also had a penetrating quality, although the penetration in that case felt very definitely suspicious. With the Bainian I wondered if there might be some chemical action going on, as well. Not that it was anything like that scary tuo, but now that I've got more experience with puerh... well, I just wonder. Another characteristic the Bainian had in terms of 'feel' was a curious thickness in the throat. It also possessed a noticeable qi, but unlike the Longma this one had more of a jittery-buzz quality to it.

(remnants of a boil-over there.. thank god for soapstone countertops)

When the time came to simmer my new yixing in a tea soak I ended up filling it with the 2003 Longma, throwing in my collected fannings to round out the brew. Soon the kitchen was filled with spicy blackberry jam-like goodness. As the pot simmered the aroma continued to deepen and transform. The sweet berry notes gradually turned savory with a terrific richness and depth, smelling just like sauteed mushrooms. I kept revisiting the stove just to take in the smell. Is it any wonder I've got sauteed mushrooms planned for dinner tonight? Soooo good :)

2005 Gan En Lao Banzhang

2011-05-24T13:05:00.000-07:00

Sunny... kind of. Warm... sort of. But the house is so dark and the tea so warming and the body so longing for spring. Seemed a good day for an outdoor tea session. Today's tea of choice, the 2005 Gan En Lao Banzhang currently being offered at Essence of Tea. This cake has a bit of celebrity to it, being featured in an excellent article about Banzhang teas, linked here, from The Leaf Magazine. I've had teas marketed as Banzhang before and had been forming an opinion of them as characteristically potently bitter, but this tea (along with the article from The Leaf) has been an eye-opener. I've been fortunate to recently pick up another cake featured in the article and look forward to comparing the two to further expand my understanding of Banzhang teas.

Initial aromas, both from the wenxiangbei and the yixing lid revealed rock sugar sweetness mingled with soft citrus kumquat yumminess. Like inhaling candy (those chewy-sweet citrus-orange Botan Ame rice candies come to mind). I brewed the leaves carefully and conservatively, still expecting a punch of bitterness despite the promises from the article, but infusion after infusion I found that any bitterness present was quite mild and seemed to bypass my tongue, instead settling deep in my throat as a sort of assertive dryness (not unpleasant). Rather than a characteristically bitter brew, I found this tea to be wonderfully sweet in a very round and long-lasting way. It was an interesting study in contrasts, with a deep dry bitter and simultaneous full wet sweet, reminding me of sweet tannic grape skins. The long-lasting hui gan referenced in the article was certainly present, as well. In fact, it was so persistent and lasting that it seemed to me to transcend the concept of "returning sweetness" as it was less about 'returning' anything and seemed more a nearly solid physical manifestation of how this tea expressed itself in the body. Overall a very pleasant tea session. Sweetness on the tongue and sweetness in the air and a satisfying calm pervading all :)

All that arises

is essentially no more real

than a reflection,

transparently pure and clear,

beyond all definition

or logical explanation.

Yet the seeds of past action,

karma, continue to cause

further arising.

Even so,

know that all that exists

is ultimately void of self-nature,

utterly non-dual.

-- (words of the Buddha)

1993 Menghai 7542

2011-05-18T12:45:00.000-07:00

I probably shouldn't be titling this post with the tea I happen to be drinking today since I don't intend to write any tasting notes. But it was definitely enjoyable :) My tea sessions have become so full lately and, as a result, harder than ever to describe. With really good teas like this I seem able to experience such a wide range of aroma, taste and feel. I've given up (for now) trying to elucidate every last nuance and have taken to just sitting and enjoying what comes. But I'm looking on this as part of the learning process, and nothing at all to do with having arrived at any sort of mastery (a joke to even think about). As with anything that takes time to learn and appreciate, one goes through a series of rises and plateaus in the learning curve. I think I'm just gliding along a plateau at the moment (and an early one, at that). Its comforting, too, to have a bit of affirmation from tea masters of old -

No need to speak of
Fragrance
Color
Taste.
Drink and
Your mind becomes bright.
-- Seo Geo-jeong (1420-1488)

This wonderful quote begins the Forward of a book that Matt of Mattcha's blog is guiding those who are interested in a sort of online tea book club. Like drinking tea, these old tea texts appear very straight-forward on the surface. And they are. But spend a bit of time sitting with them and it's possible for deeper nuances to be revealed. I'm an eager student :)

Guinomi cup by Japanese ceramic artist, Seigan Yamane

Other tea-news from my table: after hearing about it for longer than I care to admit, I finally made the trek to a nearby artesian well to gather some top quality water -- the Seattle-area's little mecca of can't-be-beat "living water." It comes straight from the ground, pouring continuously from two spouts at a couple of gallons per minute, and its free for the taking. Even better, the local water district routinely performs a full gamut of water quality tests on it, making these available to the public. I'd heard it could get crowded there with lines of people but when I arrived early this morning there were just a few (me being the only non-Asian face in sight). One man was filling bucket after bucket (the 5-gallon kind), loading them onto the back of his pick-up truck. He easily had over 50 gallons! But he was sweet as could be and made way for me to fill up my couple of one-gallon jugs from the second spout.

Not only have I decided to give this artesian well water a go, but I'm pulling out the yixing more and more, intent on learning it's ways and seasoning it to it's fullest potential. So between the new water source and the new (-ish, for me) method of tea preparation, my learning curve is back to square one. Or maybe not the 'absolute' square one, but I've got a lot to learn.
As always :)

1996 "Truly Simple Elegant" raw pu-erh

2011-05-03T14:03:00.000-07:00

"Truly elegant" describes this tea so well, "simple" I'm not so sure of, unless it's referring to the perfectly balanced nature of this new selection from Bana Tea Company's offerings. A pricey cake indeed, but clearly in a class by itself. The leaves are single-mountain Yiwu variety, picked from old trees that hadn't been harvested for 40 years, near the Yiwu villages of Mahei and Luoshuidong. The makers of this cake (the Lin brothers, teashop owners from Taiwan) were after a truly high quality artisan pu-erh done in the style of tea cakes produced by privately owned tea factories of the 1940's. They even managed to locate and hire one of the last surviving tea masters from the Sungping Hao factory (a reputed tea factory from the 40's), Mr. Chiang Guan Xiu. "Truly Simple Elegant" (Zhen Chun Ya Hao), is the result of their efforts.

Love the hand-written characters on the red label -- elegant, indeed.

I sat down with this one, pen and camera in hand, intent on doing a nice blog entry, but I confess to letting the photos and efforts at description subside not long into the session. Just far too beautiful a tea to muddy with fussiness, but I managed to get a few good pictures. Additionally, knowing I was in for an educational experience with this one I decided to dust off my yixing teapot and brew up two sessions of this tea simultaneously, one in the teapot and another in the gaiwan. I was curious to know what the differences would be and this tea struck me as a perfect candidate for the lesson.

I do love my gaiwan and am quite comfortable brewing with it. It gives me the opportunity to really enjoy the changing aromas of a tea, which is one of the things I love most about pu-erh. I've used the teapot several times but find it a bit more intimidating, probably because I'm just not as familiar with it. In a gaiwan I can gauge the progress of a steeping by the changing color of the soup, and the openness of the cup is perfect for taking in every last bit of aroma being offered. But with a teapot it's like I'm brewing blind, unable to watch the change in the water, and getting a sense of the aromas is more challenging with the narrowness of the lid opening. I end up doing a bit of battle with the concentrated surges of heat and moisture escaping from the opening as I try to take in the aromas.

A note about this little teapot -- I picked it up from Jing Tea Shop last year. It's rather unique with it's little specks of yellow Duan Ni clay embedded in the red Xiao Hong Ni clay, but that's what I like about it, along with the very rounded organic shape. Xiao Hong Ni is said to be a tender clay and well-suited to pu-erh and also oolong and red tea. It pours beautifully too, smooth and even and taking it's time, and with no drips. When I first got it I scoured the internet for information on seasoning yixing pots and spent a good couple days with the process. And being the patina-lover I am, I confess to sometimes taking this teapot out and just pouring my favorite darker pu-erhs on it during a tea session, even though (gasp!) I was using a gaiwan to brew the tea. And sometimes, when I've enjoyed a particularly good dark pu-erh, I've filled this teapot with the spent leaves, topped it with water and let it sit for a day. (lol -- I feel like I'm in confession)

Alright then, onto the tea. Right off the bat this tea exhibited a very clean and well-balanced aroma. No strange or off-scents (apparently this tea has been fully dry stored). Just an extremely well put-together fragrance swirling with all the best expressions of a good pu-erh -- sweet fruit, clean leather, smooth malt, carmelized sugar (and please know I'm reporting this in all humility, especially in light of the great discussions going on here and here about the matter of reporting tastes and doing "reviews"). The fragrances from the aroma cup were particularly pleasing, showing a very clear progression from "pure clean water" initially (not sure how else to describe it), to vanilla notes, then caramel, then butterscotch which deepened to terrific levels as the tea evaporated.

As the tea session progressed there were predictable differences of aroma between the gaiwan and the teapot. In the past I've often felt that the teapot emphasized the woodier deeper notes of a pu-erh and sometimes even "swallowed up" the sweeter fruity notes that I love so well (another reason why I haven't reached more for the yixing). But with this particular tea, the yixing took the sweeter notes and gave them a beautiful deep wine-infused character, along with some great depth of wood and clean leather notes. It was really breathtaking honestly. The aromas from the leaves in the gaiwan were beautiful too, but clearly higher in pitch and lacked the terrific depth from the yixing.

As I drank the different infusions of this tea I found the aromatic differences between the gaiwan and the yixing also extended to taste and feel. It was subtle at first but grew more pronounced as the infusions increased in number. The tea tasted and felt somehow deeper from the yixing. Broader.

As for the tea itself, it was quite the experience. Breaking it down into 'parts' seems an injustice, but I'll try to piece together a report. First off, the mouth feel was beautiful and quite true to it's namesake -- elegant. Soft and silky, thick but not too thick, coating the mouth in a very pleasing way. Another thing that stood out for me was how deeply pure and clean this tea tasted and felt. Even the aroma had this unique "clean pure water" aspect to it that I've never experienced before. I've had teas that felt "clean" before, but this one was out of this world. Oftentimes that clean sensation seems tied to how a tea pulls salivation from the mouth, but for as strange as it sounds this tea seemed beyond that, permeating 'clean' and 'pulling salivation' (so to speak) from my whole body. Yeah I know, that sounds odd but it's the truth. As the session progressed this whole-body permeation grew to the point where I actually felt like I was tasting this tea not just with my mouth but with my limbs and torso and even my non-physical faculties.

Which brings me to the matter of qi, because it all grew so naturally, from the wonderfully well-balanced aroma, to the broad depth of taste, to the far-reaching sense of pure and clean. I first noticed it as a sense of great clarity and focus that was simultaneously grounded and solid. Again, this was a first for me. I've had plenty of teas with wonderful qi that have left me mellowed and wallowing in an all-is-well-with-the-world sense. But I've never experienced tea qi that contributed to this kind of clarity and focus. And not a caffeine-induced kind of hyper focus, either. This was very different, more along the lines the 'clearer discernment', if that makes any sense, accompanied by a calm groundedness.

I know, I know... I'm waxing all poetic on this one, but I'm certain it deserves at least some of this. I found the following quote somewhere once when looking for tea poetry. I can think of no better summation of this tea than the following:

Wa...is the complete harmony of all elements; its definition includes

sincerity.
Kei...gives a sense of profound reverence toward all things, and is used by tea men to identify characteristics of humility and respect.

Sei...contains the thought of orderiness in life, cleanliness, and purity.

Jaku...means tranquillity, calm.

These four are essential to tea.

Rand Castile, The Way of Tea

2009 Xi-Zi-Hao "Jin Xuan (Golden Brick)" BanZhang/YiWu brick

2011-04-27T13:17:00.000-07:00

This tea made a brief appearance in Hou De's stock recently before being bought out completely. I was lucky to grab myself a bit of it, and the BanZhang/YiWu mix makes a nice addition to my little Xi-Zi-Hao stash. The sample bag contains some big meaty chunks, all exhibiting a careful and beautiful compression of very long and ropey leaves. None of that "pretty outside, ugly inside" at work here. It's all quite beautifully done no matter where you look. Clearly, the length of many of these leaves is due to some generous stem left on the pick, but whether that's just for show or an intentional inclusion for the flavor, I don't know. I was able to easily pry off a good amount of whole leaves, although the length of several of them were problematic for my little gaiwan and I ended up breaking some in two so it could accommodate them.

I pulled out the aroma cup for this one. The fragrance off the dry leaves was soft and muted so I was curious to know what might be hidden there. What revealed was a wonderfully complex fragrance with lots of carmelized sugars, mixed with floral overtones initially, then not-quite-ripe stone fruit. Still some greenness left in the scent from the young age of this brick but off to a good start, it seems. The fragrance off the wet leaves in the gaiwan echo the greenness in the aroma cup but it's a much-mellowed green, soft and leaning gently toward sweet, with no astringent edges present.

Banzhang leaves are said to have a strong assertiveness to them so I went at this initially with a gentle touch, starting with a 5-second infusion and pouring softly down the edge of the cup. To my surprise, the green aroma that was present with the rinse is now completely gone. In fact, there is surprisingly little aroma off the leaves at all, save for a far-off promise of malt and an even father-away note of new leather. The soup pours a deep amber color and looks to have some body to it. Not much comes forward in terms of taste, no hit of "bitter," although some floral notes rise in the nose. But this first cup really shines when it comes to mouthfeel, which is thick and silky, bringing considerable texture to the mouth. Good penetration, too. My whole mouth is tingling and buzzing.

I keep the second and third infusions gentle as well (7-seconds and 15-seconds), and again the aroma is reserved and sedate and the taste is unremarkable. I find myself wondering if this is a flaw or just growing pains? But the mouthfeel is luscious and the qi is penetrating and strong, with a mellow fullness. It's as if this tea is holding everything back so as to play up it's movement and energy. And then, as I'm preparing the fourth infusion, I notice a sweet but subtle taste of plums rising in the mouth. Quite welcome :)

For the next few infusions I really push this tea to see what it's got. It responds with more assertiveness in the fragrance showing a beautiful and unique perfume. Vanilla notes come out clearly here and there, and strangely I keep wanting to name the aroma as "beach-like," although there is no fishiness to it. It's just a clean beach-like water quality to it. Not a particularly sweet scent but nicely perfumed and pleasant. Interestingly, the taste stays indistinct but with a clearly savory leaning and a sparkling clean quality to it, helped along by the salivation being pulled from my mouth. But still no bitterness despite the much longer infusion times. The unique perfume returns on the breath and the strong qi seems to have mellowed and softened all the hard edges of my perspective. I take my time with this tea, partly for the mellow qi it imparts and partly to savor the plummy sweetness that rises long after the sip.

I couldn't help but think back to the 2003 Ba Mai I had recently (which I just added photos of the cake and wrapper here). Like the Ba Mai, this Xi-Zi-Hao seems unsettled but clearly headed in the right direction, although the Ba Mai is much stronger in terms of fragrance and flavor, making it a lot more fun to drink. But for both of these pu-erhs I'm looking forward to sampling them again as they continue to age. Both seem to hold some promise, but only time will tell.

Lots of big leaves in this one

2011 Da Fo Long Jing (Great Buddha Dragonwell)

2011-04-11T10:48:00.000-07:00

How very long winter can be sometimes when you know spring is not far away...

Much thanks to Gingko at Life in a Teacup, I happily placed my pre-order for one of the first Long Jings of the year, this one from Xinchang county of Zhejiang province. mmmm that first aroma! This Long Jing is full of sweet beans and nuttiness and the heady aroma of fresh baked bread. I think I died and went to heaven for a few seconds there, and all the while this classic song was playing in my head --

2003 Ba Mai

2011-04-08T12:02:00.000-07:00

Today's tea, a sample from Bana Tea Company -- the 2003 Ba Mai (sheng) -- is a good example of how one should never approach a tea with certain expectations. As I wrote yesterday, it's been a few weeks since I've had anything pressed in the last 15 or so years. The 2004 6FTM, with it's big sweet hay aromas, brought me to this Ba Mai (only one year older) with expectations of the same. Silly me.

Although it rarely tells me anything about the taste and fragrance to come I do like to take a sniff of the dry leaves in these sample bags. The Ba Mai smelled of vanilla hay which only strengthened my foolish idea that, "I pretty much know what this one's going to taste like" (at least I have a knack for providing myself with some humorous entertainment during these tea sessions). I gave this one a long rinse as the leaves seemed to be reluctant to open very quickly. I probably could have gone two rinses as my first infusion of 5-seconds didn't yield much in terms of taste. But the story at this point was all in the fragrance, which started initially with big ripe fruit, sweet and full, and just the faintest hint of hay around the edges (which very well could have been my mind playing tricks on me, expecting more green hay from this tea).

A second infusion of 7-seconds (I was being careful with this one as I had sampled it some time ago and found it quite bitter, probably due to overly aggressive brewing). The ripe fruit aroma has pulled way back and an interesting dance between sweet and savory begins that continues through the next several infusions. It kept me guessing for some time -- will this turn into a predominance of sweet notes, or savory? I'm not sure the tea even knew the answer. From one infusion to the next it would bounce back and forth. For this second infusion, anyway, the sweet notes became more caramelized sugars, mixed with a savory beany note. Sounds odd, I know. And yes, it was. But it kept me guessing and alert (never a bad thing). Taste-wise there was a very pleasant bitterness in the mouth and a savory quality to the flavor. Most notably, a wonderfully soft sweetness filled my mouth soon after the sip, lingering for a very long time.

Third infusion, 9-seconds: a decidedly fruit-n-vegetable aroma, back to whiffs of ripe fruit this time mixed with a rich bean fragrance. The taste is clean and savory but the mouth feel is thin and watery. Still, that pleasant bitterness remains, bringing up some nice salivation now in my mouth. Once again a long and lingering sweetness fills my mouth long after the sip.

Fourth infusion, 13-seconds (my apologies for this blow-by-blow, but this tea was so full of interesting developments I'm not sure how else to report it): the sweet notes in the aroma switch to dark caramel and sugars now and I wonder if this might be a glimpse of what the future holds for this tea. A dark, not-too-sweet sweetness. The hui gan penetrates more deeply now and my breath begins returning a perfumed coolness. I'm noticing some good qi with this one, too. Again, it's quite penetrating and brings forth some perspiration through my body along with a gentle mellowness. And then there's that looooonnnnggggg lingering sweetness after the sip. Yummmm...

Fifth infusion, 23-seconds: The aroma is all vegetables now. Mushrooms make an appearance with the beans, along with a sort of "vegetable sweetness." If you've ever sauteed vegetables (especially mushrooms) for a very long time until their natural sugars begin to caramelize, *this* is what the sweetness is like. Rich and savory. The color of the tea liquor, which started out a pale golden, is now dark yellow with an orange hue. The qi continues to deepen, bringing more perspiration to my skin. And then that fantastic lingering sweetness. Love that.

For the remaining infusions the aroma deepened more and more into rich sauteed mushrooms. The qi and the hui gan with this tea were terrific. The only thing I wished it had more of was a more substantial mouth feel and I wondered if this, too, might be something that could potentially develop as a tea ages? Might also be worth experimenting with various tea cups, water and kettles (nods to Mattcha here :).

2004 6FTM Limited YiWu Zheng Shan Wild Arbor

2011-04-07T13:06:00.000-07:00

6FTM is short for Six Famous Tea Mountain, the manufacturer of this particular tea selection. I picked up a sample of this one from Hou De last year and it's been sitting ever since with the ever-growing pile of sample bags accumulating in my house. For the last several weeks I've been acquainting myself with The Essence of Tea's aged pu-erh stock and really loving all of it. How fortunate we tea drinkers are to have vendors like that who so carefully choose such wonderful offerings. I've been soaking in many of EoT's older selections, but today felt like a day for something a little younger. Hence, this 2004 selection :)

Often when a tea has been sitting sealed in a sample bag for some time, it offers a concentrated gift of fragrance when opened, and this 6FTM was particularly yummy with endless notes of soft chocolate. I was reminded of a few traditionally roasted and aged WuYi Shui Xian oolongs I've had, making me wonder if this pu-erh had seen a bit of roasting itself. After a brief rinse and then a first 5-second infusion I was surprised to find the chocolately roasted scent had disappeared, replaced with a particularly strong aroma of sweet hay, with just some brief hints of malt and caramel filling in around the edges and meadow-like florals rising upon cooling. The scent of sweet hay is a familiar one with younger shengs, but this one was notably strong and rich.

The taste was soft and smooth with just a ghost of the bite and astringency it probably once had (which might have been more pronounced had I steeped it a little longer). A soft buttery sensation spread over my tongue and filled my mouth. Soft, smooth, almost oily but in the most pleasant of ways. Truly one of the most beautiful mouth-feels I've ever experienced with a tea. By the end of the first cup a sensation of coolness had moved down into my throat.

Second infusion, 8-seconds. The fragrance out of the gaiwan gives flashes of plum initially before settling down into sweet flower-strewn hay. The soup is pouring a clear gamboge. A gentle bitterness in the taste makes itself known but only to coax a bit of salivation in the mouth, lending an almost juicy quality to the flavor. The hui gan begins to develop, filling my sinus and throat with a cool scented airiness.

The remaining infusion times went something like this -- 10s, 17s, 20s, 30s, and then I stopped counting. The fragrance off the leaves remained close to the sweet flowery hay theme, but by the 4th infusion it developed a perfume all it's own. I love it when a pu-erh does this. No one distinct note comes forth to announce itself, and while it's clear that the fragrance has grown from the usual notes I find myself at a loss for words other than "not floral", "not fruit", "not hay." And yet it includes all of those and has produced something uniquely it's own. I think of EoT's 2001 Jin Chang Hao Yiwu, arguably one of my most favorite teas which also has this characteristic of a unique perfume that's all it's own.

As the tea session lengthened the buttery mouth feel settled into clean, fresh and sweet. This tea offered much in the way of subtle activity and flavor in the mouth and movement through head, throat and chest, all combining to make it a most enjoyable experience. Eventually a floral quality began to rise on the breath, which was wonderful. The heady perfume of the 4th and 5th infusions soon gave way to a scent that is best described as a fresh rain in the countryside and I finished out the session with the feeling that my head and neck were filled with a sweet-scented cool spring breeze. A wonderfully evocative tea (can you tell?). :)

Digging through the spent leaves I found, amongst the "chop", plenty of whole small young leaves, most with thick strong spines. Of the whole leaves (none of which were much longer than an inch or inch-and-a-half), many had a reddish tinge to them and I was reminded of that chocolatey aroma I first smelled, wondering if this might be a clue to the origin of it.

2008 Zhi Zheng "Xian Xiang"

2011-03-14T13:21:00.000-07:00

What a darling little fellow. Just 100 grams in all, like a paper-wrapped cookie. The Zhi Zheng Tea Shop has produced a small series of these mini cakes (4 in all) but only this one remains, the rest having been sold out.

Some beautiful calligraphy by Li Chun Lin

There is much to appreciate about the aspirations of the Zhi Zheng folks. Describing themselves as a "a young Sino-British company based in Jinghong" (I have no idea what "Sino" means) they offer a small and supposedly organic puer tea selection. I particularly like the explanation of the meaning of their company name: "Zhi Zheng is a Chinese term which... conveys notions of a devotion to genuineness, morality and refinement and the pleasure that comes from that. A sense of respect for the beauty inherent in nature and in simplicity." I can appreciate these sentiments so I've been interested to try out some of their teas to see if they live up to the name.

This little cake reminds me of a flat squashed tuo. Although it was hand pressed it wasn't quite as easy to break into individual leaves as a larger hand pressed beeng would be, but I managed. After a good rinse the initial aroma was full of fruit with deepened dark sugar elements to it. No hint of that green hay smell I often find in younger shengs. The soup poured a slightly darkened yellow flax color. Very clear.

When I sit down with a new tea I'm always wanting it to be special. Always hopeful for something to sweep me off my feet. I was watching this tendency in myself during this session and noting it's desire to judge and make declarations of 'good' and 'bad.' But like anything in life, a tea just expresses itself as it is. We can like or dislike it, but it is what it is. Sometimes when drinking my tea I think of that Indian fable about three beings who drank from a single creek. One was a god and he drank ambrosia; one was a man and he drank water; the third was a demon and he drank filth. What you get is a function of your own state of awareness. Does this mean even (supposedly) really "bad" tea can be drunk by certain individuals and perceived as heavenly? Well, as they say, beauty is in the eye of the beholder.

I wish I could say my state of awareness is of the higher kind, but like the tea I simply am who I am. Warts and all :)

There were times when sipping this tea I found a nice depth to it, while other times the fragrance and taste felt flat to my senses. Was it my lack of skill in brewing that was failing to bring out the best in this tea? Or was the tea itself a bit unsettled in it's expression of it's character? Hard for me to say. In the best of moments this tea expressed a nice complexity of fragrance; mature fruit initially, with middle notes of dark sugars and a base arising from the wood/leather/tobacco camp. But it lacked strength and longevity, giving way quickly (fragrance-wise). In its lesser moments it was one-dimensional and not so interesting. The taste was nothing too remarkable -- some good bitterness in the first cup that never reappeared thereafter, and some quiet plum flavors that arose at the back of the mouth long after the sip which was nice, but like the fragrance it lacked strength and longevity. A nice unspecific qi with this one, just leaving me with a pleasant and mild overall buzz. It also possessed some penetrating qualities about it, pulling up a bit of salivation around and under my tongue and leaving a particular "soft sand on the tongue" sensation in my mouth.

. . .

2011-03-14T00:05:00.000-07:00

People come here

and listen to my dharma words

when all I really want to do

is pour them a little tea.

-- Adyashanti

Tea and stupas

2011-03-06T21:03:00.000-08:00

I'm staying for the week in the Sonoma Valley of California. What a beautiful place here. The land itself is stunning enough without the jaw-dropping winery estates. It's my first taste of traveling with tea and the challenges that brings. Thankfully, I drove down so was able to pack along my electric tea kettle and trusty tea tray.

Inside my hotel room is a lovely book full of color photographs and descriptions of dozens of wineries. As I was looking through it I couldn't help but notice the similarities between the photographs of grapevine fields and the pictures I've seen of plantation tea trees. Although I love wines I don't drink them most everyday like I do tea. I've often wondered if certain parts of the Northwest might be ideal for growing tea trees and I found myself re-imagining this pretty coffee table gift book full of photos of tea farms and tasting rooms and tea caves for aging.

I brought along a few samples for my trip, trying to pick out teas that might be facilitative for my purpose here (meditation retreat). So far I've sampled some truly rich and pleasurable Essence of Tea selections, including the 1989 88QingBing and the 1990's Grand Yellow Label. Already I'm checking my bank account to see how easily I can rationalize a purchase. See what tasting these fine older teas does to you? I did jot down my tasting notes for them, but somehow it seems trite to try and copy them here. All I can say is, you owe it to yourself to taste some of these. Fine tea, indeed.

Shunryu Suzuki-roshi stupa (Japanese)

The Sonoma Mountain Zen Center is here in these parts. A surprisingly quiet and serene setting amongst all the winery fervor that abounds here. It's been a pleasure to visit. On the grounds of the place they have two stupas that are well worth the short walk to get to. One is in honor of Japanese Zen priest, Shunryu Suzuki-roshi, and the other in honor of Tibetan Buddhist teacher, Chogyam Trungpa Rinpoche. It was surprising for me to see the differences of style between the two, although each emanates it's own peacefulness. I consider myself very fortunate to have spent time at each of these sites. Being the tea-head I am, I thought about sneaking in a thermos of hot water and enjoying a bit of tea at the sites, but almost as soon as that thought appeared I dismissed it and felt a little guilty for entertaining such an idea. These relic sites are very deeply revered. You just don't skip down the path to have a picnic there. But the spirit of these great teachers is with me as I enjoy my teas in the hotel room :)

Chogyam Trungpa Rinpoche stupa (Tibetan)

Supermarket Pu-erh Smorgasbord (2009 BaDa Mountain Wild Arbor)

2011-03-02T14:39:00.000-08:00

I was shopping at Uwajimaya the other day, Seattle's longtime destination for quality Asian groceries and goods. Although there are bigger Asian supermarkets in the Puget Sound area, none have the history or status of Uwajimaya. It's always fun to shop there. Where else can you browse the vast fish selection next to a Korean nun, all in robes and a warm knitted skull cap to keep out the cold? Or wait in line at the check-out observing the stately reverence given to an ancient-looking woman, all stooped over and barely 4 feet tall, yet still walking with a cane and writing her own checks (veeeerrrrryyyyy slowly!), being attended to not by daughters or paid caretakers, but by a couple of smartly dressed middle aged men? This place has history to it and deep roots in the many Asian communities here.

I wasn't there to buy tea and only wandered over to the tea aisle as an afterthought. Shelves and shelves of colorful tins and packets, mostly greens and oolongs. I thought I'd see if any of the tins or boxes had pu-erh in them (and there were a few) but was surprised to find a row of several full-sized pu-erh cakes and a couple of tuos. I'd never seen these cakes there before. They were all labeled with a company called Tienxi, but the cakes themselves included some familiar factories -- Xiaguan, Yongde, Mengku, Menghai. Most were raw green pu-erhs. One of the tuos was a shu that sounded really yummy by the description of it, but sadly it was all sold out (although there were plenty of green tuos left on the shelf). The cakes were young; just a few years old, and not at all pricey. I bought the most expensive one, which was hardly expensive at all -- the 2009 BaDa Mountain Wild Arbor, for $19.99.

"Best Before: 08/2012"... really?

Tienxi Company apparently contracts with various tea factories, acting as a middle-man broker between the factories and businesses like Uwajimaya who then carry their product line. Interestingly, Tienxi is a local company, based in nearby Sammamish, a suburb town of Seattle. I've never heard of this company before and know nothing more about them.

In addition to the tea I picked up some good looking fruit. Last year I took part in a pu-erh tasting of some special aged selections, and while the tea was wonderful, the "tea snacks" were abysmal, including a bowl of over-salted, highly processed, vaguely-cracker-like crunchies from a local discount grocery. Ever since then I've given a lot of thought to this matter of tea snacks. What foods complement tea? For the most part I prefer to drink my tea without food, but when I have friends over it's nice to set out a few offerings. I have a definite bias for fresh fruits or high quality chocolate (cheap waxy chocolate was another of the offerings at that tasting last year). Little powdered mochi cakes are nice, too. Uwajimaya always carries an interesting selection of all of these and I was lured by some of the exotic fruits. I picked up a couple of deep red, spikey rambutan, some deep purple mangosteen, and an item I don't see there very often -- a dried persimmon, which was heavenly delicious.

mmmm.. dried persimmon..

Onto the tea. Expectedly, it opened with big green fresh hay, although there were deep floral overtones lurking in the aroma of the first few infusions that surprised me. The soup poured a pretty and clear straw yellow. I started with a 10 second infusion and found the taste surprisingly smooth and buttery. No hint of astringency or bitterness. I pushed the second infusion to 15 seconds, the third to 30 seconds and the fourth to 45, but I couldn't push this tea into any more than just a hint of bitter. Fragrance-wise, while there was some floral present (mostly in the first few infusions) it settled into hearty vegetal notes of asparagus, cooked beans and mushrooms (the asparagus gave way by the 4th infusion, leaving savory beans and mushrooms).

Undoubtedly the most note-worthy thing about this tea was how penetrating it was. From the 2nd infusion on it continually sank deep into my mouth and throat, pulling up a surprising degree of salivation and a spreading warmth in my chest. Some hui gan present as well, intially with floral on the breath but soon became more indistinct with a tingling and somewhat cooling sensation. Was there a bitterness there? I want to say there was, but it was so far to the back of the mouth and quickly sank deep into the tissues, transforming into a subtle sweetness, diving to a warmth in the chest, filling outwards and pulling significant salivation into my mouth. A pretty decent puerh, I thought. It left a nice clean sensation with me the rest of the day. I have no idea if this one will age well, but for the price it's certainly a fine daily drinker.

2000 Kunming "Lan Yin" Tie Beeng

2011-02-25T13:35:00.000-08:00

Is it Kumming or (more properly) Kunming? Is it Lan Yin Tie Beeng? Or Zhong-Cha Lan Tie? It's frustrating sometimes, the variations of English names for these Chinese tea cakes, and not being a student of Chinese language myself I'm at the mercy of those who sell and write about them. I have no choice but to set aside my hope for literal correctness on the matter. You know what tea I'm referring to here, but in case there's a question, here it is:

I've been struggling a bit since my last entry. In my desire to broaden my knowledge of puerh I've been venturing all over the map. Expensive stuff, cheap stuff, good and bad, young and old. I've been collecting little sample bags of the oldest (and subsequently priciest) teas available for purchase to Westerners, waiting to try them until I've felt ready. I've tried a few and it's put me into a bit of a conundrum. I'm understanding now just what the fuss is about older puerhs, and damn if it's not screwing with my taste for younger shengs! Clearly two very different beasts, and given the rarity (not to mention cost) of aged teas I really need to settle my excitement down and get back to an appreciation of the younger shengs. Had I taken that job in the '80's with that little up-and-coming company on the Eastside known as Microsoft, well then maybe I could be drinking a lot more truly aged puerh now, but as it is...

I started the morning with a sample bag of a 2003 sheng from another vendor, but it was so green and young. My heart just wasn't in it. I decided to switch gears and pull out this much-reputed cake I purchased last year from Hou De, the 2000 Kumming/Kunming "Lan Yin"/"Lan Tie" what-have-you shengpu. It's been sitting on my shelf since then. Today is my first session with it. It's an interesting cake, undoubtedly machine-pressed with it's sharp perpendicular edge and the lack of a dimple on the bottom side (which added some frustration when I tried to wrap it back up, not having that little bit of space to press the gathered paper into).

A 15-second rinse. The aroma is all storage smell, but more dry smelling than musty. I don't know what the storage history of this cake is and I have too little time to look it up now, but from the smell I'd guess it wasn't particularly wet. At least not recently. Still, its rather off-putting. Behind the storage smell is what can best be described as smokey Southwestern desert sage. I know this is just a variation of the typical camphor, but (in my nose, anyway) it's distinctly sage. I recently had the pleasure of smelling some truly heavenly hand-distilled Southwestern desert and clary sage essence and the fragrance off this tea is bringing back that memory. Maybe if I hadn't been so recently impressed with that fragrance I wouldn't be naming this now as 'sage', but it's clearly in the camphor family. I set the first infusion for 10-seconds but the aroma from the gaiwan is still strongly... well, strange. I decide to chuck that first infusion and call it a second rinse ;)

Another 10-second steep and the fragrance finally sheds that funkiness. It's all dry grassy desert sage now and the taste is surprisingly smooth at first with some grab in the mouth and throat. The aftertaste immediately rises like smoke off a hillside of freshly-burned chapparal. This becomes the dominant theme for this tea throughout most of the session -- big smoke and big sage. It's as if I'm out camping in southern Utah or Arizona, the air thick with desert sage and campfire smoke.

I quickly learned to be conservative with my steepings. Any bit of push and I was drinking liquid smoke. There was some sweet fruitiness present, but only around the far edges and only when the tea had been prepared delicately or the leaves began to cool. The smoke and sage aspects were nearly overpowering. A strong tea, indeed. I recall someone telling me recently to break up a cake and store it for a few months to help rid it of some funky storage elements, and it occurs to me that this would probably be a good approach for this tea, as well. Not for the storage smell but for the smokiness. And in fact after tasting this tea I went and read a few reviews of it and folks seem to recommend that very approach. I'm not surprised.

Another notable aspect of this tea is the penetrating qi it carries. Really quite strong, settling in the head and enveloping the body. Given the strength of this tea (even with the extreme smokiness) and the powerful qi component, I'm inclined to think this was a very wise purchase, although it's going to need a whole lot of time to work out its strong, slightly funky personality and find its way to some settled maturity.

1970's Tong Qing Hao

2011-02-22T12:04:00.000-08:00

In the garden of exquisite flowers at the bank of a river

The Bliss-gone honey-bees are sitting on the flowers,

Totally beautifying the garden and emitting the sound of the Dharma drum,

And the whole garden manifests as if listening to the holy Dharma with respect...

The forest, as if it were the clear sky shining with stars and planets,

Is peaceful and rich with the ornament of garlands of virtues.

It is beautified with the glories of nature.

Such prosperity never exists even in the heaven of Brahma.

Trees carry loads of fruits and leaves.

Gardens provide different pleasures in the four seasons .

Rivers emit various music sweet to hear.

Forests are ornamented by ascetics in contemplation.

From the sounds of trees touched by winds,

Birds, bees, and deer

Hear the pacifying holy Dharma in Brahma voice.

These sights make blossom the thousand-petalled flower of faith.

It seems that all the virtuous karma perfected in the past,

And the blessings of the kindness of the holy ones

Have entered the beings of this land,

And that the samsaric ocean is going to end.

- Longchen Rabjam

If you're looking for a review of the 70's Tong Qing Hao (sample thanks to The Essence of Tea), you won't find it here. I made no notes. Instead I read some Longchenpa, contemplated the matter of age and essence, and steeped myself in thankfulness. :)

2000 No-Name "Yunnan Wild Old Tree" tuo cha (raw)

2011-02-18T13:16:00.000-08:00

I recently made several purchases from a small Hong Kong seller on Ebay. He (she?) doesn't have a virtual store front like the more well-known Ebay vendors, but is listing plenty of puerh, almost all of it between $0.01 and maybe a couple dollars at most. The shipping costs (between $7.99 and $9.99 per cake) are really all you're paying for these teas. For as strange as this sounds I've been wanting to taste some particularly bad puerhs as a way to further my knowledge. Then again, who's to say a cheap puerh is necessarily bad? (or that a $219 cake is good?) Who knows.. I might find a gem among these penny-puerhs? Not much different from taking a gamble with a random tea listed on Taobao.

I got my box of tea cakes yesterday. This seller shipped them relatively fast and did a good job of packing them with enough care to insure they wouldn't get damaged or wet. I don't know the story of why he's selling so much for so cheap. I'm guessing it might be the liquidation of a tea shop gone out of business, but I don't really know. All I know is that he's been pleasant to deal with and returns my inquiries quickly. Most of the tea he's listing is less than 5 years old, but now and then he lists something a bit older. Today I'm trying a mini tuo cha that was listed as a 2000 Yunnan Wild Old Tree raw puerh. Not a bad looking little guy.

I did a 20-second rinse and then took in the fragrances from both a wenxiangbei and the newly wetted leaves in the gaiwan. The wenxiangbei was the most nuanced (as usual), starting off with a solid tea smell, followed by strong plum, then sugar, and finally lingering off with a dusty dry pollen smell. The leaves in the gaiwan, on the other hand, instantly transported me to my grandmother's closet. Old clothes and shoes and maybe a box of prunes in the corner long passed the shelf date. Although the wenxiangbei smelled promising, the aroma of the leaves in the gaiwan was enough to prompt me to do a second rinse.

10-second rinse this time -- ahhh better. The grandma's closet smell was gone now and the fragrance was all soft but indistinct fruit. I thought I smelled some banana, which struck me as unusual. Feeling emboldened I went for a first infusion, starting off gentle with 7 seconds. The aroma continued with the theme of "indistinct fruit" (I know... not very helpful) and again I'm thinking I smell some banana in there. The color of the soup is promising, a clear and soft medium orange. Taste? Not much going on. My first impressions were a tingling sensation in my mouth, followed by a pronounced drying of the mouth. To be honest, I found myself wondering how much I was taking in in the way of pesticides.

I have to admit I was expecting a bad tea. Yes, it was the price I paid for it and where I bought it. Just like my high expectations for the YS $219 cake, I found myself wanting this tea to be bad. I watched my thoughts on this matter and found myself asking, if this humble little tuo were offered on, say, Essence of Tea's website for a much pricier sum, would I be finding more merit with it now? I wondered, but as the session wore on I knew this was no special tea. I quickly bumped up the infusion times in an effort to get more taste out of it. Wood flavors came forward but they were weak compared to other teas I've had. The strange tingling in my mouth continued and if I didn't have first-hand experience of true hui gan I might have wondered if that's what I was sensing. But I *do* know hui gan and this was something else. Something not entirely pleasant or reassuring.

By the third infusion the leaves had lost nearly all fruit-related aromas and what remained might best be described as 'plain old tea.' The taste was 'kind of watered down wood.' I don't know if this could be called a bad puerh. It certainly wasn't overly bitter or sour (I have yet to taste a puerh that has a sourness to it, though I read about it now and then). Aside from the mouth tingling, which decreased with each steeping, there wasn't anything particularly unpleasant about this tea. But neither was there anything that stood out to command my attention as a particularly fine aspect. If I were to rate all the teas I've experienced thus far, with 1 being the worst and 10 being the best, I'd probably give this one a 3. I've definitely had worse (the worst tea I ever had smelled and tasted as though it'd been grown, processed and stored at the bottom of a bus stop ash tray that hadn't been cleaned for far too long). I picked up quite a few of these penny-puerhs, though, so maybe I'll find something yummy. Or not. :)

2000 vs. 2003 Yong Pin Hao "Yi Wu Zheng Shan"

2011-02-16T13:10:00.000-08:00

A little experiment today in what a few years can bring to a tea. JAS-eTea offers some clever sample sets and I picked up the Yong Pin Hao one just for this purpose, to compare and learn. This will be less a tea review than just a comparative reporting of differences in aroma, taste and mouth feel.

So much discussion of young versus aged puerh, and of what constitutes truly "aged" tea. My understanding is that puerh can't really be put in the aged category until it's got a good couple of decades on it. Teas like these today are generally still considered young, although the 2000 might be said to just be entering into adolescence (please do chime in, those of you more in-the-know than I). One of the challenges, and also one of the pleasures, of learning about puerh is that there really is no one central location or how-to book (I take that back -- I've seen a few "Let's Learn About Puerh" books but haven't read any, nor have I heard anyone talking about the value of such books). It seems the best way to learn is simply to taste-taste-taste, as well as spend time reading blogs and other online resources. That latter method can be tricky as even among the in-the-know tea drinkers there are great differences of opinion. It's hard to come up with a single set of definitive parameters.

So what do we know about what age can bring to a tea? Certainly older teas pour a darker soup with a more orange hue. Some younger teas can pour a bit orange as well, but there's some debate over why this is so, with some folks suggesting these teas have been purposefully manipulated and oxidized, either to fool the consumer or to bump up certain flavors in the tea to add to its marketability, while others feel there is less purposeful manipulation going on and that some tea leaves from some regions simply pour more orange, or that the matter of oxidation is more due to storage issues or even brewing methods.

Older puerhs are also said to have a smoother taste, but the pathway from brand-new cake to well-aged tea doesn't appear to be so straight forward with each added year to a tea's age producing a steady march toward 'dark and smooth' like some sort of straight-line graph. This is where it gets interesting. I've read that puerhs can go through different phases during the aging process, sometimes going through a not-so-tasty period before emerging eventually (or not) into a quite tasty tea. Who's to say which young tea will age into elegance and which will simply wither toward the insipid? Again, opinions vary widely among those who drink a lot of puerh. Some are of the opinion that those younger shengs which grab you by the throat with strength and challenge are the ones most likely to age into something truly interesting, while others will tell you they've tasted shengs that started out more agreeably (not so strong and bitter) and which grew into some very sublime tea in later years.

2000 on the left, 2003 on the right

So it was my hope that my comparative tea session today would teach me a little more about what age can bring to a tea. Examining the dry samples seemed to show that the 2003 contained larger leaves, but at the end of my tea session, when I laid out the spent leaves side by side, the leaf-size was pretty much even between the two. I'm learning that the appearance of the dry cake is not a very good indicator of what kind of leaves the cake actually contains. Plus there's the matter of "top dressing" cakes (putting the larger, more showy leaves on the top) and the matter of just what part of the cake a serving is taken from, whether the edge, the center, or somewhere in between.

As I expected, the soup of the 2000 tea is a tad bit darker and more orange than the 2003. This was clearest with the first infusions, but as the steepings increased in number the 2003 seemed to do a little catch-up, getting a bit darker and more orange. Was I witnessing this tea oxidizing right before my eyes? Could be. I've read that this happens.

2nd infusion (2000 on the left)

4th infusion

6th infusion

Certainly the biggest differences between these two (relatively close in age) teas was in the aromas. Though both fruity, the 2003 smelled of juicier riper fruit while the 2000 had a more concentrated dried-fruit quality. Also, the 2000 dipped into the realm of tobacco and cigarette fragrances which the 2003 didn't show at all. Taste-wise I had a harder time detecting big differences, though the 2000 tea certainly felt more penetrating in the mouth and throat, bringing up more salivation than the 2003. Tasting them side by side (which I'm not convinced is the best way to do these comparisons) the 2003 had a lighter taste to it and a not-quite-as-broad taste profile. And yet, on the subject of ku it was the 2000 that seemed to grab a little more deeply. I'd read that it was the younger shengs that generally contain more bitterness, but that wasn't the case here, and I really have no answer for why this was so (I've also been thinking lately that I could gain from a little more education on this matter of bitterness, which I know tea enthusiasts differentiate in a few ways). Could it be that the 2000 was heading into some sort of awkward adolescent phase? Or maybe what I was tasting had less to do with age and more to do with the differences of weather conditions between 2000 and 2003 and the resulting effects on the tea leaves?

As I sat with these two teas I realized how much more informative it would be to compare, say, the 2000 to the 2010 version of this tea, and I might go seeking the 2010 just for this purpose.

1990's Puerh Tea Brick, Menghai Tea Factory (sheng)

2011-02-15T15:35:00.000-08:00

I recently picked up some samples from The Chinese Tea Shop in Vancouver, Canada and have been slowly making my way through them. This tea, an ambiguously labeled brick said to be from the '90's, turned out to be a very pleasant surprise. The description on The Chinese Tea Shop's product page says, "This tea has an interesting history, as it was ordered from Hong Kong to be sold in Taiwan. To avoid export restrictions and possible political repercussions, it was shipped without a wrapper. The paper ticket has eight 'Tai' characters and a 'Cha' character in the middle of the traditional 'Eight Jong Cha' logo." Perhaps someone in the know reading this can offer a little more information about this matter of Tai and Cha characters, or the Eight Jong Cha logo. The Chinese Tea Shop suggests that this is a Menghai Tea Factory production. Whatever it is, it made for a fun and interesting session. :)

I was sent a large, fully intact chunk of brick plus a few smaller chunks. The leaves look dark and the brick is well-compressed. I had to use my pick to pry off some tea and ended up filling the gaiwan with several small chunks since trying to pry off individual intact leaves left me with more crumbs than I wanted (not to mention a bleeding finger). After a rinse and a first short infusion (which showed extremely light in color and flavor due to the leaves still being mostly bound up in chunks) I used my fingers to gently pry apart the now-moistened chunks into individual leaves. That seemed to do the trick and the next infusion was much more full-flavored.

The initial aroma was full of big camphor, moving toward plummy fruit after the first hit, and then a hint of vanilla orange sherbet upon cooling (yes, that sounds a little odd but that's what hit me, for whatever reason). As the infusions increased in number the camphor notes quickly receded to the far back letting the fruit notes predominate. Middle infusions (numbers 3 through 5) showed mostly plummy fruit in the fragrance, and later infusions brought up some delicious butterscotch notes and eventually just soft creamy butter as the fruity notes receded. All throughout I'd get occasional whiffs of a bright greenness that struck me as echoes of this tea's youth. I really enjoyed the slowly changing character of the aromas from one infusion to the next.

Taste-wise, this tea showed a clean woody flavor overall, with occasional camphor top notes and a nice surrounding sweetness. The color was a solid medium orange, and actually a bit lighter than I expected. I spent this session drinking the tea out of two different cups -- Petr Novak's Prairie Hay teabowl (because I love the experience of drinking from this bowl), and a double-walled glass cup to allow a clearer view of the changing color of the soup. Interestingly, the tea tasted a bit sweeter from the glass cup. I'm not sure if this is due to the nature of the interaction of tea with glass versus glazed clay, or that the tea stays hotter longer in the double-walled glass cup. Contrastingly, the tea had more ku in Petr's clay bowl.

While the fragrance and taste of this tea was pleasant enough, it was the hui gan and the movement of qi that made this one a stand out. Ever since I experienced the wonderful returning sweetness from the 2006 Yiwu Cha Wang I've been searching for another tea that offers the same experience. This one fits the bill. Like the Cha Wang, the returning sweetness from this 90's tea brick sheng rises long after sipping, taking you by surprise. With teas like this I end up spending a long time at my session as it beckons you to take your time and sit between infusions, listening inside for hidden subtleties it has to offer.

Speaking of hidden subtleties, it wasn't just the long-after-sipping rising sweetness that this tea gifts you. The hui gan was terrifically long lasting, building more and more with each infusion. Initially it was camphor-centered, with a coolness down the throat and back on the breath. But eventually it acquired a plummy floral layer to it. The cool camphor stayed present but took a back seat, playing a nice background harmony to the fruit and floral. In later infusions the subtly changing tastes in the mouth and throat and on the breath from the long-lasting hui gan made for a lot to enjoy between sips.

But wait, there's more! (oy.. I'm channeling Billy Mays now) Like the hui gan, the movement of qi with this tea was just as active. Again, it developed in intensity as the number of infusions increased. It started as a pleasant warmth in the mid-torso. By the middle infusions it was filling the torso and moving outward to the extremities, and by the latter infusions it was just as interesting to follow the movement and activity of qi between sips as it was to take in the nuances of the hui gan, as it moved from torso to extremities, filling the head with a light buzz before eventually settling in the core of the body. It was good practice for me to pay attention to such subtlety.

1998 Shui Lan Yin, Menghai

2011-02-14T11:38:00.000-08:00

Let's set the mood for this tea, shall we? To start, get this playing low and soft in the background (last night's Grammy winner for Best New Artist, and from nearby Portland). This is the song that kept playing through my head as I sipped on this tea that was just as cool, dark and sultry.

I'm tempted just to leave the description at that. The song seems to describe it so well. But jazz isn't everyone's cup of tea (oy... bad puns are SO not befitting, sorry) so I'll add a few words. First, the cup -- my other purchase from D. Michael Coffee. I had a hard time capturing the splatter of graphite gray on the side, but after fiddling around with the colors in Photoshop this was my best effort to portray the true color, though in reality it's a little more gray and a little less red than this.

I didn't know what tea I was going to have today. Hadn't really given it much thought but as I was setting up for my session the doorbell rang with a package from The Essence of Tea. In it was tucked this sample of a 1998 Menghai "Shui Lan Yin" seemingly saying "pick me!" Talk about things falling into your lap. But in addition to the Spalding song above, another thing making the rounds in my head were a couple of quotes:

"A concept is a thought, and a thought is a word; a word is a sound, and a sound is a pulsation. What comes before the pulsation? Stillness. Therefore a concept is nothing but an objectifying of stillness. In reality all that appears is an expression of stillness." -- Jean Klein

"Constantly deconstructing, investigating keenly, not even the slightest substance can be found; And in the undivided moment of nondual perception we abide in the natural state of perfection." -- Longchenpa

Here we (I) go again, deconstructing and keenly investigating the experience of the tea I'm drinking. I'm aware of the barrier I'm placing to the pure experience by way of categorizing and articulating it all. And yet I feel as though it's a worthy practice toward the development of awareness. At least on some level. Perhaps someday I'll abandon the naming and deconstructing altogether. But not yet. For now, I'm trying (perhaps futilely) to strike a balance between simple open awareness (as close as I can come) and conditional discernment as I learn about tea.

The soup was deep dark brown with an orange hue and the aromas were equally dark -- leather, tobacco, unsweetened cocoa, dark cherry, molasses (not in that order, these are just the predominant descriptors in my notes). All through the session I found a dry, almost tannic mouthfeel, although there was no astringency present. The aftertaste reminded me of dark unsweetened cocoa, pleasantly bitter and drying with distant notes of smoke. This tea had me thinking of that '92 ripe puerh I had recently from Bana, with its dark chocolate notes and its deep melting richness. Although I wasn't moved to add any rice milk to this one (I think I just heard shah8 breathe a sigh of relief there) I did pull out some of my darkest chocolate for a little taste compare, some 85% Michel Cluizel "Grand Noir." Yes, similar in taste although the tea has a bit more fruit to it (comparatively) and of course more of that dark smokey tobacco tea taste, though both equally dry and dark. I was wishing I had some darker chocolate to compare. Something less sweet, in the 95% range. I bet the taste profiles would be even closer.

The qi was nice with this one, too. Then again, I never know how much of that is due to the tea and how much is due to the general mood I bring to the session or the influence of things like having listened to Spalding's song right before sitting down. But the whole experience with this tea was one of laid-back, all-is-well-with-the-world rightness. Very pleasant.

The spent leaves were nearly black and very strong to the touch. I didn't find much in the way of whole leaves but the feel of them had me thinking there must be some old tea tree material present.

2010 Hai Lang Hao "Lao Ban Zhang Gu Shu" Ancient Arbor Raw Puerh

2011-02-11T16:15:00.000-08:00

What could a tea taste like that was pressed less than a year ago and yet is commanding the astronomical price of $219 per cake? I'm really curious to know, so I ordered a sample of this from Yunnan Sourcing. Got my box just yesterday, all squashed and misshapen, obviously opened and re-closed with bright green tape that reads "Examined by US Customs and Border Protection." They even slashed open a couple of the sample packets inside and didn't bother to re-close them, aside from another big piece of green tape crudely wrapped around a couple of packets. Ouch. I have such a dislike for the kind of apathetic, brute and sometimes even downright abusive treatment this country's border police is known to engage in. Although my beat-up little box of slashed-open tea is a pretty minor offense, I've heard too many stories from friends of mine living just north of the border in Canada. It makes me bristle at the sight of my mutilated package.

This Hai Lang Hao sample packet was not one that was slashed open, so none of the contents had spilled out. When I opened it this morning, knowing the price I paid for it, I was a little put off to find that it contained a large amount of loose broken leaves and crumbs. But maybe it got a little rough treatment from the border patrol? Maybe it started it's journey from Yunnan Sourcing more intact? I hope so. For my session this morning I was able to pull out a good serving's worth of intact leaves, but I won't get quite as many sessions out of this sample as I would have hoped. A lot of it ended up in my growing cup of crumbs and fannings.

I'll admit right up front. I couldn't help but have some high expectations for this tea given it's price. Still, I tried to keep an open mind as best I could. The dried leaves were smaller than I expected. Not quite as meaty as I thought they'd be. The description on the YS site says it was harvested from the oldest trees in Lao Ban Zhang village, from 500 to 700 years old. I had thought that leaves from very old trees like that were generally larger and meatier. Maybe I have some more learning to do. But they were plenty full of those little white hairs you see sometimes. Some flashing silver here and there, and generally a dark rich greenish-black.

The first aromas out of the cup and even in the wenxiangbei were all fresh green hay with a bit of floral behind it, which is pretty common for such a recently pressed cake. Perhaps this aroma was a bit more assertive than most, but there it was. I know it'll take a few infusions to reveal what's underneath. The color of the liquor is all yellow with a slight bit of haze to it. Even though I carefully picked out only the largest intact leaves for the gaiwan, I kept getting a lot of crumb-like debris with each infusion that lasted until about the 5th infusion, when the debris finally stopped showing up in the bottom of my cup.

The taste was very interesting, and a new experience for me. The first thing to hit me was a sweetness on the tip of my tongue which was quickly overwhelmed by a bitterness in the back of my mouth. But it wasn't a bitter bitterness (this is going to be hard to describe, I can tell). It wasn't the kind of bitter that makes you pucker or that causes a lot of dryness to the mouth. And yet it was very clearly bitter. I remember reading somewhere on the internet about the different kinds of 'bitter' that can be found in a tea. I suspect this is the kind that you want. The desirable kind of bitter. It was actually very pleasant, but I have no other word to describe it than bitter. In addition to the sweet at the tip of the tongue and the predominant bitter filling the whole of the mouth (starting at the back), there was also a butter quality mid-tongue. A very interesting flavor profile, and one I've never come across before. Usually I get the bitter first and *then* the sweet. But this was all turned around.

As the infusions increased in number the aroma showed a bit more personality. Sometimes I'd get cigarette smoke and sometimes I'd swear that I sensed notes of grape-like fruit. There was also plenty of butter aroma present in the later infusions. The mouth feel was interesting, too. A soft smoothness to it. The taste profile followed the same pattern from the start -- first a sweetness at the tip of the tongue and behind the lower front teeth, then the mouth filling with that pleasant bitter quality with some butter in the middle.

And the qi? Certainly there was some present. I wouldn't say it was huge, but then I've been questioning myself lately about this matter of sensing qi. Maybe I'm less sensitive to certain kinds of qi that others feel quite strongly? Because there have been several teas that some feel a lot of qi with and which I don't feel much at all. Then again, there are plenty of teas that move deeply inside me with either a warmth or a coolness or a distinct floatiness or even a spiritual groundedness. So its a bit of a puzzlement to me that I'm paying attention to.

The spent leaves were interesting. Plenty of whole leaves, as well as lots of chopped up ones. But I was expecting to find meatier leaves and stronger spines, as I've gotten the idea that this is a sure sign of truly old tea trees. These leaves were more tender than I expected, though some of the spines were definitely the stronger type. But perhaps these are younger tip-growth leaves from old trees? Maybe someone with more tea know-how can educate me on this matter :)

Is this tea worth the $219 per cake asking price? Personally I'm not the least bit inclined to spring for it. I can only guess that its fetching such a high price on pure speculation alone. I really don't have the experience or know-how to determine if this tea is a great candidate for potential future awesomeness (which the price seems to indicate) or if its just enjoying it's placement in stratospherically-priced tea thanks to mostly hype. Even if it was the former, and this tea becomes something truly special in 10 or 20 years, I still wouldn't spring for it. There are too many great teas to be had that already have a good 10 years on them which can be bought for well under $219.

2001 Jin Chang Hao Yi Wu

2011-02-08T17:17:00.000-08:00

To truly enjoy a great cup of tea, we should be there with the tea--not off thinking about the past or the future... even what we will say about the tea. - Master Ling Ping Xiang*

(*fantastic quote pilfered from Cloud Mountain Tea's Steepster profile page)

I've been thinking a lot about this whole blogging-about-tea matter. What's said in the quote above is something that's occurred to me often. What am I doing sitting here writing about tea? I'm no tea master. My experience with tea is a little drop in a bucket compared to many, particularly many who write blogs like this. Not only is my experience with tea very minor, my skill at brewing it is just as "beginner." I can in no way speak with authority about tea except to speak to my own experience and learning. Which is why I started this blog, at all. As a way to deepen my experience and learning about tea. As with anything, mastery only comes with a tremendous amount of practice, experience and mindfulness to moments. So my writing about tea here is just that -- a way to facilitate my own awareness and mindfulness to the moment, and to the whole wide experience of drinking tea.

I should also note it's not my intention to "recommend" teas. While there might be a few I'd challenge anyone not to be impressed with, for the most part it's all so very subjective. Even my own taste preference from one session to the next with the exact same tea is known to change. I should probably also confess (if you haven't figured this out already), I'm prone to passionate swings toward the grand and profound. That's just how I am, and I confess I rather prefer it this way, even though my non-dual and Zen teachers constantly warn against such extremes. But I'm far too enamored with Life to sit back striving to quietly observe and appreciate. I actually welcome the sometimes painful lessons borne of getting carried away.

Alright, onto my tea choice for today -- a sample from The Essence of Tea's current selection, the 2001 Jin Chang Hao Yi Wu raw puerh, served up in a lovely and humble Petr Novak tea bowl. I was lucky to acquire a couple of Petr's bowls from a recent online sale through the Life in Teacup blog. This one is titled "Prairie Hay teacup," though I notice Petr didn't sign the bottom of this one making me wonder if its a particularly early piece. A rough red earthenware clay body with a beautiful glaze of cream and rusty oranges. I love the drips around the edge and the mottling of the interior. I'd also love to know more about this glaze. The thought of preparing recipes of minerals and chemicals, applying these to pots, and then the resulting transformations with the right application of intense heat... well, that's yet another matter that sends me off into fits of passionate enthusiasm :)

What to say about this tea? I'm almost afraid to start because it was one of the most nuanced and constantly changing teas I've had to date. To tell you the initial aroma was "very nutty" (which is was) is like describing a sunset as "pink." Sunsets are so much more than pink. There's the constant change and mutation of colors running the full gamut of 'pink,' not to mention the important factor of time, each moment different from the next in ways that are impossible to enumerate. "Pink" doesn't even begin to describe, let alone describe at all... *sigh* But I'll try and do my best...

So yes, the first aroma out of the gate was nutty and sweet, with fruit around the edges, which soon moved predominantly to fruit, and then all too soon lingered off to not much big scent, at all. This was a pattern of this tea, it turned out. After each infusion the aroma would articulate itself (with terrific depth and complexity, changing with each moment) for only a short time before pulling back to a certain quietness. A first infusion of 7 seconds.. already I'm having a hard time naming the fragrance notes in this tea. While it's certainly recognizable as a sheng aroma, it carries a fragrance that's all its own. Dry wood? Yes, definitely lots of wood. I recently spent some time in a wood shop that had all sorts of exotic wood lying around and this tea takes me back there. The taste was woody forest, as well. Also quiet. Serene.

I must say I like the shape of Petr's tea bowl. This is my first time drinking out of cup of this shape, wide and open like this. I like how it presents the tea to my lips and fills my visual field as I sip. I also like how it requires two hands to hold it up, reminiscent of an offering. The mottled inner glaze of creams and oranges perfectly complements the color of the tea, as well. Very nice.

Second infusion, 10 seconds -- the aroma wakes up now with sweet plummy fruits, again articulating itself with a (dare I say?) wise presence before lingering off with hints of floral. I actually like how this tea is not so full of talk. It offers what it has in the moment, speaking with impressive eloquence and then quieting down to a soft whisper. Come to think of it, I like people who speak this way, too. They seem to know something I wish I knew as well. There's a fruitiness in the flavor now and a lovely hui gan is filling my mouth and throat and returning on my breath, filling my head and sinuses with a floral quality that includes plum around the edges.

Third infusion, 10 seconds again -- the aroma is so complex and ever changing. I can't pin it down to any one thing. Moment to moment, each is different, a character all its own. Still, my notes on this tea show my effort -- woods initially, plenty of fruit but not acidic.. more soft and almost flowery, some sugar notes show up here and there. Ghostly shadows of camphor at the edge now and then. A very nuanced tea. The taste is delicious, as well. Clean, woody, fresh. This is truly an introspective tea (my favorite kind). I'm loving the plummy floral return that's filling my head and carrying on my breath. There's a nice qi with this one, as well. Not too overpowering, but mellow and calming. This tea feels like it has some wisdom to it and the qi almost seems to impart that to me physically.

Fourth infusion, another 10 seconds. I'm surprised at how I'm led to keep the infusions short, and could probably even go shorter. Clearly a powerful tea for what it offers. It was about at this point that I gave up searching for descriptors and decided to just sit back and open to what was there. My words and categorizations were only muddying things, it seemed. Suffice it to say this was a very beautiful tea, both in fragrance, taste and qi, with a character all its own. A long lasting and beautiful hui gan, and a long lasting tea that just kept giving and giving. I never did reach the end of what it had to offer. I finally had to get on with my day.

Examining the spent leaves showed plenty of strength and vigor to them. Lots of large whole leaves, all of them strong with good spines. I am blessed for having had this tea today. Mudkip agrees, lying back in my little morning of bliss and giving her full approval next to the sample bag :)

Shu to shu

2011-02-06T14:01:00.000-08:00

What a great morning of tea fun and deliciousness! Maybe a little heretical experimentation too, but I'll get to that soon enough. First, let me introduce my new tea cup, a yunomi by Colorado artist D. Michael Coffee. Although he makes beautiful functional ware with a wide vocabulary of glaze work (you can purchase some of his work at his etsy shop here), he also does impressive sculptural pieces and 2-D prints, as well. His work is well worth seeking out. I purchased this cup and one other from him. I'm definitely going to keep an eye on his work. Good quality with a great eye toward the kind of organic wabi sabi beauty that never ceases pleasing the eye.

I love how the green glaze of the cup echoes the deep wet greens of the NW

Inspired by MattCha's recent post about a delicious shu he sampled, and feeling more in the mood for something smooth and maybe a little sweet, I nosed through my sample packets for some shupu. I decided to try out something from Hou De's selection, an 80's CNNP Shin Ya loose cooked puerh, from the Guang Dong Factory. As I poured a little from the package it reminded me a lot of the gong ting I have from New Century Tea Gallery. Worried that it might also carry the super strong earthy taste of the gong ting I put a little less into the gaiwan than I might have normally.

The initial aroma was reminiscent of that wet storage smell from the thick papered MengKu from my last tea session, although it wasn't quite so strong and was mixed in with plenty of dark sweet earth. I did a quick 5-second steep, poured the watery espresso-colored liquid and gave it a taste. I was surprised to find a light sweet sensation bouncing around in my mouth. But it was very subtle, more "sensation of sweet" than sweet itself. The color of the liquor was a bit on the light side for what I'd expect from a shu as well, so I decided to add some more leaves to the gaiwan and do a bit longer infusion.

About 12 seconds this time for steeping. The smell and taste is all dark smooth earth and I'm surprised at a bit of dryness at the back of my tongue. Not what I would expect from a shu. The sweet sensation isn't present this time and I wonder if a lighter hand with the infusion time will bring it back, so I brew another 5-second infusion. Yes, that subtle sweet sensation is back, but it's light and you really need to pay attention to feel it. The aroma reveals a sweet maltiness at the very edges, but again it's extremely subtle. For the most part, this tea is all dark smooth earth. Not particularly complex. Reminds me a lot of the gong ting except maybe not quite as dark and intense. I brew a few more infusions of varying length, but I'm not finding myself all that excited or interested in this tea.

Feeling a little bored and unfulfilled I decide to pull out another shupu sample to do a taste comparison. Linda Louie of Bana Tea Company sent me a few shu samples some time ago and I sort through them to choose. One is a loose cooked shu with just some handwriting describing it as a 1992 Ripe Puerh. It looks similar to the 80's CNNP and probably only a few years younger -- a great candidate for a taste-and-compare.

The dry leaves are just a tad bit larger than the CNNP but otherwise look the same. Load up the gaiwan, do a rinse and it's time for that first whiff. Wow!! Big difference! "Chocolate butter cake" is the first thing to come to mind, but this is no sugary-sweet brew. It's much more unsweetened cocoa and butter than sticky sweet cake. Not "sweet" so much as deep yummy richness. Plenty of coffee and dark wood, as well. Some distant fruit around the edges. Wonderfully complex, I can hardly pull myself away from taking in the many fragrances. A first infusion of 5 seconds -- the liquor pours dark like the CNNP, but is much warmer in tone. More deep oranges and reds while the CNNP was more in the plain-brown category. Like the aroma, the taste is pleasant and strong with lots of unsweetened cocoa and coffee, lingering off slowly after each sip. This is the kind of tea that Seattle-ites could go nuts for. Dark and rich, like some kind of rare, unique and hard-to-find sustainably-sourced coffee. With the right packaging and savvy marketing this stuff could become a local legend, I have no doubt.

Another 5-second brew and I'm detecting vanilla notes now as well as high fruity tobacco. It's got me thinking of mole' sauce, not in the aroma or taste but in how so many flavor notes are present that are normally associated with sweet, yet this is decidedly savory. Deep roasted coffee, dark cocoa powder, dark spices and tobacco. So rich and complex. I'm hugely tempted to try adding a bit of cream to it just to spread and round out the flavors slightly.

(warning: Chinese tea blasphemy, but oh so good)

7-seconds this time, the aroma starts off with more sweet creamy earth this time, then heads into coffee and cocoa. As the leaves cool a fruitiness arises, like tart coffee berries. I pour it into two cups this time. I've got to try out the cream idea! Tried some 2% milk first. Interesting but not enough to make me a convert. Some slight banana notes show up in the taste, interestingly. With the next infusion I try some plain rice milk instead of cow's milk, thinking the slight sweetness of the rice would be a good thing. *YES* This is definitely the way to go (rice milk over cow's milk). I wouldn't describe it as sweet-tasting, but the natural sweetness of the rice milk complements the tea nicely. Yum! There's a bit of tropical fruitiness that's wonderful, too. But this tea is just as good sans milk. I spend the next few infusions drinking it both ways. They're both so good.

Overall, this 1992 Ripe Puerh from Bana is a pure delight. The kind of tea that makes me lose all sense of time as I get lost in the tastes and aromas and complexity of it. I don't see it listed on Bana's website, though. I don't know if this was just something extra they sent me because I tend to buy a lot from them, or if it's yet to appear as one of their ripe puerh selections. I'd love to have more than just a sample of this one.

2001 MengKu "Yuan Yieh Xian" ("Original Aroma From Wild") of MengSa Mountain, thin vs. thick paper versions

2011-02-04T13:43:00.000-08:00

I was up very early this morning and have been waiting to do the big comparison of this notorious puerh. It's a dark gray typical Seattle winter day today. Not much sun out, so my apologies up front for the wonky color in some of these photos (like this one).

This is the 2001 MengKu "Yuan Yieh Xian" (or "Yuanyexiang") cake, which appears to have been reviewed by everyone and their cousin. I managed to find myself a little bit of each version (thick and thin papered) and have been curious to taste these for myself, particularly for what it could teach me about the differences that wet versus dry storage can bring to a tea. MarshalN recently posted a very insightful discussion about possible confusions of the term "wet storage" which can be found here and makes for good reading. For my own purposes in this tasting I'll simply refer to the wet (or traditionally) stored cake as "thick" (referring to it's distinctive thick paper wrap) and the dry stored cake as "thin" (being the thin-papered version of the two). I purchased a sample of the thick-papered version from Hou De, and the thin-papered version from Bana Tea Company. Bana labels this cake as "2001 Original Aroma From Wild", which is also the title found in Cloud's big review of this cake, here. In addition to samples, Bana also has a few of these cakes for sale and they're not cheap. I found a Taobao vendor selling the thin-papered version for a bit less, but once you factor in shipping costs it's not that much less than Bana's listing price.

Thick paper version on left, thin on right

Appearance: I was fortunate to get a nice big chunk of this cake (thick) from Hou De that also included the neifei, so I was able to compare them between the thick and thin papered versions. The central Chinese character on the neifei of the thick papered version is a very faded silver gray color. So faded, in fact, that it was only faintly visible. The neifei on the thin paper version doesn't show the same degree of fading. This difference of fading also seems to be present on this side-by-side comparison photo below, from Cloud's review of these cakes. I suppose it can be assumed that the more humid storage environment has degraded the silver ink to some extent. Also, the thick paper version is predictably a shade darker than the thin dry-stored version, and also a bit more "stuck together," as seen --

Comparison from my own samples (thick version on left)

(Photo from Cloud's Tea Collection review page)

After about a 15-second rinse I went to take in the aromas. A clear difference between the two. The thick papered version smells musty and a bit sour, an aroma that's nowhere present in the thin version. The thin, on the other hand, smells predominantly of camphor with clean leather and wood, and a brief and faint hint of fruity undertones. The first infusion of about 6-seconds shows a difference in color, with the thick version pouring darker by a few shades.

Thin version on left, thick version on right

Taste: The thick is smooth and woody with strong overtones of wet storage smell. The taste of the thin version is a little more dimensional, plenty of clean wood with some higher taste notes that the thick version lacked. The thin also carries a bit more ku with it.

Second infusion, 8 seconds: aroma of the thin is strong camphor and sweet woods. The thick still smells strongly of wet storage reminding me distinctly of old socks, although there's a bit of that minty pine-like camphor underneath. Taste-wise, the thick is again predominant with old socks although there's more dark wood and maybe a hint of tobacco underneath. The thin again excels with much rounder flavor, reaching both low and high notes. There's more mouth activity with the thin, as well. More ku and resulting salivation. It shows a good hui gan down into my throat with a simultaneous warm/cool sensation.

Thin on left, thick on right

Third infusion, 10 seconds: The aroma of the thick paper version is finally losing the wet storage smell. It's all dark sweet woods now, revealing more of that pine-y/camphor aroma present in the thin version. In fact, between the two (and thanks to my having spent the first half of my life on the dry east side of the Cascade mountain range and the last couple decades here on the wet west side), I find the smell of the thick version reminiscent of the hemlock and cedar-heavy wet forests of the west side of the mountains, while the thin version reminds me very much of the dry long-needled ponderosa pine forests of the drier eastern slopes. The thin version also carries strong scents of mushroom and pine pollen. In taste, the thick is smooth wood with a tiny bit of rough dryness on the tongue and top of the mouth. The thin displays clean airy woods and mushroom, again showing more activity in the mouth, with more ku and stronger hui gan that returns camphor on the breath with a hint of sweet around the edges. I'm noticing some movement of qi as well, more so with the thin than with the thick.

Thick on left, thin on right

Fourth infusion, 15 seconds: Every time I go to take in the aroma of the thin version I feel as though I'm cooking. It's heavy with rosemary and mushrooms. The thick version is best described at this point as "wet leather shoes and NW forest" with some camphor tucked in. These two versions are settling into their general characters now. The thick is all lower deep notes of dark wet forest, while the thin is more rounded, hitting both low and high notes with airy pollen-laden pine and savory mushroom. I'm paying more attention to the movement of qi now and finding a similar story here. The thick goes low and deep, very concentrated. After sitting with cup after cup I'm aware of a quiet pool of warmth in the lower center of my torso with the thick. In contrast, the thin version also shows strong qi but it's far more penetrating, not only inhabiting my torso but also extending up into my head and ears and out through the arms. Throughout the rest of this tea session I kept testing this again and again and the difference was clear. The qi of the thin version was much more active and penetrating, while the thick version was more low, concentrated and still.

I sat for several more infusions of each of these. Both were enjoyable in their own right but if I were pressed to choose a favorite it would definitely be the thin papered version. Overall I found that it had a broader taste profile and a more active qi. Living in the Northwest I feel quite water-logged as it is, and while I love all things dark and forested the thick papered version was such a concentration of it. Maybe if I lived somewhere drier I'd be more inclined to choose the thick-papered version as a favorite for how it reminds me of home.

Teaware kitsch

2011-02-01T12:44:00.000-08:00

A beautiful blue-sky day in Seattle. Spring comes early in the Northwest. The early flowering trees are already budding out and the daffodils have broken ground getting ready for their appearance. I love the turning of the seasons best -- winter to spring, summer to fall.

Took a break from puerh this morning. The day was just too bright and my mood was yearning something that would open me to that. Puerh just seemed a little too inward. I still have some green teas sitting around from last year's pick though I worried they might have suffered some from the lack of freshness. But it's all I had so I decided to find out. Today's green tea, some An Ji Bai Cha from Jing Tea Shop, served in my fun new acquisitions -- a set of tea cups from a couple of long gone Chinese restaurants in central Oregon. Totally kitsch and typical of restaurant cups, made from the kind of sturdy thick ceramic that says "I dare you to break me... go ahead, try." Great for heat retention, as well as burning the crap out of your fingers when you try to drink out of them.

I decided to do another water experiment today, curious to know how tap-vs-bottled water would affect the taste of green tea, inspired by MarshalN's thoughts on the matter in his own water experimentations. Predictably, the bottled water (Crystal Geyser again) pulled out more color from the leaves. I'm assuming this water has a higher mineral content but I can't say for sure and I'm not going to go to the trouble to send away for their detailed water analysis report. I'm less interested in the science of it all than in how it enhances my tea. In the picture below the tea made with tap water is on the left, bottled spring water on the right --

MarshalN guessed that green tea would taste better with water of a lower mineral content and I would have to agree. I found that the more viscous mouth feel of the bottled water tended to cover up the delicacy and sweetness of the tea. As for taste and aroma the only difference I could detect was in terms of strength and concentration. The bottled spring water just seemed like a more concentrated version of the tap water tea. To test this I tried doing a comparative steeping where I infused the tap water leaves for twice as long as the bottled water and it seemed to confirm this, although the thicker mouth feel of the bottled water tea was distracting and made it hard to really compare taste subtleties.

One other thing I've been noticing with these experiments is that the bottled (presumably more "mineraled") water seems to make the tea leaves open up faster in the gaiwan. This would make sense, I guess, in how it makes for a deeper color in the soup.

Essence of Tea 2010 Nan Nuo

2011-01-30T20:30:00.000-08:00

You're probably thinking I've been soaking myself in that 2007 Douji I wrote about in the last post. Sadly, that's not the case. Instead of sipping tasty teas I've been laid out with steaming mugs of Theraflu. *bleh* But I roused myself this morning for another lovely tea session. Today's tea of choice is a sample sent to me by The Essence of Tea -- a bit of their 2010 Nan Nuo.

mmm.. I guess this is what they mean by "tea porn." What's not to like about those furry, meaty, ropey leaves? Really a couple of lovely chunks in my sample packet. Upon opening the envelope I was greeted with plenty of green aroma but expected as much given the recent pressing. The cake was nicely compressed, coming apart easily with just a little encouragement from my fingers. The leaves still had some pliability to them which I'm assuming is due to the newness of the cake.

I continued with my water experiments for this session, brewing up two separate gaiwans. On the right below is plain tap water and on the left is a brand of bottled water called Crystal Geyser, said to be "alpine spring water, bottled at the source." Unlike the Fiji water there's no information about mineral content other than a vague reference that it contains trace minerals, but similar to the last experiment the bottled water pulled more color (plus taste and mouth feel) from the leaves --

The initial taste showed bitter at first but soft on the tongue. A pleasing lightly slippery quality to it. The bitter note was more rounded with the Crystal Geyser water, with some butter in the nose and taste. The mouth feel is again slippery and full. The tap water tea is much thinner by comparison, with a more one-dimensional taste. As I poured the second infusion with the Crystal Geyser water (10 seconds for the first, 12 seconds for the second) the air filled with a floral aroma. The fragrance from the wet leaves confirmed it. The soup and leaves with the tap water on the other hand showed only hay and grasses.

Clearly the tap water does little to enhance my teas so I won't go on and on about how it doesn't measure up. We'll just stick with the tasting notes from the bottled water. This 2010 EoT Nan Nuo kept me interested with some bite and roughness on the top of my tongue and mouth, but kept things nicely balanced. Never overwhelming. The floral quality in the aroma returns again on my breath, in the nose and throat. The tea has a penetrating quality to it, warming my upper chest. I even felt quite perspire-y as the session lengthened but I can't really say if it was the tea or my flu-addled condition.

By the fifth infusion the aromas in both gaiwans were starting to settle. The tap water experiment finally started to reveal some floral notes while the bottled water one seemed to maybe give off hints of what the future might hold with a bit more age. I had fun pulling out a sampling of the spent leaves. A few tips, a few stems, with plenty of leaves of varying size and maturity, including some thicker meatier ones with strong spines --

2007 Douji "The Six Ancient Tea Mountain"

2011-01-26T13:41:00.000-08:00

"Whatever occurs externally as the manifold appearance of the five types of external objects (forms, sounds, smells, tastes and tangibles) or internally as some mental activity, at the very moment of its inception as a field it is seen just as it is, and by the force of its advent it is fully potentiated and then vanishes by itself--how could it possibly remain?--released without a trace, and in that moment the three crucial functions--carefree detachment in whatever arises, access to wide-open spaciousness, and easy relaxation into the appearance upon its inception--are assimilated."

-- Longchenpa (1308 - 1363)

Yes. It's that good. But don't take my word for it. I am in no way an expert on tea. I'd only heard rumors that Douji was one to pay attention to. The ebay vendor China Cha Dao has a nice selection and I was lured by the "gold award" this particular tea was granted at a big competition. Seemed like a logical place to start my Douji inquiry and I am blessed this morning to have experienced what this tea has to offer.

I used the remaining Fiji bottled water I have for this morning's session. I still have much to learn about water and tea but thankfully not so much attachment that I can't enjoy what I have. There is plenty of time ahead of me (with many thanks to those who have pointed the ways I can further my understanding).

This 2007 Douji greeted me first with a warm fragrant welcome of leather. I felt suddenly nostalgic for a time long ago. Immediately following the leather fragrance were soft buttery notes with fruit just around the edges. The liquor pours a distinct peachy yellow hue, though my picture above doesn't capture the almost-pinks that were evident. As I pour the first infusion I find another surprise in the fragrance rising in the steam, aromas reminiscent of a Chinese herb shop, particularly five-spice powder (noting the echo of "five" in the Longchenpa quote above). I haven't even had my first sip and I'm thoroughly delighted thus far.

Let's see... wonderful fragrances, well-balanced, with fruit notes well tamed and kept in harmony with soft wood. Plenty of nuance and complexity. More than I care to twist and contort my words around. The taste is just as delightful. Suggestions of butter cream in the mouth and surprisingly none of the more common youthful aspects of astringency or boisterous ku. This tea presents itself as though it has many more years of wisdom than it's true age denotes. All that I've said thus far suggests a very fine sheng indeed, but what launches this tea into the category of exceptional is the cha qi I experienced with it.

Now, it could be that I was simply in a particularly contemplative mood this morning. I'd been mulling over the Longchenpa quote even before deciding which tea to drink. But my sense is it wasn't all due to the state of mind I brought to the table. I experienced this qi initially with the sensation of deep cleansing as it penetrated my mouth and throat, producing a clean salivation and hui gan. By the third infusion it was clear this tea possessed a very strong qi. Thankfully, this wasn't one of those knock-you-over-the-head, "Hey look, I'm tea drunk" experiences. Rather, this was a quiet and deep penetration into an inner stillness. A perfect meditation tea. In fact I pretty much had no choice in the matter. The invitation to sit quietly, take my time and let go into the stillness was happily unavoidable. There was no rushing this tea. I am swimming in deep gratitude for this wonderful tea. I even found myself tasting and eating the leaves and enjoying them very much. I often eat the spent leaves of green tea, but puerh leaves are more of a challenge, often too bitter so as to overwhelm the drinking of the tea. But these leaves, while containing pronounced ku, provided a perfect counterpoint to the smoothness of the tea soup. An added treat.

An experiment with water

2011-01-24T15:37:00.000-08:00

I've been putting off doing this. I knew what the results would probably be and the thought of going through the hassle and expense of using special bottled water for my tea sessions pained me. But I'm dabbling in some mighty nice tea now and it can't be ignored any longer. Time to figure out just what effect different types of water has on the taste and experience of pu-erh.

What finally prompted me on this path are some samples I ordered from Stephane of TeaMasters who is widely regarded as having a particularly fine selection of teas. I've been disappointed to find myself unable to appreciate much about them and have been wondering how much is due to my immature palate and how much might be due to the water I've been using (tap water). I'm also curious about the kettle I'm using to boil the water in, but that will have to wait for another experiment. Stephane has a lot of great information on his blog about the effect of water and kettle and other parameters. I'm learning a lot from him.

For today's experiment I boiled tap water in one kettle and a brand of bottled watered called Fiji water in another kettle, brewing up two separate tea sessions side by side. In the pictures above and below the cups on the left are using the Fiji water and the cups on the right are with tap water. Clearly the Fiji water brings out more color in the soup, with a deeper orange hue. Taste and mouth feel was also much improved with the Fiji water. It had a much creamier quality to it. Thicker. The Fiji water tea also proved far more active in the mouth. More penetrating. More hui gan. The tap water tea, in comparison, was far more watery and flat.

Another interesting observation was found in the aroma of the leaves in the gaiwan. The tap water brought out lots of high overripe fruit notes in the leaves, while the leaves from the Fiji water tea had a much more balanced and refined aroma. Also, there was more of a classic pu-erh aroma with the Fiji water with plenty of woody notes and complexity. The aromas from the tap water tea tended toward occasional off-smells and just seemed more unsettled overall.

I've got a few different brands of bottled water I want to try out. I've also read of some people finding improvement by using home-filtered tap water with the addition of a few drops of trace minerals. I also want to play a little with bamboo charcoal, as well.

2008 Purple Tip, revisited

2011-01-21T11:03:00.001-08:00

An updated review of one of my favorite young shengs, the 2008 Purple Tip, produced by Best Tea House of Hong Kong and sold in the U.S. through Bana Tea Company. True, "Best Tea House" is a decidedly generic name among the usual players of tea producers but the man behind the company is one of the most respected and long-established puerh experts in China, Mr. Chan Kwok Yee. He opened Best Tea House all the way back in 1988 and has been selling and producing fine puerhs, and training others in the art of tea, ever since. He carries some very rare and expensive teas in his shops, of which this is not one (currently $33 for a 200 gram cake at Bana, not cheap but not hugely expensive for a good young sheng), but that doesn't mean its not a thoroughly enjoyable tea (which it is).

A peek at the beeng, or cake (with a good part already chipped away as I drink this one often) --

I've started using the wenxiangbei (aroma cup) again and am realizing now just what I've been missing. The aromas of puerh are one one of the things I enjoy most about this tea and I'm amazed at the stark differences in fragrance between the wenxiangbei and the freshly rinsed leaves in the gaiwan. The wenxiangbei reveals the most refined and beautiful fragrances. By comparison, smelling the wet leaves in the gaiwan shocks the nose with garish harshness. But while the wenxiangbei is clearly the way to go to for the start of a tea session, the fragrances offered up by the leaves in the gaiwan also have a story to tell through the progression of infusions. That's my current stance for now, anyway. Onto the tea session..

While the wenxiangbei revealed soft fruits and beautiful florals, the leaves in the gaiwan nearly accosted my nose with overly sharp fruit and funky smells, making me wince. Lesson learned. I happen to know this tea possesses a particularly pleasing fragrance, so all this tells me is not to put much stock in the aroma of freshly rinsed leaves. I think its time to start collecting pretty little aroma cups :)

A first infusion of 12-seconds. The color of the liquor is just as pleasing as the fragrance -- a clear yellow-apricot orange. So pretty. And the taste of the first sip brings a smile to my face. This is one tasty tea. Smooth sweet wood with a gentle ku. Very pleasant and easy to drink. A second 15-second infusion reveals sweet leather aromas in the leaves. The tea returns a bit of sweetness to my tongue between sips, making me want to sit back and take my time with it. My breath returns some of that floral quality into my mouth and nose as well, and there's a mild warmth in my chest. Just easy-easy-easy. Such an easy tea to drink and enjoy. Nothing challenging at all.

As the infusions increase in number the aroma of the leaves settles into what could only be described as sitting in a small private library. The walls are paneled with old-but-not-too-old wood, the shelves are lined with leather-bound books and there's a vase of flowers by the window lending their fragrance under it all. This tea may not have as much ku or hui gan as some others, but it's got a great tea flavor with a lingering echo of sweetness well after the last sip. I keep saying this, but it's true. This is a very easy tea to drink and enjoy.

I've started to find great interest in examining the spent leaves. This cup reveals a variety. In amongst the more chopped-up leaves (would that be the plantation filler leaves I read are common in less expensive puerhs these days?) there are several mid-sized whole leaves and also some mid-sized tips. Some of the leaves have a more purplish-brown hue to them which I'm learning are indicative of the "purple leaves" referred to in these purple tip and purple leaf teas.

And lastly, a peek at the "cupboard of indulgences", with it's growing stash of beengs, some fine whiskeys and a few other libations (more my spouse's collection than mine), and in the upper right a small stack of fine extra-dark chocolate bars alongside a box of truly special Corallo chocolate (a chocolate that rivals the best puerhs in terms of complexity and nuance.. I may even write up a review for it one of these days).

2006 Xi-Zhi-Hao "Meng Hai Nu Er Zhuan" Brick

2011-01-18T20:36:00.000-08:00

Purchased from Hou De, this XZH brick from 2006 is made from MengHai spring tips and Ban Zhan sun-dried mao cha. According to the Hou De site "this finely crafted brick was made to resurrect the Nu Er (daughter) Zhuan tradition." Well I don't know what the Nu Er Zhuan tradition is, but if the drawings on the wrapper are any indication, it involves plenty of hanky panky!

Who knew a tea party could be this much fun?

X-rated tea wrappers aside, this was a very enjoyable tea session (although I can't say it produced the "libidinal qi" the wrapper seemed to suggest). The compressed leaves were big and meaty, shimmering with plenty of downy silver fuzz (not sure my camera catches it so well here), and they offered a promising aroma of rock sugar.

Inspired by the ever-informative Hobbes of the Half-Dipper site, I decided to dust off the aroma cup (wenxiangbei) I purchased when I first became interested in pu-erh. I remember playing with it when I first got it but was never able to find much use with it. The aromas from the freshly wetted leaves were so much more robust and enticing. I soon abandoned the wenxiangbei and developed my own routine of noting the changing aromas from the leaves themselves from one infusion to the next. But that was then, and this is now, and being that I've got a tad bit more experience with tea I figured I'd give it another go.

After a rinse of the leaves I filled and then emptied the aroma cup. The tall narrow design of it makes for a can't-miss channeling of aroma-to-nose. True to the promise of the dry leaf fragrance I gratefully inhaled the soft smell of butterscotch candy. Mmmm... Curious to know if the wet leaves in the gaiwan would offer the same, I picked it up to take a whiff. !!! Nothing like the aroma cup at all! The wet leaves were all about big high-note fruits, jujubes and oranges. Clearly I've been missing out by shunning the aroma cup and I vow to start using it again.

I won't go on and on about each infusion with this post. I'm in more of a summary mood tonight. The color of the soup was a darkened yellow, like yellow ochre with a bit of burnt umber mixed in (one of the benefits of being an artist is a much-expanded color vocabulary). It was also slightly hazy. Not crystal clear. The rock sugar, fruit and butterscotch aromas of the initial infusions soon settled into a unique sweet-and-savory buttered fruit aroma with an occasional note of coffee underneath. Very nice. The taste had a nice hui gan that showed sweet around the edges and was fairly long lasting. Even though it's evening now as I write this I can still taste the echoes of this tea in my mouth (I love it when a tea does that). A nicely balanced ku with this one, too, giving it a mouth-watering quality. There was some nice qi, as well -- not the kind that makes you feel floaty, but one that seems to round all the sharp edges off of life. Outside my window as I was drinking this tea the sky was overcast but still bright. The kind of light photographers love for its gentle diffuse quality. That's what this qi was like.

I spent much of the morning sipping on this tea. The later infusions increased in sweetness, making it a pleasure to drink.

2005 Dehong Wild Trees Puerh Brick

2011-01-14T16:39:00.000-08:00

Today's tea of choice was a purchase I made recently based on a review from The Half-Dipper's site, here (plus two other reviews Hobbes links to in his own posting). It sounded so yummy and even though I knew this particular brick might not be the same one he'd tried I found myself irresistibly lured by the rustic handmade look of it (purchased from Holy Mountain Trading Company of San Francisco).

Rustic, indeed! An old cardboard wrapper showing cracks from not-too-careful storage. The five green Chinese (I'm assuming) characters would appear to be hand-painted with some sort of tempera paint except for the perfect half-circle of their arrangement, which would suggest something more stamped than hand-written. Either way, the paint sits on top of the cardboard with a bit of thickness to it.

The brick of tea reveals mostly dark brown with occasional lighter tan leaves which struck me as interesting.

The cross-section shows greater compression on the bottom with looser leaves on the top, which also struck me as notable.

If you zoom in to this pic you can see a clove on the right hand edge, in the middle.

And this was the most surprising thing of all -- cloves! When I pried off some leaves for my gaiwan these two little guys showed up in the mix. I went ahead and added them back in the gaiwan, curious to know why they were mixed in with the leaves and what taste they would add to the tea. If I'd found just one clove I might have thought it got in there accidentally, but finding two in the small amount of leaves I pried off led me to believe that these were intentionally part of the blend.

After a 20-second rinse I took in the fragrance of the leaves. A bit of a horse barn and green hay smell. Not a promising beginning. I've had a few "horse barn teas" before and have always found them ultimately flat and one-dimensionally grassy. Additionally, the newly wetted leaves turned a sickly green color. Another not-so-promising sign. I decided to give this one a second rinse just in case there might be other not-so-pleasant things lurking in my cup.

Still the horse barn aroma but with perhaps a flower garden out back this time. The second rinse seems to have removed much of that sickly look in the leaves although they're still very obviously green. A solid "old choppy green" look now (note the clove bud sitting front and center here) --

I did a first infusion of 12-seconds and was honestly a little scared to taste it. The color of the liquor is decidedly greenish yellow and the taste is like old green tea. Only the very slightest amount of bitterness to it. It wasn't as bad as I feared it might be, but it wasn't like what I know most young puerh to be either (not that I even know that, but I've had a handful). As I get to the bottom of the first cup a surprising floral note hits my nose that's actually quite pronounced and pleasing.

Second infusion -- 12-seconds again. The aroma is squarely in the flower bed now and it's the horse barn that's far off in the distance this time. I notice a bit of dryness in the taste that grabs at the back of my tongue. Also, my breath seems to carry come of that same floral fragrance in between sips. Once again there's a pronounced floral perfume at the bottom of the cup.

Third infusion -- 20-seconds. The aroma is quite flowery now. The hay and the horse barn have disappeared, replaced with some beany vegetal notes off in the distance. And the taste? You've heard of some puerhs tasting like liquid wood? Well, this one is best described as drinking "liquid meadow." That same flower-filled meadow comes back up on my breath too, filling my nose as I breathe. There's also a gentle cooling sensation in my throat and upper chest. I wonder if that might be due to the presence of cloves?

Fourth infusion -- 30 seconds. I've let the water cool through the infusions up to this point. I'm guessing it's around 185-190 now which might be better for this minimally processed greenish tea, but I'm just trying it out. This tea which had at first frightened me is turning into a very pleasant, though different, experience. Still a very mild bitterness in the taste (VERY mild), and a soft (not rough) dryness at the back of my tongue. Continued cooling in the throat and upper chest. Drinking this meadow-like tea in winter like this has me really aching for those early newly-warm spring days.

Fifth infusion -- 30 seconds again, except this time I've brought the water back up to boiling. The fragrance takes up a delicious creaminess now. Smells just like cream. The taste continues to be very pleasant and light and sweet. A very enjoyable tea to drink with just enough grab at the back of the tongue, and just enough activity in my upper chest and throat to make it truly fun to drink.

Sixth infusion (this tea doesn't seem likely to give up anytime soon) -- 45 seconds. The aroma is "cream of meadow soup" now. It makes me happy! That's a good descriptor for the taste, as well. Also, this tea feels so good inside me. It really agrees with my stomach.

Examining the spent leaves takes me back to biology class. A bit of mystery-novel sleuthing, as well. The source of the light tan specks is revealed -- small yellowy leaves that I'm guessing were a very light green, almost colorless, when picked. Or maybe these are the purple tip leaves that Half-Dipper mentions in his tasting of this tea (if, in fact, it's the same tea, and I think it is). There are plenty of chopped leaves and a few stems too, as well as some more unidentifiable bits pictured on the left above. I'm quite sure this is more evidence of cloves. That one hard round pea-like thing looks to be just the end of a particularly meaty clove bud.

Curious now, I hop onto the ever-informative internet and start searching. It seems that cloves are not uncommon in Chinese medicine. In fact, there's a Chinese medicinal tea that uses cloves, peppermint and cinnamon which is supposed to help with digestion (maybe that's why this tea felt so good in my stomach?). Several hours after my session with this tea I find that cooling sensation still present in my throat and upper chest. Maybe there was some peppermint in this tea as well? That's definitely what this cooling sense feels like. Or maybe this is part of the effect of the cloves?

And the verdict? Definitely a very pleasant and enjoyable, if unusual, tea. Obviously not a puerh in the strictest sense, but I love that about it. It speaks to my outside-the-box sympathies and my love for all things artisan and craftsmanship. It's a tea that lends itself easily to story. I can just imagine... a farmer somewhere near Dehong who acquires (maybe harvests himself?) a batch of maocha. He's got a generations-old recipe for a medicinal tea that's well-regarded by all who've tried it. He doesn't have access to the fancy tea-cake making equipment like the factories do so he presses it into bricks, wrapping each one with some cardboard and employing the local kids to stamp each brick with green tempera paint. I wonder what other rustic homemade cakes of tea lie sleeping in the back rooms of San Francisco's Chinatown herb shops?

*** A FOLLOW-UP ***

I've found a bit more information on this tea but it's a little confusing. There are older reviews of this tea floating around the web that claim it was manufactured by the Luxi Tea Factory of Dehong. Another couple of reviews loosely imply it was a Yunnan Sourcing manufactured tea. Currently on the Yunnan Sourcing site there's a Yunnan Sourcing made brick here that looks identical to this one, leading me to believe it's actually a Yunnan Sourcing tea and not Luxi. But then there were those cloves in the mix, which has me completely puzzled. I might have to grab one of the YS bricks just to compare.

Wild Puerh Brick, 1989 (or, To Shu or Not To Shu)

2011-01-13T14:33:00.000-08:00

Typical foggy overcast day. Welcome to winter in Seattle.

Today's tea session was again courtesy of the gentleman who sent me yesterday's tea (which I fear I may have failed so miserably). This one is similarly vaguely described -- "Wild puerh brick, 1989, Jiang Cheng, Yunnan" (that latter bit being about the origin and not the manufacturer). Is this a shengpu or a shupu? I'd only ordered sheng but maybe this was an extra sample tucked in? I decide to test my discernment skills once again and wait to check my order records. We'll see how I do.

Again, nice meaty chunks are pulled from the sample bag and the leaves pull apart easily with just a tug of my fingers. My first impressions are that this is a raw puerh (shengpu). None of that en masse stuck-togetherness that I find in the few other shupu's I've tried. Still, the leaves are surprisingly uniformly dark, but then it's a 20 year old brick so maybe that's what happens?

After a 10-second rinse I smell the wet leaves. Nuts! A mixture of almonds and hazelnuts. I've had only one other tea with this unique nutty aroma and it happens to be one of my favorites -- Bana's Denong Wild brick. But that's a cooked puerh. Hm. A first infusion of 8-seconds and the aroma is solidly hazelnut now. The liquor pours a surprisingly dark brown with a hint of orange hue. This sure is reminding me of shupu. The taste is so very earthy and smooooooth. It coats my mouth nicely. No ku (bitterness) at all. It reminds me a lot of my beloved Denong Wild.

More infusions and more of that smooth, delicious dark brew, although "medium aged wood" is added to my tasting notes as the session progresses. It's not as dark as the deep composing humus-y woods of the Gong Ting I have from New Century, but it's not new wood either. So "medium aged wood" it is. Later infusions reveal a gradual shift in the aroma. The extreme nuttiness gives way to... well, it's hard to pin down, but if you were to ask me to come up with an aroma reminiscent of the late 80's this might be a good candidate. Reagan-era aroma?? Now there's a descriptor to beat them all!

This tea is reminding me so much of the Denong Wild that I decide to brew up some of that as well. A side-by-side comparison. I'm convinced now this mystery tea is a shu and not a sheng. It's so smooth and dark and it lacks the depth and complexity of shengpu. A pure delight to drink, though. Don't get me wrong.

(although Bana's brick is pictured here, the liquor in the cup is the '89 tea)

Bana's 2009 Denong Wild brick does have one big difference from this tea -- it's compressed to a challenging rock-like level. No way I'd be able to pry off anything even resembling a leaf with just my fingers. And since I'm in a hurry this morning to get to an appointment I gouge off some ugly bits with the pick. But this tea and I are good friends and I know I'll be forgiven for such rough treatment (still, I silently promise to be much kinder in the future).

A rinse and a pour and I'm taking in that wonderful aroma. Though the Denong Wild shares this all-nuts characteristic with the other tea, it surpasses it in sweetness. Pecans all the way, the sweetest of the nuts. The Denong Wild pours a richer color, as well. More orange and antique gold in the light making the dark brown brew nearly glow. More vibrancy and aliveness to the aroma too, and the taste is more assertively woody than the 1989 tea. Mmmm I love this tea.

But the '89 tea is not bad. It's actually quite good. If I'd never had the Denong Wild I'd be going nuts for it (oy.. pun..). But side by side there's no contest. Still, I start to wonder. These teas are exactly 20 years apart. Very similar in many ways but the 1989 is gentler, slower, sweeter around the edges, which is actually a fairly decent description of what happens when people age, too. It could be that the '89 tea is a glimpse of the future for the Denong Wild.

Later after cleaning up I go to check my records to see if my hunch about this tea being a shupu was right. To my great surprise, I was wrong!! It's listed as a sheng! I'm still in some disbelief about it. I've had so few shu's so I can't really trust myself on this one, but there was so much similarity to the cooked Denong Wild. So much smoothness and easy-drinking sweet dark wood. One thing's for sure, I'll be keeping this tea in mind when tasting shu's in the future. So dark and smooth... I could have sworn...

Something raw, wild and Yiwu, 2003

2011-01-11T14:27:00.000-08:00

Well shoot. Here I was feeling all newly empowered with impressive (or so I thought) puerh discernment skills, so I sit down today full of confidence with a shengpu (ooooh she's using jargon now) from an overseas vendor who's reputation is stellar among those in the know. Let's see how she fares..

I'm inspired to start learning more about what the cake will tell me, even before prying the leaves off. A pretty one, this one. Maybe not as shiny as photos I've seen of other highly anticipated teas, but clearly nice long leaves. I'm impressed with the meaty chunks of cake I've been sent. Always fun to pull out substantial pieces like this from a sample bag. Can I wax on about percentage of tips to stems and potential oxidation factors? No. Don't know if I'll ever reach that level of familiarity, but it doesn't hurt to open the door.

This one shows lots of red, indicating oxidation. Wait, wrong leaf..

The dried leaves smell promising, like candied tobacco. A 5-second rinse and there's a flash of tobacco in the air followed by sweet fleshy fruits. But almost as soon as the aromas present themselves they quickly recede. Darn. I do a short 5-second infusion but the aromas from the wet leaves stay stubbornly backstage leaving only a faint soft sweetness behind. The liquor is a tawny Indian yellow and the taste is decidedly uninteresting. Maybe this is one of those teas that reveals itself more slowly?

A second infusion of 10-seconds this time -- the wet leaf fragrance rises briefly with some softly vanilla'd tobacco but quickly fades again. Color a bit deeper. Taste is again 'blah' except for the slightest sense of tongue-tingling and a bit of dryness. Okay. Onward ho.

12-seconds this time and the liquor pours more orange, giving me hope. I quickly plunge my nose into the wet leaves to catch what fragrances I can. Malty notes come forward this time (again briefly) rounding off the fruit. There's a gentle and mild warmth in my chest and a bit of perspiration at the temples but nothing to write home about. Taste-wise there's a bit of ku (bitterness) as the liquor cools, but I'm still not finding myself impressed with this tea and I start to worry. Is the tea failing me, or am I failing the tea? I fear it's the latter. Maybe I don't have the developing palate I thought I had? Perhaps my brewing practice is off? Maybe the water or the kettle are killing this tea? I'm confused.

15-seconds this time and the wet leaves return a distinct fragrance of soft leather settling into a distant hint of sugar cubes. Nice and comforting, but the taste still isn't there. Next is a 23-second dunk. Fragrance-wise nothing comes out to greet me. All stays distant and hard to distinguish. The taste (or is this mouth feel?) shows as dryness on the tongue. And is there qi in this one? Hard to tell if it's the tea putting me in a contemplative mood or if that's due to my great effort to be mindful with this session. Mudkip stayed ever-faithfully nearby but was mostly uninterested, intently gnawing on a few stubborn tangles in her fur. She has an uncanny way of reflecting the state of my tea session.

"Must you keep at those annoying noises, mom? Isn't it clear that I'm busy?"

What is hui gan?

2011-01-10T11:55:00.000-08:00

The more I try various pu-erhs and experience what they have to offer, the more I'm coming to discern their subtleties. Hui gan is a term that's bandied about by everyone interested in pu-erh, but what is it exactly? The short succinct description on Bana's website may sum it up best:

The two adjectives commonly used by Chinese to describe the aftertaste are “hui gan” and “hui tian.” Hui gan refers to a cooling sensation that penetrates the entire mouth and in the back of the throat. "Hui tian" refers to the subtle sweet finish of the teas.

I found another helpful explanation on a site called Chinese Teas 101, on their page explaining Chinese tea jargon:

Gan (Gum)	Minty bitterness - one type of bitterness. It's a 2 dimensional taste. Slightly bitter first, then comes the slightly sweet taste (not exactly sweet but forgive me, I can't tell exactly in English). When breathing, the tongue & month gets a cool feeling. If it's strong enough, it keeps coming back for a long while and it's called Hui Gan (see below).
Hui Gan (Wui Gum)	"Recurring Gan". See above for explanation of Gan.

The most extensive and certainly most eloquent explanation is this one from an unfortunately long-defunct blog titled "My Life as A Tea Leaf." It's so well-put I think I'll copy in the whole posting. It would be a great shame to lose this information:

The Ineffable, Effable, Effanineffable...

Hui Gan 回甘, Hui Tian 回甜, Sheng Jin 生津, & Hui Yun 回韻…In literally term, Hui Gan, sometimes referred to as Hui Wei, is to reflect sweetly on a past event. Borrowing from the term 'to reflect', Hui Gan in tea is, simply put, a reflection on the sweetness of the tea - when one drink the tea, when the tea slides through the cavity of the mouth into the throat, there comes, after a short while, a sweetness that rises up from the throat. This sweetness is sometimes accompanied with a fragrance. Do not keep the upper and lower mouth pressed together when sipping tea, but create a cavity instead by lowering the jaw. Let the tea wash over the entire inside of the mouth, and then direct the tea to slide from the sides of the jaw into the throat. While holding the empty cavity, breathe out instead of in after you swallow the tea, there is warmth in the breath accompanied by a fragrance, and the same fragrance that rises up from the throat. This is Hui Gan. Depending on the quality of the tea, Hui Gan can be a lasting or short one. Sometimes, on tea that is medium oxidized and/or fermented, there is a lingering sweetness in the mouth that is not apparent at first, but noticeable after a while. Sometimes it comes first before Hui Gan, sometimes together. Most people considered this as part of Hui Gan - which it is - Hui Gan after all, is to reflect on the sweetness... technically, this is a breaking of the complex sugars in the tea by enzymes into simple sugar. This sweetness establishes itself in the mouth and doesn't come from the back of the throat; people who separate the two term this Hui Tian. Before we can get Hui Tian, we need the enzymes to break down the sugars in the tea. When the tea washes over the mouth, some chemicals in it excite the saliva glands on the two sides under the tongue to produce saliva. The welling of saliva under the tongue is called Sheng Jin. Hui Yun is an even more elusive term, it is more of a feeling that a tangible feel in the mouth: it is a combination of the above and the experience of drinking the tea. One will have to drink the tea in order to experience this… it is the inexpressible, as T.S. Eliot writes in The Dry Salvages:

We had the experience but missed the meaning
And approach to the meaning restores the experience
In a different form beyond any meaning
We can assign to happiness
The past experience revived in the meaning
Is not the experience of one life only
But of many generations
Not forgetting something that is probably quite ineffable

The ineffable and the effable, in a cup of tea.

Talk about eloquent! I love the author's inclusion of that Eliot poem at the end (and "effanineffable" is my new #1 favorite word -- classic).

Had you asked me several months ago to describe hui gan and hui tian I wouldn't have been able to respond, except to quote something like the Bana site description. But I'm really getting a sense for these tea qualities now.

After yesterday's big-gun tea session with the Da Du Gan, I was moved this morning to revisit one of my favorite Bana teas, the Purple Tip. Remember what I said about listening to the leaves? Here's what they told me this morning. I started my tea session with the gaiwan of the Da Du Gan from yesterday (I saved it in the fridge overnight). Much-mellowed now, the qi was much softer and the fragrance had lost a lot of it's fruity sweetness, settling into a dominant sweet tobacco aroma. Nice, but it made me long for the mysteriously sweet fragrance of the Purple Tip that I love so much. So I prepared some, but I was anxious to smell that aroma and I practically dunked the leaves with just-boiled water. They didn't like that. When I went to smell them they'd pulled back that mysterious sweet fragrance and offered me something a little more coarse. I tried to make up for it by treating the tea a little more kindly in subsequent infusions, and it responded to some degree, but it's a lesson to me. I've heard it said that every tea has a learning curve and each requires a slightly different handling to bring out it's best. I just bumped up on that learning curve this morning.

It wasn't all a bust though, and as I've been thinking a lot lately about these matters of "hui gan" and "hui tian" I brought more attention to the Purple Tip with these in mind. Yes, some nice hui gan with this one. My mouth and throat returned with a distinct cooling sensation that lasts for a bit of time. I can't say there was a tremendous amount of sweetness to it. Certainly nothing like the mouth-full-of-honey from the '06 Yi Wu Cha Wang. But maybe a little. Out of curiosity I also brewed up a cup of Bana's 2005 Yiwu Golden Unicorn. The Purple Tip definitely excels in the hui gan department with a much stronger and longer-lasting cooling sensation.

1999 Da Du Gan "Yunnan Yuan Bao" Chi Tse

2011-01-09T20:12:00.000-08:00

1999 Da Du Gan "Yunnan Yuan Bao" Chi Tse (sample)

purchased from Hou De Asian Art & Fine Teas

Manufacturer: Da Du Gan Factory/Chan Tai Factory produced

The first of a string of big guns. Am I ready for this? I think so. Been developing my palate and cutting my teeth on a variety of pu's (much more than what I've written about here). Time to learn what some age can bring to a good pu-erh. Guang from Hou De rates this as his #2 favorite arbor pu-erh from the late 90's, and he's certainly reputed to know his stuff. I appreciate the advice from some folks that one shouldn't rely on others' recommendations and should find out for themselves what pu-erh taste profiles they prefer. But when you're new to pu-erh and you're staring at over 1100 varieties just on Yunnan Sourcing alone... well, I don't think it's so bad to try out some others' suggestions as a start. It's not like I've gone and plunked down the $320 asking price for a full cake of this. Samples are a girl's best friend --

Hmmm... how to brew these precious leaves? This is where practice is important. I've played enough with these teas to have some idea of the difference a few seconds will make or how temperature might affect it. Granted, I'm no expert. Far from it. But I've got a little experience under my belt now. Some of the best advice I've heard is to simply listen to the tea (hence the title of this blog), which I think is what makes the experience of drinking pu-erh (especially the more complex and nuanced stuff) so sublime.

First, the rinse. I did a very quick one with water that had cooled slightly from boiling, but looking back now I probably didn't need to be so fast about it. These leaves have been sitting around for 12 years. I'm sure they're mighty thirsty. They just look it, don't they?

"Feed me!"

After pouring off the rinse water I get to the best part of pu-erh, for me -- the first aromas of the freshly wetted leaves. mmmm, so good... From the first whiff it was clear I was in for a very enjoyable (and very educational) session. First was that classic tobacco-y smell, except it was so alive and vibrant it actually made my nose tingle. Almost immediately the fragrance deepened with dark dried fruit, prune and date, settling into deep fruit and molasses. As the leaves started to cool the tobacco rose up again to take front stage.

The first infusion I played very safe, doing a quick 3-4 seconds with water that had sat for several minutes in the kettle since boiling. I knew the liquor would be light, but I wanted to unfold this tea very slowly and savor it for all it's worth. The color of the liquid was a pale orange, hinting at what it would become in later infusions. And the taste? An immediate tingle at the back of my tongue and throat. By the end of that first cup my whole mouth was buzzing and there was a very faint sweetness all around. But the tingling and sweetness was all very quiet and subtle. Clearly I needed to add a few more seconds to the brewing time.

Second infusion: 8 seconds with freshly boiled water. Still wanting to play it on the safe side, but I felt this was a good next step. First, a revisit to that gorgeous fragrance of the wet leaves. I wrote them down in the order they registered: leather, tobacco, prune, dark sweet cherry, honey, and then lingering off into all sorts of wafty wonderfulness. If they ever make a perfume with this kind of complexity and changeability I'd buy it in an instant. The color of the liquor is darker now though I'm sure it won't reveal itself fully for another infusion or two. The taste this time is more assertive. There's dryness developing at the back of the palate. I can feel the qi rising as well, filling my head. My whole mouth is tingling and a warmth builds deep inside my chest. Is there hui gan present? I'm still struggling to understand what hui gan means exactly. I've had pu-erhs that go down with a sort of bitterness and rise back up to a distinct sweetness, which I'm thinking is hui gan. With this tea there is very little of that bitterness and very little of that sweetness. At least not yet. But everything else -- wow.

For the 3rd infusion I go for 12-13 seconds, still playing it safe. I don't want to push it too hard yet until I'm satisfied I've had all the subtleties of the first revealings. The wet-leaf aroma of leather and tobacco stays longer this time. The fruit and honey fragrances are there but stay behind the main players, only coming forward as the leaves start to cool. I can taste some fruit in the tea now as well, and my mouth starts salivating. The qi is felt all through my head and body now leaving me feeling soft and floaty. I can feel sweat at my temples and forehead and heat through my whole body. Even my fingers feel warm and perspire-y. This is a first for me, this sense of "perspire-y-ness". I've read about it in others' reviews, but with pretty much all of them being male and me being female (and so of that biased perspective) I kept picturing something more... well... masculine. Sweating men, you know... ;) But thankfully I wasn't left dripping and mopping off beads of sweat (not that all men perspire that way, but I fear this image did creep into my mind as I read various reports of teas that cause one to perspire). Anywho, after finishing my third cup I was satisfied it was time to push the next infusion a bit. Still wasn't getting that rising sweetness I've had in other pu-erhs, though. Maybe it was yet to come?

For the 4th infusion I threw counted seconds to the wind and went with intuition. I poured the water, placed the gaiwan lid on for about 10 seconds and then lifted it back up to agitate the leaves with it, watching the color of the water change and waiting for a sense of "okay.. Now". I did keep count, though. I got the "now" signal at about 30 seconds. The tea was a nice rich sienna now, and I am very definitely tea drunk. The tongue-tingling and mouth-salivating continues full on as I drink it. I suddenly remembered -- what about "mouth feel?" I hadn't jotted any notes down about that yet. But it didn't hit me with sensations of "thick" or "silky". In fact, the mouth feel was nothing special. I've read that drinking from old tea cups can contribute to a better mouth feel, but for now all I have is this recently made blown glass cup, though I do have a couple of antique tea cups on order. It'll be fun to try those out.

For my 5th infusion I go with 50 seconds, pushing the tea a little more. The aroma of the wet leaves is mellowing now. All the fragrance notes I've been identifying are still there, but they're coming together now, less separate and more melded. My tea drunkenness is huge now and all I want from life is to sit and gaze out the window, settling into this mellow buzz. Truly, this stuff is akin to Prozac! I keep hearing that line from Star Wars echoing through my head, "The Force is strong with this one" (yes.. geekdom.. I know..). But still no rising sweetness to it. I'm a little bummed.

For the 6th infusion I push quite a bit harder. Two minutes this time. Let's see what it's got. The aromas are all familiar and while they've mellowed some there's still a vibrancy and aliveness to the fragrance. The tingling and warmth continues. This is truly a deeply penetrating tea, that's for sure. But I'm wishing there was more sweetness to it. Definitely a tea to take one's time with, savoring the qi if not the flavors. Still plenty of rising salivation and perspire-y feeling (just can't bring myself to say "perspiration" as it conjures up more brute sweatiness than is true for the experience).

And the 7th infusion? I remember pouring the water. I remember starting to count. But then my buzzing head got distracted and I was off playing with the camera or something. Suffice it to say the leaves got a serious dunking. I'm guessing it was maybe 4 or 5 minutes. Longer than I would have gone for if my well-fuzzified brain hadn't wandered off. A strong brew indeed. Much stronger than it needed to be, or than my stomach was comfortable with. I decided to call the session done for today and am saving the leaves for more playtime tomorrow. But not before spending some moments examining the wet leaves. I notice they all have surprisingly strong and prominent spines to them. A hallmark of true arbor leaves, I'm guessing.

And the verdict? Major qi in this one, with body sensations galore, and a joy to take in those many nuanced aromas. But... I kept wishing it had more taste and flavor to it. Reading over Guang's tasting notes I see he talks some about this too, which is nice to read as it affirms my palate is developing nicely. I've got several more samples of well-reputed older pu-erhs on the way, though. I'm interested to know if this is a characteristic of most older pu-erhs, or if it's just this one in particular. Stay tuned...

Moonlight White from Jingmai

2011-01-04T19:23:00.000-08:00

Moonlight White from Jingmai, from Bana Tea Company

2010 vintage, spring harvest

Type: raw loose-leaf pu'erh, premium grade

Production area: Jingmai Mountain, Simao Prefecture, Yunnan province

The write-up on this tea, from Bana's website:

This loose leaf Moonlight White was discovered at a roadside tea shop during our trip to the tea mountains of Yunnan. The tea master from this tea shop is meticulous in the processing of their teas and the quantity they have is extremely limited. Bana is very pleased to have procured a small supply of this tea for the Moonlight White followers.

Just finished a session with this tea and I can't get "Big Rock Candy Mountain" out of my head. This pu'erh is sweet-sweet-sweet! Just every kind of sweet. My tasting notes go from "sweet hay and fruit" to "malt and caramel" to "nectarine and butterscotch". If I was pressed to give a single descriptor to the aroma it would have to be "candied malted sweet hay." Even when the leaves cooled off in the gaiwan they continued to fill the air with major-big sweet.

This one's a loose-leaf pu'erh. My 8 gram sample pack filled the gaiwan to the brim. Like Bana's 2007 Moonlight White, this one had that distinctive creamy pale green and black coloring to the dry leaves. I noticed that almost all of the leaves were fully intact. Is this a leaf-and-bud pick? I'm afraid I'm not quite sure what a tea bud looks like, but as you can see above each piece included one leaf and one "bud-like leaf". By that I mean it was the very tip where a new leaf is curled up inside another leaf, on the verge of emerging. Is that a bud? I don't know :(

The liquor brewed up nicely yellow. First infusions were a pale lemon yellow but by the 3rd infusion it had deepened to gorgeous Indian yellow --

And the taste? Was a little different from the usual pu'erh tastes I've come to know. Certainly the sweetness was there. At times it struck me as a very mellowed green tea, which I guess would make sense since this was picked less than a year ago. At other times it was almost oolong-like with it's big fragrance. "Creamy" is a word I would associate with the taste. Can't really say it had the complexity of my favorite pu'erhs, but by no means was it unpleasant to drink. Just different. Delicate. And sooooo full of sweet (especially in the aroma). It did produce a faint tingle on my tongue and also a faint dryness that grabbed at the back of my throat. I guess the big question is, would I buy more of this? Maybe. It would be a nice sweet mellow counterpart to drink when I've had too much of the strong stuff. Very pleasant in a sweet and feminine way.

2011-01-03T20:49:00.000-08:00

Oh my. I should have heeded the warnings, but no... I had to go ahead and become a tea-head. It all seemed so innocent at first. Just a hop skip and a jump to a local tea shop in the international district. All those yummy and mysterious-smelling teas in big glass jars. Like walking into an ancient apothecary. It was the long jing that started it. I'd had plenty of tea in my lifetime before then -- store bought bags of fake fruity stuff... the occasional cup of "green tea" that was supposed to be full of something good for my health. But I was never turned-on by it. Not until that really good, and really expensive (compared to the grocery store stuff), long jing. There was no going back. Soon I was ordering fresh quality green teas from far-off places. All *yum*.

Next I started sampling some oolongs from my favorite little local tea shop, but those flowery/fruity aromas were so loud and overwhelming! Nothing like the subtlety of the greens. The more I've learned about tea the more I find myself wondering if I just haven't had really good oolong (except for that one wuyi shui xian, but it could have been my great weakness for chocolate that was responsible for the glowing review, more so than the tea itself).

And then. Pu-erh. If you've got a thing for subtlety like I do, then this is the tea for you. But heed the warnings! That innocent preference for "good tea" quickly snowballs into an obsession. It won't be long before those $50+ cakes of tea don't look as expensive as they used to (but hey -- you get dozens of of tea sessions out of a cake, and you can store them and maybe they'll be worth a bundle someday, but then you'd never think of selling them because your only thought is how much more sublime the tea will taste in years to come). And then you start reading about the mind-blowing experiences of tasting aged pu'erhs and you feel like you just *have* to try one out. Nevermind that a cup of good 30 to 40 year old pu will set you back a Ben Franklin or two. And DO NOT start reading blogs and reviews and forums! Not unless you have a lot of disposable cash to, um, dispose of.

And so it is with 2011. Thanks to my burgeoning tea addiction, coupled with some Christmas cash from Santa, I've got some mighty nice tea headed my way through the mail right now. I'm counting the days...

2004 "Zhai Zhi Po" Beeng

2011-01-01T13:54:00.000-08:00

2004 Nan-Jian first batch "Zhai Zhi Po" Beeng

Purchased from Hou De Asian Art & Fine Teas

Type: Raw uncooked pu'erh

Manufacturer: Nan-Jian Factory

Origin: Zhai Zhi Po region, categorized as "small leaf arbor" tea trees

This was a free sample sent to me with the cake I ordered, below. I know some people complain that these tea review blogs only give positive reports on teas, so this one will shake things up a bit. I had high hopes for this tea upon opening the bag. The leaves, even in their dry state, were richly fragrant with plenty of tobacco and vanilla and some overtones of sweet citrus fruits. Same with the aroma from the freshly wetted leaves. It smelled so promising! But the taste of the first infusion was uninteresting and flat. Really nothing going on at all. Even the color of the liquor was unexciting -- a boring brown color with a very slight tinge of dull orange. But sometimes tea doesn't reveal itself until later infusions, so I marched on. 2nd infusion (which I steeped for a bit longer than I normally might with other pu'erhs) showed a faint hui gan, a little dry and bitter at first but soon rising to a subtle and mellow sweetness. But it was weak and not very pronounced. Certainly not like the tea from my last post. 3rd infusion showed a stronger hui gan, but still there was little flavor to the tea. Just not much there to add interest and complexity. You can see from the picture, too, that the leaves were quite small and broken up, in addition to being a uniform flat brown color. I tried a few more infusions but it wasn't long before my stomach started to tense up and hurt, and I know from experience that when a tea causes that sort of reaction in me I'd better abandon that tea session quickly or be uncomfortable for the rest of the day. Disappointing.

2006 Autumn Yi Wu Cha Wang

2010-12-29T11:18:00.000-08:00

purchased from Hou De Asian Art & Fine Teas

Harvest and production: 2006 Autumn

Type: Raw (sheng) pu'erh cake

Manufacturer: Chen Guang-He Tang

Origin: from "Gua Feng Zhai", a very high and remote region in Yi Wu

It's been awhile, I know. The holidays have been keeping me busy. On the tea front I've been mostly revisiting the ones in my stock, settling in with a few favorites (the Denong Wild and the Purple Tip, both from Bana). But I've been venturing out again lately and acquiring some new teas, including this wonderful Yi Wu Cha Wang pu'erh from 2006 which had a couple of glowing reviews on the Hou De website.

And the verdict? Definitely a winner. A good purchase indeed. A very complex and nuanced tea. The cake itself is lovely, stone-compressed with big juicy leaves. I used my new pu'erh pick (thank you Linda Louie of Bana Teas!) to pry off a few grams (I'm liking this pick much better than the bone knife I was using previously, which always seemed to pulverize the leaves just as much as pry some off whole). You can see the pick and the knife next to each other below -

The best part of a good pu'erh for me is always that first whiff of aroma. This one showed top notes of plum (lots of plum!) with subtle malt undertones, all mixed around with that classic fragrant pu'erh smell. The liquor itself was a pale straw color with hints of apricot coloring, smooth and slippery on the tongue with a pleasantly subtle thickness. The taste also revealed overtones of plum, with delicate flavors and a distinctly dry quality. Not unpleasantly dry, but just *there*. Nice.

Perhaps the best and most surprising aspect of this tea came to me not while I was actively drinking it but while I was sitting for a bit between infusions. I suddenly noticed a sweetness filling my mouth and throat! Had I just not noticed it before? Or was this part of the unfolding of this particular tea? Perhaps it was a bit of both, but it made for a delightful surprise -- a great example of what they call "hui gan". Later, after several infusions, the sweetness grew into the most exquisite sense of warmth filling my throat and chest, even down to the lower regions of my torso. Very nice. I had just as much fun sitting and 'not' drinking this tea, feeling it move through my body, as I did smelling and tasting it. Definitely a full-body tea experience, infusing me with a sense of calm and balance and all-is-well-in-the-world. Lovely lovely tea :)

An Ji Bai Cha green tea

2010-09-15T08:43:00.000-07:00

An Ji Bai Cha green tea, grade AAA

purchased from Jing Tea Shop

Type: baked green tea from first spring pick 2010

Origin: An Ji Hu Zhou city, Zhe Jiang province

I think I found another favorite and special green tea. The aroma of this green tea (which, according to Jing Tea Shop's write-up, is a baked green tea or "Hong Qing Lu Cha") is all big greens with an added smell I couldn't quite place. I'm tempted to call it a non-smokey smoke aroma, but there is no smoke in this tea. Maybe it's the aroma from being baked? I don't know, but it gives the smell of greens a somewhat hard edge. Not unpleasant, just different. I was surprised to pour it and find that the color of the liquor is nearly colorless. I thought maybe I just hadn't steeped it long enough, but infusion after infusion showed this same near-colorless liquid. It was about as close to the color of pale moonlight as I've seen. Jing Tea Shop describes it as "pale white green". I'd have to agree. But for the lack of color in the liquor, the taste is surprisingly good. Very sweet all around (not sweet like candy, but sweet as in how the flavor impacts). There's also a hint of sweet (not acidic) citrus, as well. Very nice. Another great thing about this tea is how the aftertaste goes on for such a long long time, again very sweet, leaving a distinctly fresh (almost tingly after the first infusions) feel way down into the throat. Whereas Long Jing green teas are all about rich beany greens, this one is all about sweet and fresh. A winner :)

2008 Menghai "Peacock of Mengsong"

2010-09-13T10:02:00.000-07:00

Menghai "Peacock of Mengsong" raw pu'erh

(label inside says "Yunnan Chi Tse Beeng Cha")

purchased from Yunnan Sourcing

Vintage 2008

Type: raw pu'erh

Origin: Menghai Tea Factory, Peacock series cakes are single estate teas, this one from Mengsong Mountain

I purchased this cake after reading another online review of it and thankfully it doesn't disappoint. The aroma of the leaves is perfectly sweet and fresh. Definitely one of the better-smelling pu'erhs I've had. The taste is smooth and mellow. Very pleasant and easy to drink. A tad bit of bitterness in the aftertaste of the stronger infusions (infusions #3 and 4, mostly), especially as the tea cooled, but not overpowering and what you would expect from a good tea. I'm not complaining! Overall a very pleasant and drinkable tea. I'm glad I picked up a whole cake of this one.

Wuyi Shui Xian oolong

2010-09-09T09:33:00.001-07:00

Traditional Wuyi Shui Xian oolong

purchased from Jing Tea Shop

Vintage 2008

Type: AnXi (rock) oolong

Finally! An oolong I LIKE! And what's not to like about something that smells like dark roasted chocolate?? yummmmmm... This Wuyi Shui Xian is a bit aged -- from 2008 -- and is called "traditional", I think, because it's very well-roasted. Many popular modern oolongs are not roasted as much as they used to be. Or at least that's what I read somewhere. The taste of this tea is just as scrumptious as the aroma, with overtones of chocolate and a long sweet aftertaste that leaves a pleasant cooling sensation in the throat long after you've had your last sip. I could drink this tea all day and be a very happy camper! My cat certainly sensed my contentment, as you can see here --

Jing Gu Yang Ta raw pu'erh

2010-09-02T10:02:00.000-07:00

Jing Gu Yang Ta pu'erh, purchased from Yunnan Sourcing

2010 first spring pick

Type: raw/green, grades unknown

Production notes: picked by the Yang Ta cooperative in Jing Gu county, Simao prefecture

This tea was a free sample included with another order I placed with Yunnan Sourcing. I love it when tea sellers send little free samples like this. Especially a place like Yunnan Sourcing who sell well over a thousand teas. It's impossible to pick which ones to try. What a delight to open this package and find a good-sized chunk from the edge of a compressed cake. I had no problem separating large whole leaves with just my fingers. The Denong Wild I like so much from Bana Tea Company is much harder compressed and has been giving me lots of practice with the pu'erh knife as I try to separate out the leaves without ending up with a pile of crumbs.

This particular tea (the Jing Gu Yang Ta pu'erh) is apparently from a strain of the tea plant called Camellia Taliensis (as opposed to the usual Camellia Sinensis), according to Yunnan Sourcing's write-up. So I was interested to find out how it might taste different from the teas I'm used to. The aroma of the wetted leaves first made me think of hay in a horse barn. None of that fruity-flowery scent you often get with Camellia Sinensis leaves. Throughout my tasting session I smelled the leaves often and it settled into a very pleasant sweet hay smell (the horse barn part of the scent only appeared in the first wetting).

The color of the liquor was a beautiful pale lemon yellow. I used very hot (near boiling) water and steeped only for 10 seconds or so. Longer steepings proved to be a little more bitter than I like. But the shorter steeping produced a smooth light brew whose taste I would describe as both grassy and almost sweet. The scent of the liquid was pleasant as well, giving off a light sweet bean and fresh hay smell. The aftertaste was long and lingering and very nice. I'm tempted to say there's a bit of qi with this tea, as well -- a very quieting type of qi. A little bit of a cooling sensation to the throat, too. Not a lot, but just subtle. And once the leaves were fully reconstituted they were impressively large and juicy in appearance. The word "meaty" comes to mind. Overall, an enjoyable and somewhat different pu'erh tea experience.

2009 Denong Wild Broad Leaf Species, Ripe Pu'erh

2010-08-23T13:46:00.001-07:00

Denong Wild Broad Leaf Species, purchased from Bana Tea Company

2009 vintage, mixed harvest

Type: Ripe (fermented), mixed grades

Production area: Remote mountain region on the borders between Yunnan and Myanmar

From Bana's website:

Made from 100% rare wild ancient arbor trees, this tea is harvested by the Bulang tribe in a remote area in Yunnan, China. Denong Wild has a robust, nutty pecan flavor, with a sweet finish. A customer describes it as “ … an interesting tea; It will put you to sleep, if that’s what you want or clear the fog out of your head and make you very alert and aware of your surroundings with no jitteriness, if that’s what you’re after.” This tea is available in limited quantities in the U.S. and only through Bana Tea Company.

I love this tea. Definitely one of my most favorite pu'erhs. I've bought several bricks of it just to make sure I don't run out anytime soon (the brick size is quite small, only 100 grams). There's just nothing not to like about this tea. I've been making it for some time now in a gaiwan and it's fabulous. Lots of sweet nuts and pecans in both the aroma and taste. Not your typical pu'erh in that the floral and fruit notes are well hidden (or maybe perfectly combined?) in this great nutty characteristic. I love the qi in this tea, as well. It's very mellow and contributes to a clear sense of present awareness. No anxiousness at all, which is sometimes present in teas that possess a strong qi. I know when I drink this tea that my day will pervade with calm, even when my days are full of chaos. Love-love-love this tea :)

Recently I purchased my first yixing teapot. Actually, I bought two -- a really cheap one from Yunnan Sourcing (I think it was less than $30) and the one pictured below, from Jing Tea Shop (not so cheap, but I know it's well made and authentic). After spending some time getting the teapots initially seasoned from a few days soaking in tea water I made my first pot of tea this morning in the Jing pot. Of course, my first-ever yixing pot of tea had to be the Denong Wild from Bana. I knew that using the yixing pot would alter the flavor of the tea and I was interested to see how that worked. I definitely have a learning curve, though. I wasn't sure how much tea to use but remembered something somewhere about filling the pot roughly half full with tea leaves. That turned out to be way too much, so I had some pretty strong tea this morning. Thankfully, the Denong Wild is just as good this way, although I can't really speak yet to how the teapot altered the experience and flavor of the tea. From just this first experience I can say that the yixing pot seemed to soak up a lot of that great nuttiness of the Denong Wild, but in turn it really brought out the classic woody pu'erh aroma and taste. Something about that smell instantly transports me someplace back in time, a few hundred years ago to tea trading house in a port town in China. Don't ask me why I get this sense of transport, although thanks to Hollywood I've got these pictures in my mind of a darkly lit Chinese port town from those first scenes in the second Pirates of the Caribbean movie. Go figure..

UPDATE: June 21, 2011

Funny that this tea would be one of the first I had in that yixing pot. I've been using that little teapot almost everyday now and the speckles of clay have darkened quite a bit. I'm getting a ring of white mineral deposit around the lid now, too. Not sure how to keep that from happening, short of wiping it completely dry after each pour.

Today was a shu day, all Bana Tea Company selections. Their ripe puerh selection is really top notch. Started with the Zhang Xiang Loose Leaf from 1994. Zhang Xiang apparently translates to "camphor scent", and this one definitely had that going on, along with that classic deep woodiness. Dark and smooth. A very pleasant tea to drink. Next up was the 1998 Dahuazi Ripe. Another great shu, with a deep and creamy vanilla cereal sweetness to it, like vanilla oatmeal. Very long-lasting, smooth and clean. With all this good shu going on I found myself wondering how my beloved 2009 Denong Wild brick was faring. I drank a lot of it when I first bought it and loved its nutty pecan sweetness and calming qi. I wondered what 10 months of sitting in my cupboard had done to it (if anything)?

Last summer I had broken apart one of these bricks and stored it in a bag. I opened the bag and took in the smell, surprised to find the most incredibly delicious sweet red berry scent coming off the leaves. This was something new. There was just enough of the pried-off leaves to fill my yixing and I wondered if that intensely sweet berry scent would show up in the tea. Did a 20-second rinse and took in the fragrance. Wow! Even more intensely berry and very sweet. I tried to pin down the scent, but the best I could come up with was "blueberries except more red and less blue" (if that makes any sense). I was eager to taste it. Did a 6-second infusion -- again, intensely sweet berry aroma that stayed strong even as the leaves cooled. To my delight, the flavor showed up full of berries, too. In fact, it was so sweet it almost tasted like it'd been infused with real fruit. Incredibly flavorful. Infusion after infusion this tea just kept giving. Even at the 10th infusion it's still offering a sweet perfume of ripe berry and a terrifically flavorful soup, not to mention that nicely grounding qi it still carries. As the infusions increased in number the sweet nutty characteristic I had loved it for last summer began to rise again, although the berry sweetness remained intermingled, taking on a creamy quality after a time. This is a tea I could drink all day long. Very long-lasting, hugely aromatic and flavorful, nice grounding qi. It keeps my interest for a very long time, with a fragrance that continues to deepen and evolve, and leaving a great taste in my mouth and warmth in my belly. Still love this tea :)

Xiang Hua Tie Guan Yin AA+

2010-08-03T12:31:00.000-07:00

purchased from Jing Tea Shop

Type: An Xi oolong from spring 2010 pick

Origin: Xiang Hua village, inner Anxi county, Fujian province

Dried leaves show small loosely-rolled balls with strong floral aroma even in the dried state. Once wet the aroma is initially eggy, then with fruit and floral. Sweet sugar aroma as the leaves cool. Later aromas reveal less egg and more fruit. Mouthfeel is clean and full, filling all the way to the back of the throat. Taste is mostly florals with only a little egg in the first infusions. Initially this oolong is big and heady filling you with flowery fruity aroma, but as the steepings increase it settles down to a mellow and pleasant experience. I love how those tiny little dry-leaf balls unfurl to such thick succulent leaves --

I keep trying to be an oolong lover, and while I'm sure this oolong is high quality I just don't get the satisfying experiences I have with good vegetal greens or complex qi-filled pu'erhs. Most oolongs I've had seem to be all about the fragrance, which I often find overwhelming. But I'm still trying. I recently had a slightly aged and well-oxidized Wuyi Shui Xian oolong that really made an impression on me. I think that points the way for me with oolongs -- dark, aged and well-roasted. I have some on order now and am looking forward to trying them.