Tea Talk – Perfect Leaves

Tasting Gaoshan Xiaozhong from Laoximen

While I was cleaning up my bookshelf, I found a notebook with a bunch of told tea notes. My goal is to post the notes so I can finally recycle the notebook and clear up some space. The notes are pretty bare compared to what I use now but I’d still like to share them. This is a great opportunity to reacquaint myself with my older teas by tasting them again, if possible. I haven’t done a re-tasting of this gaoshan xiaozhong yet, but I remember I didn’t like it very much. They came from my “tea lady” in Laoximen Tea City. I’ve since learned that her tea’s quality is questionable.

Tea: According to the seller, this tea is “gaoshan xiaozhong /高山小种.” Though her explanation was not very clear (or at least, I didn’t quite understand it), I believe she meant that this is a high mountain variety of lapsang souchong (“zhengshan xiaozhong/正山小种” in Mandarin). I couldn’t find anything called gaoshan xiaozhong online or in my Chinese tea books so I had to use powers of deduction to figure out exactly what I was drinking.

Typically, lapsang souchong comes from Wuyi Mountain in Fujian province. However, the alternative Chinese name for lapsang is “lishan xiaozhong/立山小种,” which leads me to believe the tea may also come from Li Mountain (not to be confused with Li Mountain in Taiwan). Li Mountain is still in the same neighborhood as Wuyi Mountain, so I believe both are very plausible origins. Since “gaoshan” simply means “high mountain,” it makes sense to me that this tea came from a higher altitude than ordinary lapsang, regardless of which mountain it came from. High mountain tea is usually low-yield and generally has a more bold aroma and flavor profile. People usually refer to certain Taiwanese oolong teas as “gaoshan;” I’ve never heard anyone describe black tea as “gaoshan” before.

Lapsang souchong is either smoked (yan/烟) or unsmoked (wu yan/无烟). Based on the flavor, I assume this lapsang is unsmoked. “Xiaozhong” means small leaf, which is a bit counterintuitive because xiaozhong teas actually come from larger leaves. The “small” must refer to the leaves’ position on the plant. Xiaozhong leaves are picked near the bottom of the branch, rather than the top. Leaves near the top of the plant are more valuable and flavorful. “Small leaf” is a pretty common descriptor for black tea. That said, “xiaozhong” rarely finds its way into a tea’s name, so teas called “xiaozhong” almost always belong to the lapsang family.

In short, I believe this tea is a high-altitude black tea from one of Fujian Province’s two major tea mountains.

Company: Because I bought this tea from Laoximen Tea City, it does not belong to any specific company.

Price per Gram: According to my February 2018 Tea Haul post, I bought Gaoshan Xiaozhong for roughly 1 RMB per gram (about $0.15 per gram at current market rate).

Brewing Method: I didn’t write brewing notes for this tea, but based on how I usually brew lapsang, I most likely used 95 – 100 degree water and brewed for 30 seconds. Then I probably added 10 – 15 seconds for each brew thereafter.

Appearance & Smell of the Leaf: Gaoshan Xiaozhong’s dry leaves were long, thin and twisted. They were dark brown with just a few highlights. The dry leaves had the aroma of a typical black tea. It smelled a bit like chocolate with some higher, sweeter notes on top. Whereas many black teas have a deep, hearty fragrance that really gets in your chest, I noticed that gaoshan’s aroma was very shallow. There were hints of dried apricot.

First Steep: My tasting notes simply say “underwhelming, flat.” I wrote that Gaoshan Xiaozhong did not have a strong aftertaste. It was rather sour and frankly, almost as bad as a teabag. The wet leaves were a lighter brown than the dry leaves. Brewing the tea also dampened the high notes, giving the tea a much darker aroma. I detected soapy flavors with a hint of sweet potato. The tea liquor was bright orange. On my second or third cup, the tea started to taste like pickle juice to I poured it out.

Though I didn’t like this tea very much, I enjoyed the journey of trying to figure out exactly what it was. How do you all usually figure out what your mystery teas are?

Mystery Tea: Laoximen Milan Xiang

Tea: Milan Xiang （蜜兰香, Honey Orchid) is a type of fenghuang dancong wulong (single-tree phoenix oolong) from Guangdong Province. Though the Chinese name of the tea typically includes the “honey” character (蜜), sometimes sellers called it use the “rice” character (米) and still others use “secret” (密). As far as I can tell, they’re all the same tea. The Chinese names sound slightly different depending on the character, but it is always romanized to Milan Xiang or Mi Lan Xiang. Milan Xiang is a subspecies of Shui Xian/ Shui Hsien (水仙), which originates from Fujian Province. Over time, the popularity of the tea caused sellers to grow it all over the place, including Guangdong Province.

Company: N/A, I bought the tea at Laoximen Tea City in Shanghai.

Price per Gram: 4 RMB/ ~60 cents per gram, bought “on sale” for 2 RMB/~30 cents per gram (based on current conversion rates)

Brewing Method: Normally, I prefer to brew Milan Xiang at 6-8 grams per 100 ml, but I’d had a light lunch when I tasted this, so I decided to brew 5 grams in 100 ml. Brewing it a little weak meant I wouldn’t get as sick from the caffeine. The first steep was for 30 seconds at about 95 degrees Celsius. Each subsequent brew was about 10 seconds longer.

Appearance & Smell of the Leaf: After heating the teaware, I placed the leaves in the gaiwan and gave it a shake. The leaves smelled like ground coffee. There was a slight hint of dried Chinese bayberry. As for the appearance, they were a long and twisted with dark chocolate brown color. There were broken bits as well, but those broken leaves most likely came from me shoving the bag of tea into my suitcase unprotected when I returned to my apartment.

Laoximen Milan Xiang Dry leaves — Laoximen Milan Xiang’s dry leaves

First Steep: The aroma transformed from dried coffee grounds to wet ones, and it took on a heavy fruity note. There was also a bit of sourness I find characteristic of Milan Xiang. You could probably compare it to artificial sour apple flavoring, but this fragrance was a bit less sweet. It you were to take sour apple and remove the sweetness, you would have the aroma of Milan Xiang. Although it may sound gross to some, I also detected a bit of a pickle juice smell. The sour apple note was stronger, but the pickle juice sourness was there.

The tea liquor was an pink-orange color that wasn’t too dark. When I tasted the tea, I realized it was more floral that fruity. It was much weaker than I’m used to but still satisfying. There as a little bit of bitterness, but I imagine that came from the broken leaves.

Second Steep: The color of the tea was much more distinctly orange and the character started to come out. The roast came to life, giving a stronger coffee flavor. Aerating the tea brought a sweet flavor into the mix. I couldn’t for the life of me identify the floral note. I liked it so much that I wished this Milan Xiang could be a daily drinker, but it was too expensive and I had too little on hand. The huigan (aftertaste) kept rushing forward while I spoke into my phone to take audio notes. It was very intense. Milan Xiang had a medium mouth feel.

Third Steep: After the third steep, the leaves had started to open. They had lightened significantly from a deep, soil brown to a color similar to red clay. I also found some stems in the tea, which I was not too happy about. I picked them out and continued brewing. For some reason, the mouthfeel grew thicker rather than thinner. The third steep was almost syrupy in character and just as sweet. The roasted flavor became weaker and the floral/fruity notes became stronger. Basically, the overall flavor profile of the tea stayed the same but the balance shifted. When I played around with the tea in my mouth, it tasted rather soapy (which isn’t necessarily a bad thing). I could see how someone new to tea would enjoy this one.

The conclusion: The hole-in-the-wall tea always seems to be the best. I loved this tea so much, and I always love the tea from this seller. The issue is that I can’t buy it often because it’s simply out of my budget. He has a pretty successful business though, and some fairly loyal customers. Clearly they also like his tea and his company. I ended my session after four brews, then I stored the leaves in the refrigerator so I could drink them later.

“TOT”: A Tasty Tiny Orange Tea (2007 Ripe Pu’er)

Tea: Tiny Orange Tea (TOT) 2007 Ripe Pu’er Stuffed Xinhui Mandarin Orange

Company: Bitter Leaf Teas

Price per Gram: $0.29 ($5 per piece, or $13 for 3-4 pieces)

There are no pix for this post, because apparently I didn’t take any good ones… Whoops~

Brewing Method: Bitter Leaf’s website has a video (linked above) showing an optional brewing method, but otherwise left no instructions. Because TOT is both a ripe pu’er and a dried orange, I decided to steep it with 100 degree (Celsius) water. The largest gaiwan I had at the time was around 120 ml. To expose more of the leaves, I took the top of the orange off and cut horizontal slits into the orange rind. The idea was to have the orange act like a filter. I added 10 -15 seconds to each brew after the first one.

Appearance & Smell of the Leaf: It’s….so… small! Bitter Leaf isn’t joking when they say the orange is tiny. A small package doesn’t mean a small aroma though. The fragrance hit my nose as soon as I opened the packed. It smelled like a sweet tart. TOT didn’t smell particularly like dried orange or ripe pu’er. It was oddly sour, but in a good way. I could tell right away it was a mandarin orange by the smell (mandarin oranges are superior oranges, don’t @ me). TOT also smelled similar to “ugly oranges” (丑八怪橘子). The leaves themselves looked like Bitter Leaf’s Black Beauty. They were pressed into the orange, so of course it was difficult to get a good look at them.

First Steep: I rinsed like one would normally rinse a pu’er then steeped for 45 seconds. The aroma of the liquor was sweet yet strangely earthy. It smelled like what I imagine cooking red meat in a roasted oolong would smell like. The liquor was a cloudy, coppery orange. I was super nervous about tasting the tea. Perhaps not surprisingly, the first steep tasted overwhelmingly of orange, with only a hint of pu’er. The flavor was medicinal in character but it wasn’t unpleasant.

Second Steep: This steep was about a minute long and I was in love with the color of the resulting tea liquor. The orange gave way to a red, and the coppery tone intensified. The brew was also much more clear than the previous one. As expected, I could taste more of the ripe pu’er in this steep. For some reason, though, this steep came out bitter. I still detected more orange than pu’er, but the pu’er was definitely there (I think that’s where the bitter note was coming from). I was not in love with this brew, but I didn’t hate it either.

Third Steep: I brought out another fairness pitcher so I could have one for fresh steeps (the ones I’m writing about in each section) and one for cumulative steeps. I collect the cumulative steeps by pouring the leftover liquid from each brew into a separate vessel, then after a few brews I try the tea from the secondary vessel. When brewing gongfu style, certain characteristics will come and go depending on the temperature of the water and how long you’ve steeped the tea. Tasting the cumulative brew gives you an “average” of the tea, and is similar to what you would taste when brewing western style.

The third steep was incredibly red. When I tasted the third brew, I audibly gasped in surprise. The flavor was so balanced. The orange was no longer dominating, the pu’er was coming into its own and the medicinal note also calmed down quite a bit. There was no more bitterness in the tea. I still detected something I didn’t quite like, but it wasn’t a bad flavor per se.

Fourth Steep: The orange got fat. The leaves were really trying to break free but the orange was not letting it happen. By the fourth steep, the orange color had left the liquor; it was becoming more brown. The tea was swelling to fill the gaiwan. This is the steep that marked the transition from orange to pu’er. The tartness was gone and the soil flavor increased, but the brew was still relatively balanced.

Fifth Steep: More surprise: the orange flavor made a strong comeback. It may have been because I was playing with the orange after the previous steep. TOT didn’t blow my mind but I liked it. It’s a nice, casual drinker. I hadn’t brewed a tea for so many steeps in a long time.

Sixth – Twelfth Steeps: There was a battle over which flavor would come out on top: ripe pu’er or orange? At times the bitterness was overwhelming, and I noticed that the hotter the water (I had to boil more partway through my tasting) the more bitter the tea. Normally I can’t drink this much tea at once, but because I was only drinking one three-sip cup per steep then pouring the rest into the other pitcher, I could handle it. The orange got so big it was difficult to cover it with water.

Around steep nine, I randomly started to think TOT would be great for cold brews and for cooking. It would go great with chicken, fish or tea eggs. I imagine it would also be awesome to stew pork (I cannot verify this) or lamb. Basically, it would be awesome with everything, lol. I imagine it would go well with lemon grass and black pepper, with a bit of garlic.

Please don’t take my cooking advice. My food is terrible.

For steeps ten – twelve, I took the leaves out of the orange. They were tightly rolled still, and they filled the gaiwan almost completely. There were easily 5 – 7 grams of tea in the orange. TOT’s leaves were the first ripe pu’er I’d had in a year that I actually liked. After brewing the leaves by themselves, I brewed the orange by itself. It tasted like weak candy, but it didn’t have a lot of flavor but itself. Tasting the orange alone, I finally figured out that one of the flavor notes I caught was prickly ash, minus the spice. Prickly ash is technically in the citrus family and I love prickly ash so this is a win.

The conclusion: All in all, TOT was pretty awesome. It’s not on my favorites list, but I enjoyed the experience. I’ll most likely buy it again someday. Bitter Leaf’s tea’s international shipping is pretty gui (expensive), though, so I’ll have to wait a while. Besides, I’m craving some Teasenz products right now.

Wudong Tea: Yulan Xiang（玉兰香）

Tea: Yulan Xiang / Magnolia Fragrance is a type of fenghuang dancong (single tree phoenix oolong).

Company: Wudong Tea/ Chaozhou Tea Growers

Price per Gram: 30 to 34 cents ($15 – $17 per 50 gram packet).

Brewing Method: After my last brewing disaster, I decided to find new brewing instructions for the tea. I found something that said to use 2 – 5 grams of tea for 225 ml gaiwans. My gaiwans are typically about 100 ml, so I did some quick math and decided on 3 grams of tea and 95 degree water. I later found the brewing instructions on the seller’s website. They’re similar to the method I used, but they call for a slightly higher leaf-to-water ratio (5 – 8 grams for 120 – 150 ml, depending on preferred strength) and shorter brewing times.

yulan xiang dry leavesa

Appearance & Smell of the Leaf: The dry leaves were long and twisted, but not super thin. There were browns, dark moss-green leaves and spring greens. They were relatively unbroken when I received them.

I learned that Yulan Xian translates to “magnolia fragrance.” I have no idea what magnolias smell like (to be honest, my repertoire of flowers is super limited). The leaves smelled like artificial grape flavoring and dried apricot. I liked it a lot, and could definitely smell that it was a phoenix oolong.

First Steep: I started with a quick rinse. The liquor was light and left me skeptical. I tasted the rinse, just because I wanted to, and I was struck by how thin it was. After the rinse, I brewed the tea for about 1 minute. The wet leaf smelled like cranberry wensleydale cheese and was a lot brighter than the dry leaf. It smelled like my hair product (Kinky Curly Knot Today, which contains things like marshmallow root, slippery elm, mango fruit extract and some fragrance). The tea liquor was a super pale yellow.

When I tasted the tea, I was unimpressed. I didn’t find the tea pleasant at all. It tasted like what I imagine furniture polish must taste like, with a strong baking soda after taste. I could taste notes similar to what I detect in certain tieguanyin (iron goddess) teas. It was very “green” in flavor, but not green enough to be classified a green tea.

Second Steep: I meant to add just 15 seconds to the brew, but I wound up adding 30 seconds. This time, the tea liquor was a little furry and was more the color of pale urine. It had more yellow in it than the previous brew. The flavor had not changed all that much. It was very light and I actually started to suspect my water. The flavor of the water came through more than the flavor of the tea.

yulan xiang tea liquor

I felt bad because I received these samples for free and I really wanted to like them but they weren’t doing anything for me. I figure that perhaps I just don’t like dancong’s that much. Maybe I can’t enjoy the complex flavors. Later brews were more pleasant than the first two brews, and stronger brews were definitely better.

Yulan Xiang was so thin it felt like water, despite the fuzziness. There was also a bit of astringency but not so much that the tea wasn’t refreshing. I guess you could compare the feeling of drinking Yulan Xiang to drinking fresh spring water. I’m drawn to oolongs because of their variety, and I’d love to be able to enjoy something more delicate than my typical cliff tea. One of these day’s I’ll get it, I’m sure. 🙂

Actually, I still had about 3.5 grams of Yulan Xiang left, so I brewed it just before writing this post. The larger amount of leaf definitely solved the thinness problem, and the liquor was darker, but my other observations remained pretty much the same. The second time around, however, I found myself better able to enjoy the tea. Perhaps it really is just a matter of getting your taste buds accustomed to the flavor.

Despite feeling tepid towards the tea itself, I loved the look of the wet leaves. They totally transformed and were unrecognizable from the shriveled dark leaves I started with. The wet leaves are bright green with some orange-red and brown-red leaves mixed in. They glisten in the relatively clear tea liquor. If anything, this tea is fun to take photos of.

Here’s the first tea I tried from Wudong Teas. My impression was not as positive as this one. Would I recommend Yulan Xiang? If you like dancong then yes, this is probably really good. If you’re on the fence about it, perhaps you should stick to more popular and readily available varietals. While some teas can be over hyped, there’s usually a reason one or two teas become more popular than the rest.

yulan xiang in filled gaiwan

Bitter Leaf Teas: Black Beauty (2009 Menghai Ripe Puer)

Tea: The company lists Black Beauty as a Gong Ting (imperial) ripe puer (宫廷熟普洱). There is no information as to whether the trees are young or old, but given the price, I suspect the trees are fairly young. The tea had been aged about 10 years by the time I tasted it. There is no other information about the tea on the website.

Company: Bitter Leaf Teas

Price per gram: 18 cents per gram ($4.50 for a 25g sample).

Brewing Method: I followed the brewing instructions on the package. I used 3.3 grams in a 100 milliliter gaiwan and brewed the tea at about 95 degrees Celsius for 3 seconds. I added 3 – 5 seconds for each infusion after that. The flash brewing got a bit tedious, but Bitter Leaf must have had a reason for including those instructions, so I intended to humor them. A small leaf brews faster than a long leaf, and it tends to get bitter. Bitter Leaf tried to save me.

bitter leaf black beauty leaves

Appearance of the Leaf: The leaf was surprisingly small. I’m used to very long, elegant leaves so seeing the small pieces was a little off putting. Black Beauty appeared to be made from leaf pieces rather than full leaves. Seeing as I know next to nothing about ripe puer (but I’m learning!) I figured the small leaves are probably okay.

Despite the size of the leaf, the colors were quite promising. Black Beauty’s leaves were about the color of milk chocolate, with some light caramel notes mixed in. I didn’t see any black leaves mixed in, rather, the leaves were all varying shades of brown. They looked like piles of various forest twigs.

The leaves smelled like dirt to me, if I’m being perfectly honest. I know that ripe puer is supposed to smell and taste like dried fruit and baked goods and even pudding depending on the type, but for some reason I just can’t smell or taste it. I’ve had only one good ripe puer before, and it was a random hole-in-the-wall shop product. I’ll never find it again. (T_T) I smelled a little bit of fudge on the leaves, but the dry leaves smelled like wet soil. After a quick rinse, the chocolaty notes got stronger, but so did the “soil” smell. The wet leaf smelled more palatable.

First Steep

Black Beauty’s liquor was gorgeous. It was a deep brown-red color, something like mahogany. I’ve had red teas (also called black teas) that were a similar color. The liquor simply smelled humid. The flavor was not nearly as bad as the smell. I still tasted the dirt notes, but Black Beauty was incredibly smooth. Still, I don’t think I could call it tasty. It tasted like wood and dirt and furniture polish. I emptied the tea into my tray.

Second Steep

The second steep was less abrasive. It was shocking. I like the smoothness of the tea, if not the flavor. The smoothness might get me into ripe puer, but ripe puer still feels like a grandpa tea to me. The session ended quickly.

bitter leaf black beauty liquor

I really want to understand why people like ripe puer. Of course, I know that not everyone will like everything, but I feel there must be something I’m missing. I won’t give up on it until I’ve thoroughly explored it, but for now I’m going to keep saying that I don’t really like ripe puer.

Here’s an older installment of my ripe puer adventures. I loved the company but not the tea: Teasenz Chocobar Puer

Wudong Tea: “Dawuye” （大乌叶）

Tea: Dawuye is a a type of fenghuang dancong. In other words, it is a single tree phoenix oolong.

Company: Wudong Tea

Brewing Method: I debated whether to brew the tea Dawuye in Guangdong style (lots of leaf, with a long steep time) or Wuyi Style (lots of leaf, with unusually short brewing times). I ultimately decided to go with Guangdong style because I wanted to push this tea to the edge.

Dawuye’s leaves were beautiful. They were long, dark and twisted. They were mostly dark green with a few flecks of grass and hay-yellow leaves mixed in. The leaves reminded me of a higher grade Shou Mei (white tea). Before I heated the gaiwan, the leaves smelled like smoked dried plums or waxberry or similar dried fruit. After I heated the gaiwan, the leaves smelled green. I’d compare it to Fukamushi tea of Biluochun. Overall, the leaves smelled grassy and vegetal, a little like asparagus, but not overwhelmingly so. You could also compare the smell to cooked cabbage.

First Steep

For the first brew I steeped the tea for a full minute. Interestingly, the wet leaves smelled like macaroni and cheese and the leaves were even more gorgeous than before. The greens were glistening; they really popped. Dawuye’s tea liquor was very, very golden. Once again, it reminded me of the vibrancy of Japanese green tea. You could also compare the color to certain sheng (raw) puers. The liquor was surprisingly cloudy. There were a lot of particles and dust, even though I used a filter. I’m not sure whether the dust came from the shipping or whether it’s a feature of the tea, but if it’s a flaw I doubt it was the farmer’s fault.The leaves I received were, for the most part, quite long and unbroken.

Despite the beautiful leaves, the vibrant liquor and decent aroma, my first sip of the tea was unpleasant. It tasted like a bad Tieguanyin (Iron Goddess). The tea was extremely bitter with an after taste of baking soda. Though I like the flavor of baking soda, this particular tasting note offended me. I was unhappy drinking the tea, but I decided to take another sip. When I aerated the Dawuye liquor (by slurping it) and breathing out of my nose, I could sense a hint of a floral note, but it was unclear what that flower was. I eventually just poured the tea out. The empty fairness pitcher smelled exactly like the floral note I detected while drinking the tea. It faintly reminded me of Milan Xiang (Honey Orchid).

Second Steep

For the second brew, I decided to steep for 30 seconds. The liquor remained cloudy. I read somewhere on the internet that you can’t really start to fully appreciate phoenix oolong teas until the third steep, so I wasn’t about to give up so soon. I hoped the second steep would be better than the first.

With the second brew, the initial bitterness had gone away. Because I changed the steeping parameters (I shortened the time, and the water had cooled down a bit), I’m guessing the milder flavor was a result of the combination of changes, rather than a result of a single change. After this experience, I would not recommend brewing tea Guangdong style. I’d suggest reducing the amount of tea or increasing the amount of water. I have gaiwans that are around 120 or 150 milliliters, which would be better for 8 grams of dancong. The brew had a medium mouthfeel. It wasn’t thin like water, but it wasn’t something you could chew on; Dawuye’s liquor was slightly viscous. I also detected a dry finishing note, which I enjoyed.

The baking soda (sodium bicarbonate) flavor was still present. I guess that particular tasting note might have to do with the minerality of the tea and my water. For health reasons, I must use bottled water when in China, but I try to use water that still has some of the naturally occurring minerals in it. I use the same water for all of my tea.

The huigan (aftertaste) was highly floral. The vegetal notes were still present, but the floral aroma was the most prominent feature of this brew. Wudong Tea’s Dawuye was not bad; I just don’t think it was my style.

Third Steep

I added ten seconds to this and subsequent brews, which means the third steep was about 40 seconds long. The showed no signs of letting up; it was certainly a tea that I could brew for a long time if I chose to. It was stubbornly dark. On the third brew the bitterness calmed down even more while the dryness ticked up. The floral-ness became more apparent in the initial taste, but it still mostly lived in the aftertaste. Aerating the tea did almost nothing for the flavor, which is strange for a phoenix oolong. While I was slurping, I actually tasted more astringency in the back of my mouth.The tea tasted like bitter medicinal herbs. I could only describe the tea as ku (bitter).

Subsequent Steeps

The fourth and fifth brews of the tea were better than the first three, but I stopped drinking because I wasn’t enjoying it. I’m grateful for the samples Wudong Tea (Chaozhou Tea Grower) sent me but I had to give up on it. I’m excited to try the other samples they sent. Perhaps I’ll find something I like.

How Much Tea Do I Own? (Feb 2018 + January Tea Haul)

I generally try to be frugal, but in the spirit of ~research~ and for the sake of the blog, I’ve become somewhat of a compulsive tea purchaser. When I went to Shanghai at the end of January, I wound up buying much more than I intended.

I used to think I was getting good prices from Baobao, the woman I usually go to at Laoximen Tea City, but now I’m not so sure. Per quantity, her prices are much higher than a place like Teasenz, but I haven’t compared her tea side by side with the others so I can’t speak on quality. She claims her tea is amazing quality but I have yet to be blown away by what she has to offer. Still, her price-to-quality ratio is better than the other tea sellers I’ve found. I’ve already bargained the price down, but I also understand the lady has costs to cover and she lets me taste a lot of different things so I guess that’s okay.

During this trip I got:

Rou Gui at 80 RMB (~13 USD) for 50 grams
Gaoshan Xiaozhong at 60 RMB (~10 USD) for 60 grams
Dian Hong at 20 RMB (~3 USD)
Tie Guan Yin at 10 RMB (~1.50 USD).

I get the feeling that my lady was just trying to get rid of some of that tea, haha.

Jan 2018 Tea Haul Image — My January purchases. First row (from left): Tieguanyin, Rou Gui, Dian Hong
Bottom row: chinese dates, goji berries, barley, Milan Xiang, Tian Cha

After I finished chatting with Baobao, I went upstairs to a guy who sells better tea, although it’s much more expensive. I got Milan Xiang (Honey Orchid) at 100 RMB (~16 USD) for 50g. Originally he said the Milan Xiang was 200 RMB but he was about to leave for a holiday dinner and gave it to me for half price. He also gave me something called “Tian Cha” and I have no idea what to make of it. It smells terrible and looks like little pellets so I’m a little afraid to try it.

When I returned to my apartment in Jiangxi Province, I noticed my tea drawer was full, so I decided to take inventory. I’m actually somewhat ashamed by how much tea I have; I think I need to take a break from buying for a while. This list doesn’t even include the teas I left in my parents’ house, haha. I’d still like to visit the tea mountains, but perhaps I should wait until I have a proper stream of disposable income.

tea drawer picture — My very shameful tea drawer. Yes, I know this is not the proper way to store tea, but the packaging is good enough that this works in the short term.

Here’s what I found in the drawer (with links to posts, if I have one):

A Tie Guan Yin (Iron Goddess) gift
Gushu (Ancient Tree) Red Tea
Naturalia Gunpowder Green
Maojian (a type of green tea)
Fukamushi Cha (a Japanese green tea)
“High Quality” Green tea (it doesn’t even have a name. I tried hard to find it)
Two different grades of Da Hong Pao (Big Red Robe)
Rooibos
Ripe Pu’er Cake (I didn’t look at the details, I just saw it peaking out of its storage place)
Raw Pu’er Cake
Teasenz Chocobar Pu’er

There are also some dried herbs in the drawer:

Rose buds
Goji berries
Chinese dates
Mint leaves
Barley

I also bought the dates, berries, and barley in Shanghai, but I don’t remember what I paid for them because I got them for cooking rather than casual drinking.

I have about five months to get through all of these because I don’t want to carry them in my luggage when I visit my parents over the summer. didn’t look at the quantities, and some of these teas are only sample-sized packages, so it should be doable. I’ll try to document the flavors as I go. I might even do a blend or two to break up the monotony, haha.

Tea W/ Friends: My First Proper Japanese Green Tea ~Experience~

image of Sarabi reading with tea — N stepped out for a second, I picked up a copy of the Qur’an from his bookshelf, N came back and took this photo. He’s a photography wizard.

On Halloweekend, I took a trip to Shanghai.

Shanghai is 3 – 6 hours away by train and I had to work around my Friday afternoon and Monday morning classes, but I was willing to make the effort because some of my closest friends from uni live there. Besides, I’m a sucker for poetry (especially Halloween-themed poetry readings).

On that Saturday, just after meeting several groups of friends and a few hours before the event, I sat with N to drink tea. I’ve already told you some of my tea story, but let me introduce you to N.

One of his parents is Central European and the other is Japanese (I specified because this detail is important). He’s rooted in both cultures and speaks both of his parents’ mother tongues, but he’s also a self-described “citizen of the world.” I can imagine some of your rolling your eyes. Our school’s motto was “make the world your major” because half of the graduates come from outside of China and are required to spend at least 2.5 years at the Shanghai campus and at least half a year at one of the other campuses. By now he’s traveled to more countries than I can count, and speaks almost as many languages to varying degrees of fluency.

During our third year in uni, he studied at NYU’s Abu Dhabi campus and joined a tea club. It was there that his appreciation for tea blossomed. He learned to discuss the flavors and fragrances of the tea he tried, and learned to generally tell teas apart. During our fourth year, he returned to the Shanghai campus and joined the tea club M and I started (I’m not sure if I introduced M before, perhaps you’ll “meet” her someday).

Now that we’ve both graduated, we don’t have as many people to discuss tea with. M and the person who headed NYU AD’s tea club are back in the US, D is in the Huangshan area and I’m in Jiangxi Province. Meeting N to talk tea was high on my Shanghai to-do list.

N had already laid out his tea table by the time I arrived. We tried some new tea he’d recently purchased from Laoximen Tea City, and I let him try some of my Teasenz samples. We even compared the tea I brought with some of his. His Phoenix Oolong beat mine, but my Da Hong Pao was much more complex than his. His Phoenix came with a sample, which nearly made us puke in the process of trying. We had no idea tea could be so bad. I’m a glutton for punishment though, because the experience didn’t stop be from trying other tea samples.

After a while, he started showing me some of his Japanese tea and teaware.

I have a passing familiarity with Matcha and with some of the processing differences between Japanese and Chinese green teas. Japanese tea tends to be fresher and it undergoes less processing, but I really couldn’t talk at length about it.

N pulled out some Fukamushi Cha (深蒸茶/Shen Zheng Cha in Chinese, I can’t type in Japanese) which translates roughly to “deep steamed tea.” After being harvested, the tea is steamed a couple times then dried and preserved in vacuum-sealed packaging. The tea oxidizes so quickly that it needs to be stored in the refrigerator after the package has been opened and should be finished within a year or so of the harvest date. I imagine the tea lasts longer if it’s kept in a cold, dark, dry, airless environment, but it’s pretty difficult to satisfy all of those criteria. I was mind-blown at the prospect of refrigerating tea in the first place (who does that??).

Once N had explained the basics to me, it was time to taste the tea. He poured out about 4 grams onto the scale. The leaves were a deep, magnificent green with a few flecks of lighter green here and there.

Fukamushi tea needs to be brewed for about a minute and a half with 70-80 degree water. He slid the leaves into his Japanese teapot (kyusu) and we chatted for a bit while we waited for the water to cool down. We mused over the fact that were were blending Chinese and Japanese teaware while drinking a Japanese tea in China and speaking English.

Finally, after we very scientifically tested the temperature of the water by passing our hands over the steam, N poured filled the teapot and let it brew. He then introduced me to the Japanese style of brewing tea, which omits the fairness pitcher step. Instead, the server pours tea in a sweeping motion over all the cups so that each cup is filled with tea from the beginning, middle and end of the pour. Since the teapot was larger than the capacity of our two cups, though, we poured the excess into a fairness pitcher to prevent the tea from over-brewing.

I took a sip and was astonished by the flavor. The Fukamushi tea was salty, but not so much so that it was unpleasant. It tasted a little bit like seaweed and was quite smooth. There was something satisfying about the flavor. It tasted a bit like fresh miso soup. I guess that’s the “umami” flavor I often hear people mention when they discuss Japanese tea. The flavor lasted for at least 7 brews. After that I stopped counting.

The tea liquor color was somewhere between mustard yellow and green. It was much brighter than I’d seen any green tea liquor before and was almost syrupy thick.

For a while, I ignored the taste and relished the feeling of the tea in my mouth. I know I’ve said this before but I’ll say it again: I love thick teas. I like when my mouth feels full of not only the flavor, but also the substance. N told me that the pot one brews the tea in while affect the mouth feel. Those that have larger strainer holes will filter less leaf debris and create a thicker tea. Those with smaller holes will filter more and produce a thinner tea. Ideally, one’s teapot should be somewhere in the middle. You don’t want too many leaves because they get in the way of the tea liquor, but you don’t want so few that your tea feels empty.

All in all, I was so impressed with the tea I ordered some for myself (Taobao is a wonderful place). N sent me the link to his seller, so I’m going to try the tea on my own and see if the quality is consistent. Even though I don’t really plan on getting too deep into Japanese tea (I still have so much to learn about Chinese tea!), I can definitely see myself adding it to my list of regulars.

A year and a half ago I would have told you that I’m not a fan green tea, but M opened my mind to it, living in Jiangxi sealed my preference for it as a casual daily tea, and N has literally broadened my horizons. I suppose that’s what friends are for. ❤

Raw Pu’er Tasting: Tobacco-Smoked Sausage

You may have noticed that I’ve been posting every day this week. To those of you who receive each new post notification as an email, I apologize for the spam. I don’t plan on becoming a daily blog. Rather, I’m just catching up and proving to the world that I am, in fact, alive. I disappeared for health reasons, but *hopefully* I’m all better now.

Let me preface this tea tasting post by saying that Taobao (a Chinese shopping website) is extremely dangerous, especially on 11/11. Single’s Day (11/11) is more or less equivalent to the US’s Black Friday. Online sellers will dramatically reduce the price of their products and offer massive discounts for bulk orders. I was raised by an extremely frugal mother so I don’t fall prey to sales, however, there were things I was planning to buy anyway, so I waited until Single’s Day to purchase them.

As you know from my Chocolate Bar Pu’er post, I’m searching for a ripe pu’er that pleases my pallet. In the meantime, I like to bathe my tongue in cliff tea and raw pu’er. I typically drink young raw pu’er because it’s sweet and gentle yet complex, but if I see an aged raw pu’er I usually give it a try (if you’re confused about this whole ripe vs. raw vs. aged thing, don’t worry, a pu’er tea guide is on it’s way).

While I was scrolling through tea sellers on Taobao, I happened to notice a pu’er on sale for 34 RMB (the original price was 50 RMB). That’s roughly 5 US Dollars. Every instinct in my body told me not to buy it, but curiosity got the best of me. I added it to my cart, ordered my stuff and waited.

When the tea arrived, I was surprised and dismayed by how small the cake was. The cake was thin and weighed about 100 grams. Pu’er cakes usually don’t come in sizes smaller than 250 grams. At only $5 it wasn’t a bad deal, I just expected more. The seller did give me a sample of another tea though.

Since the sample and the cake were from presumably the same tea plantation, I decided to try them side-by-side. There was virtually no identifying information on the sample (sketchy, I know). It simply said “2013 ancient tree.” The pu’er cake, however, was a 2015 ancient tree raw pu’er from Bingdao. The cake is still aged tea, but it’s much younger than the sample.

I used my newly-acquired tea table as my setup. I don’t have two gaiwans that are the same size in my current appartment, so I used roughly the same amount of tea and water in each one. The blue and white gaiwan is larger so it wasn’t completely full, but that doesn’t really affect the tea. The first thing I noticed about the dry leaves of the pu’er cake was how beautiful they were. There were light green, dark green, and white furry leaves. I thought that was a good sign but I couldn’t tell much because the cake was so tightly compressed I had a heard time getting leaves without shattering them. The 2013 pu’er leaves were similarly colored, but they were long and unbroken.

2013, 2015 raw pu'er dry leaves — I’m wearing gloves to spare you from looking at my ugly fingernails.

As per usual, I warmed the gaiwans using 90 degree water, then placed the leaves inside. Both sets of dry leaves smelled of tobacco and mysterious wood with hints of jasmine. The pale yellow-brown tea liquor also smelled strongly of tobacco, and had a small amount of hair in it. I live for tea fur; it thickens the overall mouth feel of the tea and adds another dimension to the experience.

The color of the wet leaves was unsurprising. They looked like cooked collard greens. Though I expected the change, the color was absolutely beautiful. If I could find paint pigment in that color, it’s probably one of the only colors I’d use.

The similarities between the two ceased when I finally tasted the tea. The 2013 tea had a comfortable medium mouth feel, but it tasted like fresh tobacco (I’m imagining that’s what tobacco tastes like, anyway). I gagged as soon as I took a sip. The 2015 tea, by contrast, was much more mellow. There was no bitter aftertaste, but the mouth feel was also much thinner.

On the second brew, the 2013 tea liquor was much darker. It seemed that the exposed surface area of the 2013 leaves led to a stronger brew. The second brew is when I decided the 2013 tea tasted like cooked sausages. I was confused. The tea felt so good in my mouth that I wanted to keep it there for ever, but it tasted so bad I wanted to spit it out. I eventually stopped brewing the 2013 tea after three rounds, and I emptied the fairness pitcher so I wouldn’t have to smell it.

2013 raw pu'er leaves in water — The 2013 tea leaves may have tasted awful, but they look so good.

I focused my attention on the 2015 tea, which danced new choreography on my tongue with each subsequent brew, yet it remained somewhat shy. The flavor was mild, but I slowly began to taste other things. I couldn’t quite parse out what those flavors were though. When I sniffed the 2015 leaves after I was done tasting them, they smelled like orchids, which I found fitting because this was the first time I was using my orchid tea table. Life is funny that way, I guess.

This tea tasting reminded me of what I already knew: be very wary of Taobao seller samples.

A friend of mine also ordered tea online, and when we tasted the sample we both immediately spit the tea out and stopped drinking it. In my experience, Taobao samples are either terrible (so they can’t get rid of it unless they give it away) or expensive (they want to get you hooked on the tea so you buy the more expensive leaves). I guess you could consider the better, more expensive tea a win, but that’s not usually what I’m looking for when I get something on Taobao. I want something passable, something I can use as a daily tea so I can save my nice tea for guests and special treats. Even though I know tasting samples usually turns out terrible, I also know that I’ll still try the next sample that comes my way. After all, what’s life without a little danger?

Cloak your Tongue in Awesome Flavor (Teasenz 大红袍)

It’s been a minute since I’ve done a tea post, or at least that’s what it feels like to me.

I drafted most of my September posts back in August, so I haven’t written anything new in nearly a month (I wanted to focus on my new job). As you can probably tell, the last few posts have been going online at super random times; that’s because I’m posting them almost immediately after I finish writing.

Ideally, my articles will come out at regular times and dates. I’ve already made the list for October, so they should be coming out soon.

When I looked in my tea drawer (my beside tables contains nothing but tea), I realized I haven’t tasted Teasenz’s Da Hong Pao （大红袍, Big Red Robe） yet. I wanted to save it so I could compare it to other Da Hong Pao teas sold in my area, since I’m now living quite close to Wuyi Mountain.

I’m so in love with Teasenz’s Da Hong Pao. I’m tempted to order more tea from the company because it’s such high quality. It doesn’t make much sense to order tea, since I live closer to the tea mountains than to the Teasenz company, but I definitely recommend Teasenz to people looking for a company that does international shipping. With a $5 flat-rate fee, they’re hard to beat. I think I’ll order more Pu’er from them, since Yunnan is quite far from me.

Now on to the actual tea~

Brewing notes: I used 5 grams in a standard gaiwan to taste the tea, but I prefer a stronger flavor. Next time I’ll use 7 grams. I heated the water to about 95C. I didn’t wind up buying a variable temperature kettle because I was too impatient to wait for an online shipment to arrive. I like the idea of learning to listen to the bubble to determine the temperature of the water anyway.

When I was at home I used the tap water because Virginia tap water is safe to drink, but here the tap water is questionable at best, even when boiled. My apartment is relatively new so the water may be safe to drink, but I’ve been using bottled water just in case. Bottled water results in a slightly flatter taste because bottled water usually lacks the minerals found in tap water. I might start buying fancy mineral water, but that’s not financially feasible at the moment.

Da Hong Pao’s dry leaves were long, dark and twisted. They were mostly black with smudges of read throughout. As usual, there were very few broken leaves in the package. The leaves smelled like fudge, candied apples and smoked plums. They smelled like a perfume I’d love to wear.

Because I trust the quality of the tea, I skipped the rinse step and immediately brewed the tea for 45 seconds. The color of the liquor was a brilliant honey topaz color, firmly between yellow and orange on the color spectrum. It smelled like toilet water, but I’m willing to ignore that because it tasted a lot like Mei Leaf’s Bei Dou. The aftertaste was strong and fruity.

After the first brew I realized I wanted a stronger flavor, so I added a minute to the brewing time. That means the second brew lasted almost two minutes. The leaves opened up and formed a wet mass in the gaiwan. I wasn’t expecting them to grow so large. They started to smell like blue raspberry Jolly Ranchers and cotton candy.

The tea liquor became a deeper orange, but it retained its topaz characteristics. The flavor transformed into that of high-quality coffee, but without the bitterness. Almost none of the fragrance of the leaves transferred to the taste, but aerating the tea really allowed the taste to morph in your mouth. Air introduces the candy flavors.

The third brew is really when the flavor kicked in. I started tasting citrus and grapes and chocolate and general deliciousness. I was torn between holding the tea in my mouth and aerating it more, because both experiences were so enjoyable. I decided to alternate: one sip I’d hold the tea and on the next I’d aerate it in my mouth.

This pattern continued until the brews finally lost their flavor. I lost track of how many brews I did, but the water needed reheating before the tea lost its flavor. I’m pretty sure that means I got about 8 brews out of the tea.

Da Hong Pao is notorious for it’s price. Some tea connoisseurs refer to it as liquid gold. While I’ve seen varieties of Da Hong Pao in supermarkets and pharmacies in China (seriously, tea is not that big of a deal here), I’ve also seen varieties prices at over $100 for 100 grams (3.5 ounces).

Teasenz tea is on the lower end of the price scale, but that doesn’t mean you’re getting lower quality tea. 50 grams (1.75oz) or Da Hong Pao costs about $10, and they have a sample size (15g/0.5oz) for less than $3. It’s also worth mentioning that Teasenz accepts a variety of currencies, including Thai Baht, Czech Koruna, and Russian Ruble. I don’t think I have any readers from those regions yet, but I just thought I’d put it out there.

I believe I have one more Teasenz review to write (I need to double check that) but it’s probably going to be a positive review. The value for your money is truly amazing. I discovered a mystery tea in my drawer, so I think I’ll taste that one next. In my opinion, a happy tongue is a happy life.