I’ve already written a couple of posts for people who’d like to learn Mandarin so I’ll link those below. This post is just a basic guide to help people better pronounce the names of the teas I write about.
The pronunciation system in Mandarin is called pinyin. The word pinyin is actually an amalgamation of the words for “spell” and “sound.” To help Mandarin learners better visualize the sounds combinations, educators have created a pinyin chart.
A typical pinyin chart
The Pinyin Chart is organized based on where in the mouth the sound is produced. For example, ‘b’,’p’,’m’ and ‘f’ all rely on movement of the lips while ‘d’,’t’,’n’,’l’ are all produced by cupping the tongue against the roof of the mouth (the hard palate).
The areas of the mouth we use to produce vowels and consonants. Source: duolingo
Looking at the chart itself is not very helpful, but once you’ve learned the basic rules of pronunciation, it helps to look at the chart and practice the different sounds combinations. Some of the phonemes are very rare. There are a couple on the chart that I’ve never used before. For people who are learning to type Mandarin, pinyin is helpful because these letter combinations will bring up the characters you want to type. For instance, typing “da” will bring up 大 (big). This chart does not take tones into account (there are four main tones in Mandarin) but this post is not intended to be a crash course in Mandarin; I’m writing it to help people with an interest in tea speak knowledgeable about what they’re drinking.
Yabla Chinese, one of my favorite online Chinese dictionaries, has a free resource that allows people to listen to the pinyin chart.
Mandarin speakers don’t move their lips very much. Instead, most of the sound comes from moving the tongue and changing the space within their mouths. A few of the sounds do not exist in English, and one must be careful when pronouncing them. The ‘q’ sound is similar to “ch” in English, but instead of laying the tongue flat against the roof of the mouth, one should curve the tongue and make a little space behind the teeth. ‘J’, ‘q’ and ‘x’ all use similar tongue placement. ‘Zh’, ‘ch’ and ‘sh’ all for a flattening of the tongue and mouth. ‘Z’, ‘c’ and ‘s’ are produced by flattening the tongue and mouth while creating a little space with the tongue behind the teeth.
One way to make sure you are pronouncing the words correctly is to abandon everything you know about English or your native language. Though there may be some similarities, it’s better to start from scratch and really listen to the vowel and consonant sounds. The Yabla pinyin chart should help. I’ve embedded a video below that demonstrates the pronunciation of a few tricky syllables.
I don’t really have a magic formula for learning a new language system. All I can say it practice makes perfect. 😀
Tea is such a weird thing. Even just one type of tea has several subcategories and varieties. Besides pu’er, I think oolong is the most varied type of tea. Oolong tea has three subcategories: phoenix, cliff/rock, and tieguanyin/Iron Goddess. Of the three I prefer cliff teas, and I have equal preference for phoenix oolongs and Iron Goddess teas, though I really only like traditional-style Iron Goddess (the new-age stuff just doesn’t taste as good to me).
One of the teas Teasenz sent me was a phoenix oolong (凤凰单枞/fenghuang dancong). These days, most sellers in the west refer to all phoenix oolongs as simply “phoenix” or “dancong” which is frustrating because while “dancong” literally means something to the effect of “single tree/fir,” these days dancongs have just as much variety as other types of tea. There’s 蜜兰香/Milan Xiang (Honey Orchid) and 鸭屎香/Yashi Xiang (Duck Sh*t, it doesn’t taste like that I promise). There are probably others I haven’t heard of, but I’m not a huge dancong drinker so I have a lot of exploration left to do.
The tea I got from Teasenz was also labeled “Dan Cong.” I looked on the website to try to figure out which dancong it was, but I didn’t find any information. Teasenz does offer a dancong sampler with five different dancongs though, so I might try that out some day.
In Greek mythology, phoenixes are flying bird-like creatures that die in a plume of flames and are born again from the ashes of their predecessor. The volatile compounds of phoenix oolongs react with oxygen to create vivid and rapidly changing flavors and aromas. Taking in air by slurping the tea gives rise to a new flavor profile.
To brew Teasenz’s Dan Cong, I used 4 grams of tea and 100 degree water. I’m hoping to get a variable temperature electric kettle in the future, so I can control one more aspect of tea tasting. Dan Cong’s leaves were black, thin and slightly twisted. There were splashes of green mixed into the sea of black. The dry leaves smelled strongly of ripe nectarines with the slight pungency of mild cheddar cheese. I wouldn’t say the pungent odor was cheesy per se, but cheese is the closes approximation I can come up with. When I wet the leaf, they turned bright green and I smelled wilting roses.
Dan Cong Dry LeavesDan Cong Tea Liquor
The first brew of Dan Cong was a very clear yellow-white. It looked a bit like white wine and had a medium-thin mouth feel. For some reason, this Dan Cong tasted a bit like traditional Tieguanyin mixed with wet grass. Dan Cong’s aftertaste was surprisingly woody, though now that I think about it perhaps saw dust is a more accurate descriptor. The tea tasted like I was chewing on a mouthful of sunflower seeds with the shells on.
In the end though, I was disappointed by how one-note the tea was. Usually dancongs are vibrant and interesting. They usually smell and taste like fruits and flowers, and change just as you start to think you’re getting to know the tea. Even when I slurped this Dan Cong, the flavor remained the same. I did enjoy the lightness of the tea though. It was quite sweet, which is to be expected of dancong oolongs, but this one was extra sweet. Besides the sweetness, however, Teasenz’s Dan Cong was rather bland.
If you’re willing to try this Dan Cong, you can find it on their website.
I’ve been drinking tea since before I went to kindergarten, so I can’t remember the first tea I ever tried, but I do remember the tea that converted me to a full-time loose leaf tea drinker: unsmoked Lapsang Souchong (正山小种, zhengshan xiaozhong). Looking back, the tea itself wasn’t that spectacular but I was cold and curious, and it was the perfect thing for the moment. That was almost 4 years ago.
Dry Mystery Dian Hong leaves. Note the thick leaves and the fuzz on the sides of the gaiwan.
Fast forward to last year when I tasted the Dian Hong (滇红) that changed my life. I’d been experimenting with herbal teas and other tea blends up until that point, but I hadn’t really looked into pure Chinese teas. Though I frequently discussed tea with my mentors at the Tianshan Tea Market and the Laoximen Tea Market, I stuck to my tried-and-true unsmoked Lapsang, Jasmine blends, and flower teas.
I have never forgotten the Dian Hong I tasted that day. Because it was served to me by someone else, I don’t know where it came from, when it was produced, or who sold it.
It seems that I have once again found a mind-blowing Dian Hong, and once again I have almost no idea where it came from.
Just before a school holiday in the autumn of 2016, one of my classmates told me he was taking a trip to Yunnan Province (云南省). He knew I loved tea, and also knew Yunnan is a major tea producing area. He left he asked me if I’d like anything. I told him to pick up some Dian Hong if he saw any, but to otherwise not worry about it. I didn’t want him to go around searching for tea during his vacation.
When he came back he presented me with 50 grams of beautiful Dian Hong. I offered to pay him back and he waved me away saying it didn’t cost that much (some people may consider this rude, but that’s just the level of honesty we have with each other. Besides, he was probably being modest). This Dian Hong instantly reminded me of the rainbow of flavors I tasted just months before. It seems I had found my new favorite red tea.
I like the tea so much I stored it with my other prized teas, never to be seen again until this summer, when I decided to compare it to the Teasenz varieties of Dian Hong.
Dry leaves of Jin Jun Mei (Beautiful Golden Eyebrow). Note that the mix of black and gold leaves are very thinly twisted. Image Source: Teapedia
Based on the color and shape on the leaf, the Dian Hong my friend gave me appears to be a Dian Hong Gongfu Cha (滇红功夫茶) which is a sort of middle grade Dian Hong. At some point I mislabeled the tea as a general Zhengshan because Dian Hong is similar to Beautiful Golden Eyebrow (金俊眉， Jin Jun Mei). Jin Jun Mei’s leaves are thinner though, and the taste of a Dian Hong is absolutely unmistakable. Dian Hong’s leaves also tend to leave behind a little bit of fur on my utensils. The fur looks something like Chinese meat floss.
Dian Hong Gongfu is actually only about a step below Yunnan Pure Gold, and commonly goes by the English name Yunnan Gold (confusing, I know). To me, it feels like a mix between a lower-grade pure black leaf Dian Hong and the superior grade pure golden leaf Dian Hong. The combination results in a balanced brew with both the vibrancy of Yunnan Pure Gold and the comfort heat of cheap Dian Hong. While I appreciate the delicacy of high-grade Dian Hong, low-grade Dian Hong sits better on my tongue, and is definitely my drink of choice.
When brewing this tea, I use 5 grams of tea and ~95 degree water. The dry leaves smelled like maple syrup and cream soda. I brew the first infusion about 30 seconds, then increase the time by about 5 or 10 seconds for subsequent brews. This tea’s wet leaves smelled like Earl Grey with hints of coffee with cream. I read somewhere that there’s this weird 40-60-40-50-60 second brewing scheme for red tea. To be honest, that variation seems totally unnecessary but who knows, perhaps it truly does make better tea. I might try it some day, but for now I have a system that works.
The first brew of Dian Hong Gongfu was extremely frothy and was a bright red-orange. It felt and tasted like molasses but still retained that characteristic flavor note that black tea has; I can’t describe it. There’s an underlying zest that fully oxidized tea carries. The aftertaste was crazy intense and continued to morph as I chewed on the flavor. As usual, this Dian Hong is slightly salty but isn’t bitter.
The way the tea settles on the tongue is astonishingly satisfying.
Dian Hong tea liquor
Each infusion of Dian Hong Gongfu becomes progressively redder than the previous brew. It seems that the redder the tea gets, the saltier it gets. I still have not figured out whether the saltiness comes from my water (it’s possible the saltiness comes from the minerals in the water reacting with the tea) or from the tea itself. I’m willing to overlook the saltiness with Dian Hong though, because it is my tea equivalent of chicken noodle soup.
I wish I could tell you where to buy this tea. The best I can do is recommend you get your Dian Hong from sellers who source their tea in Yunnan. I’d be pretty wary of Dian Hong produced in other regions.
If you’re looking for more Dian Hong reviews, you can read my review of Teasenz’s Yunnan Gold.
As you can tell, I’m quite fond of Dian Hong. Please forgive me if I keep writing rambling posts about it. ;P
I’ve been talking about using the gongfu brewing method for the past couple of weeks, but it occurred to me that I haven’t really gone into the details yet. I tried to give some necessary information in the first post, but I decided it would be better to simply give my gongfu explanation to its own post.
I personally believe that gongfu brewing is the ultimate mindfulness exercise. For those who don’t know, mindfulness is the action or process of being present in the moment and becoming aware of something. Mindfulness can extend to the realm of emotions by helping people acknowledge and accept the way they feel, but it can also include acknowledging external phenomena.
In Mandarin, “gongfu” (功夫) simply means “skill” or “art.” In the U.S. (and in other western countries?) we usually say “kung fu.” There’s a reason Kung Fu is called a martial art.
When it comes to tea, I interpret gongfu to refer to the art of brewing. I use the full gongfu process to take notes and write posts about tea, but when I’m just drinking tea for myself, I use a simplified brewing process. The following are the steps of the gongfu brewing process, with the steps I use in the simplified process in italics. I explain each step below the main list. If you’re more of a visual learner, scroll down and watch the brewing video below.
Weigh out the tea leaves and observe their appearance
Heat the utensils
Observe the aroma of the dry leaves
Rinse the tea ware with the tea
Observe the aroma of the tea liquor
Observe the aroma of the wet leaf
Serve the tea
Observe the color of the tea liquor
Observe the flavor of the tea
Step One: Weighing out the tea leaves and observing their appearance
I bought a pocket-sized kitchen scale specifically for weighing tea, though just about anything that’ll weigh leaves will work. You need something that can weigh in increments of grams (or ounces if you prefer, but I find grams easier to deal with since Chinese tea literature tends to use the metric system).
The amount of tea you need depends on the size of your gaiwan, the type of tea, and your personal preference. I use 5-6 grams for red tea, 5-8 grams for oolong, 1-2 grams for ripe pu’er, 5 grams for ripe pu’er, and 5 grams for white tea. Green tea typically is not brewed using the gongfu method. I’ll explain more in a future post, but basically you allow green tea to steep in a manner similar to western brewing.
Once I have weighed out the leaves, I place them on a small saucer (usually the one that comes with my gaiwan) and inspect them. I note the shape and color of the leaves, and check for broken pieces. Too many broken leaves means the tea is at best poorly processed and at worst poor quality. Broken leaves typically lead to bitter brews. There are many shapes and colors to look for, depending on the type of tea. I’ll give more information on that when I write posts about each individual type of tea.
Step Two: Heat the utensils
Usually, I start boiling the water before I weigh the tea. Since I’m using the stove, the water is just reaching optimal temperature by the time I write my notes on the appearance of the tea leaves.
After the water reaches the correct temperature (more on that later, in the individual tea posts), I pour some into the gaiwan then pour the gaiwan water into the fairness pitcher and swirl it around. Once I’ve heated the fairness pitcher, I pour the water into however many cups I need, then empty the pitcher and all of the cups. Warming the utensils prevents the temperature of the tea from dropping too quickly once it has been brewed. Temperature changes affect the taste of the tea. Sometimes I use a clay teapot instead of a gaiwan, but only if I’m in a tea house or if I’m brewing for company.
Basic gongfu tea cups. They are also called “three sip cups” because they are small. Image Source: Wanling Tea HouseA typical gaiwan. They come in all colors and sizes.One type of fairness pitcher, or gongdao bei (公道杯). Image Source: Yunnan Sourcing
Step Three: Observe the aroma of the tea leaves
Besides keeping the temperature of the tea steady, heating the utensils also serves another purpose: it makes it easier to detect the aroma of the leaves.
To smell the tea, pour your leaves into the heated gaiwan (after you’ve poured the water out!), cover it, and give it a little shake. Carefully lift the lid and sniff the aroma that comes off of the lid. You can also sniff the bowl of the gaiwan directly, but exercise caution when doing this because the gaiwan is hot.
While it is certainly possible to simply stick your nose in the tea and sniff, the heat of a gaiwan “awakens” the volatile compounds in the tea that give off its flavor and aroma. Use your imagination when describing the smell of the tea, whether you’re making notes for yourself or talking to others. If you’ve read the tea reviews I’ve posted so far, you know I use descriptors such as, “it smells like setting berries on fire.” I’ve tasted teas that smell like warehouses, fireplaces, and milk coffee. Anything that has a scent can be used to describe tea. It’s a purely subjective observation.
Step Four:Rinse the tea ware with the tea
This step is the true beginning of the actual brewing process. To brew tea using a gaiwan, fill the gaiwan with water (the tea leaves should already be in it), cover it, wait a few seconds, then pour the brew into the fairness pitcher, using the lid as a preliminary strainer. Once you are finished pouring, you can either remove the gaiwan lid and put it off to the side or simply slide it so there is a gap between the bowl and the lid. You do not want to leave the gaiwan closed; leaving it closed essentially cooks the tea. It’s not uncommon for some leaves to slip out of the gaiwan, which is why some people put strainers over their fairness pitchers for cleaner pours.
Rinsing the tea ware is essentially repeating the process in step two (heating the utensils), this time pouring water over the tea leaves in the gaiwan and using that first brew instead of pure water. This process reheats the tea ware and makes it easier to detect the aroma of the tea liquor.
Step Five: Observe the aroma of the tea liquor
Some gongfu tea setups include aroma cups, which are smaller but taller than tea cups. After rinsing the tea ware with the tea, flip the aroma cup upside down into the tea cup. When you lift the aroma cup slightly and bring your nose to it, you should be able to smell the tea. I don’t own aroma cups. Instead, I just sniff the fairness pitcher. You can also try smelling the tea cup, but because they are so shallow, the scent escapes quickly. As with smelling the leaves, let your imagination run wild.
Step Six: Observe the aroma of the wet leaf
CAUTION: STEAM CAN BURN YOU. To smell the wet leaf, bring your nose to either the lid of the gaiwan or the bowl and take a whiff. Because steam will still be rising off of these objects, be very careful.
Step Seven: Serve the tea
This is the fun part, brew the tea as you did in step four, this time waiting a few seconds longer before pouring it into the fairness pitcher. Pour the tea from the fairness pitcher into the tea cups. Tradition suggests you should pour the tea from left to right, but this matters less in informal settings.
Step Eight: Observe the color of the tea liquor
This step is somewhat self-explanatory: use your eyes to determine the color of the brew!
Step Nine: Observe the flavor of the tea
Even though the cups are called three sip cups, you can take as many or as few sips as you like. I like using three sips when I first try a tea because I can assess different things on each sip. The first sip is for gauging the texture of the tea. Is it thick and syrupy or thin like water? I use the second sip to thing about the flavor. Does the flavor make me feel warm inside, or do I get chills? Does it taste more like grass or like roses? The third sip is for the after taste. If I hadn’t been slurping the tea on the first two sips, I definitely slurp on the third. Slurping aerates the tea which changes the flavor slightly, especially if you’re drinking a phoenix oolong. After the last sip, I close my mouth and “chew” on the flavor. At this stage, the after taste starts dancing in my mouth. Is the after taste bitter or salty? Is the tea drying? Do I detect something surprising?
I’ve had trouble converting some of my friends to loose leaf tea. They insist that tea is bitter, but they’ve only tasted cheap tea bag teas. There’s a huge flavor difference between bagged teas and loose leaf teas. If you must buy bagged tea, try to get one with a fuller leaf. Tea is varied and complex. I often taste more flavors than I have words to describe. That’s partly why I decided to start posting tea reviews online, to try to put words to what I taste. I welcome additional opinions on all of the tea things I post.
One of my friends once described a tea as tasting like “tires covered in honey.” I can’t remember what tea it was, but I vaguely remember agreeing with her once I worked out in my mind what tires might taste like.
At the end of the day, tasting tea is fun. The above method may seem like a lot of work, but once you get the hang of it the steps go quickly, and you will find yourself opening your senses to the colors, smells, and tastes of the world. If you’re a coffee drinker, perhaps you can use a similar observation method for your brews, or even compare a light coffee to a strong tea. The possibilities are endless. Hopefully you’ll stay with me on this tea journey.
I do most of my shopping on amazon, so I’ve selected a few items that may help you get started. I haven’t picked any tea from amazon; I have yet to find one that’s actually worth recommending.
By now I’m guessing you all know that I read and taste test things a couple of weeks before I get around to publishing the article. Having tasted 4 of the 5 Teasenz tea samples I have on hand, I can say with certainty that this brand is a keeper. The leaves are of remarkable quality, and the prices are so low even an unemployed student can afford them.
For the sake of being concise, I’ve decided to make separate posts with pronunciations and gongfu information, because including all of that into each post is a little messy.
This week, I’m focusing on Yunnan Gold, a tea that will probably be forever seared into my memory. Yunnan Gold (云南金芽, yunnan jinya ) is a type of Dian Hong (滇红) tea. I first discovered Dian Hong about a year ago at my school’s cultural fair. After just one sip, my mouth exploded with the different flavors and colors of the tea, and I knew I would be interested in trying more.
When I received Teasenz samples, I was overjoyed to find not one, but two different types of Dian Hong. Until then, I’d only tried medium-grade Dian Hong, which has a mix of gold and brown leaves. Yunnan (Pure) Gold is the highest quality Dian Hong there is, named for the strikingly golden fur on the leaves. Despite traveling across the Pacific Ocean to reach my doorstep, Teasenz’s leaves kept their shape, color, and aroma. I teared up when I opened the package because the leaves were just that beautiful.
Because Yunnan Gold is a red tea, I chose to use 5 grams in a 100 ml gaiwan with water boiled to 100 degrees Celsius.
The dry leaves of Yunnan Gold smelled like artificial strawberry and grape flavorings (which I consider to
Dry Yunnan Gold Leaves
be a positive smell), with a lot of warmth and depth. I detected notes of mahogany furniture in the mix. When I added the water, they smelled like I had set berries on fire. The tea liquor was a vibrant yellow-orange/ amber, clouded by the tea’s fur. For some reason, the liquor smelled like a chlorinated pool. I’m guessing that has something to do with my water because several teas have had that smell. At any rate, Yunnan Gold’s tea liquor was much brighter than regular Dian Hong’s tea liquor.
When I took my first sip, I was somewhat disappointed by how thin it felt in my mouth. I expected the fur to give Yunnan Gold a thick, syrupy feeling but that was not the case.
Regardless, Yunnan Gold was super smooth; it slid over my tongue and felt like I was being wrapped in a plush blanket. Yunnan Gold’s flavor was much more delicate than other Dian Hongs I’ve tasted, and it was almost more floral than fruity.
The second brew was more orange than the first. It fell more on the red side of the color spectrum than the previous brew. As I continued drinking, I started to taste a metallic flavor dancing around the tea. At the same time, I discovered hints of mango chutney. The more I brewed the tea, the more the flavor began to resemble an unsmoked Lapsang Souchong. There was no bitterness in Yunnan Gold, but I did taste some of
Yunnan Gold (left) and low quality Dian Hong (right) Tea Liquor
the saltiness that is common among red teas. Each infusion lead to a slightly more red liquor; I found the transformation interesting to watch.
Yunnan Gold’s aftertaste is like perfume. It reminded me of Marc Jacob’s Daisy Eau So Fresh. That happens to be my favorite perfume, so I was more than pleased.
If you’re looking to try this fantastic tea, head on over to the Teasenz website.
Teasenz classifies this tea bar as ripe (“shou”) “pu’erh.” I’ve found that the spellings tend to vary slightly depending on the speaker’s region and native language. I tend to refer to the tea as either “pu’er” or “puer,” as I don’t believe the ‘h’ is necessary on the end. I also tend to say “shu” （熟）instead of “shou” for similar reasons. Just as an FYI, “pu’er” in Chinese is “普洱,” and is pronounced the same both in Mandarin and in English.
The packaging of Teasenz Pu’erh Tea BarThe back of the Teasenz Pu’erh Tea Bar package
I’m obsessed with the packaging of Teasenz’s Mini Pu’erh Tea Bar. The tea comes in the shape of a chocolate bar wrapped in eco-friendly kraft paper and stored in an unbleached cardboard box. I took several pictures because the packaging was so cute.
I had so much fun tasting Teasenz’s Mini Pu’erh Tea Bar. Each square portion weighs about 8 grams, so even though I usually only brew about 3-5 grams of ripe pu’er at a time, I decided to first brew and entire square in a 100ml gaiwan. The tea had a very slight fish smell which I found concerning, but the stronger scent was of soil. In general, I find that ripe pu’er smells more like soil than anything else. It was raining heavily in my city when the tea arrived; I figured that influenced the scent. When I warmed the gaiwan and placed the square inside, the fish smell gave way to a deeper, earthy smell. I poured boiling water (100C) over the leaves, closed the gaiwan and allowed the tea to brew for about 45 seconds. I poured this brew into the fairness pitcher and repeated the process. Once the tea had been rinsed, I poured the rinse water down the drain. Due to the processing methods of ripe pu’er, it’s important to rinse the tea at least once, and preferably two or three times to wash away any impurities and to open up the leaves.
After I’d finished rinsing the tea, I once again filled the gaiwan and allowed the tea to brew for 30 seconds. The resulting brew was absolutely awful. It was too concentrated for my taste. The color of the tea liquor was wonderfully red-brown– my mom described the color as “brandy,” but I don’t know what brandy looks like so I’ll take her word for it. The tea tasted just like it smelled, but it was bitter. I will admit, though, that the tea was incredibly smooth. It had a thick mouth feel and coated the tongue beautifully. If it weren’t for the bitter bite, this strong brew of the tea would have been wonderful. I actually gave the tea to my parents because I couldn’t finish it, and both of them enjoyed it immensely. My mother put a little bit of French vanilla creamer in it (she puts creamer in almost all coffees and teas) and my father drank the tea straight. He raved about the flavor and feeling.
Teasenz Tea Bar tea liquor
Because I don’t normally drink such strong pu’er, I decided to experiment further with this tea bar. I have a gaiwan that probably has about a 200ml capacity. I place the entire square in the larger gaiwan and put about 3 grams of tea into a standard 100ml gaiwan. I used boiling water for both and repeated the rinse process I used during the first brewing, then I brewed the tea normally. I noticed and immediate difference between the two fairness pitchers. The pitcher that contained the brew from the larger gaiwan appeared darker than the tea in the smaller gaiwan. Both brews were only slightly lighter than the first brew, though I was brewing in a different room at a different time of day, which may have affected my perception.
I found the brew from the larger gaiwan to be nearly as unpalatable as the first brew, but when I tasted the tea from the smaller gaiwan, which contained a slightly thinner brew, I started to detect hints of fruit. I’ve only ever tasted one ripe pu’er that I actually enjoyed, but that tea also had fruity and floral notes. I’ve found that ripe pu’er can be incredibly complex, but it has to be brewed the right way. The kind of pu’er one finds in a Chinese restaurant is usually so watered down the flavor is almost undetectable, so I’m in the process of finding a happy medium.
The brewing instructions on the tea bar package suggest using a teapot, but there is no indication how large the tea pot should be. I’m going to use the largest teapot I have (it holds something like 6 or 8 cups of tea) and see how that turns out. I’m also going to try using even less tea (1-2 grams) in a standard gaiwan to see how that affects the flavor. I definitely think the Teasenz Tea Bar is promising, and for people who regularly drink pu’er, I bet the tea is delicious. I, however, still need to find a flavor balance that works for me. As I write this, I’m still thinking of how comfortable the tea felt on my tongue. If only all teas had such a wonderful, velvety texture. As you’ll discover as I post more Teasenz reviews, Teasenz delivers tea of phenomenal quality. With a $5 flat-rate shipping fee WORLDWIDE (up to 2Kg) and very reasonably prices, I can definitely see myself ordering more Teasenz in the future.
Click here to explore the Teasenz website, or click here to go directly to their Pu’erh Tea Bar page. The small tea bar (50g) is only about $7 and the large tea bar (70g) is only about $10.
This week, I became well acquainted with Mei Leaf’s Hu Xiao Qi Lan (who see-ow chi lan), or “Summer Haze.” I searched the internet for the characters for “Hu Xiao Qi Lan,” but the only thing I could find was “奇兰” (qi lan), which is a particular type of cliff tea. I typed in various combinations of characters for “hu” and “xiao” but I couldn’t find a combination that made sense. Since this tea came from Tiger Cliff in Fujian province, I’m guessing the “hu xiao” is “虎啸” which means “tiger.” In the end it doesn’t really matter; I don’t need the characters to identify the tea, and “qi lan” will likely be enough for me to find another similar tea and make comparisons. Part two of the tasting experience was not quite as delightful as part one, but that’s not to say it was unpleasant. Rather, qi lan simply isn’t my style. I’m used to darker, fuller-bodied oolongs. If I have to choose between cliff teas, phoenix oolongs and Tie Guan Yin (“tee-eh goo-won yeen”, Iron Goddess), I’m more likely to choose cliff teas. To me, Qi Lan seemed to be more on the lighter end of the cliff tea spectrum. Mei Leaf describes Qi Lan as having an “asian pear” flavor note… but I don’t particularly like pears. Still, the tea was very good.
Beginning brews of the Qi Lan tea liqour
I tasted the tea in a 100ml gaiwan and boiled the water to just under 100C. I don’t have a kettle that allows me to boil water to a specific temperature, so my only options are to either boil the water and wait for it to cool down or to bring the water to a boil then add cooler water until the temperature is right. I usually bring the water to a boil and pour it from a height so the water reaches the appropriate temperature before it reaches the tea leaves. There’s a little bit of splashing involved in this process, but my hands have been burnt so many times they pretty much don’t feel the heat anymore (this is also convenient when I’m cooking). As with Bei Dou, Qi Lan‘s leaves were long, dark and twisted. There were not a whole lot of broken leaf fragments in the package. I measured out 8 grams of tea for the first brew, because that’s my standard, but I also tried brewing just 5 grams of leaves, which is the amount Mei Leaf recommended. Generally, I prefer the flavorful impact of 8 gram brews, but Qi Lan’s flavor became murky and a little bitter when I used 8 grams. 5 grams of tea seemed to be just the right amount to bring out Qi Lan‘s personality.
The smell of the dry leaf was kind of citrusy– I agree with Mei Leaf’s “mangosteen” description. Wetting the leaf brought out the smokey/earthy aroma one finds in nearly all cliff teas. The first few brews yielded a tea liquor that was a fairly bright yellow-orange. The more I brewed the tea, the more yellow the tea liquor became. If I had to look at color alone, I would have never guessed the tea is a cliff oolong, because all of the cliff oolong’s I’ve tasted tend to stay on the red-brown spectrum.
Qi Lan has been by far one of the most interesting cliff oolong’s I’ve tasted to date. The mouth feel is rather thin, but the flavor is complex. The first thing I noticed was the overwhelming brightness of the flavor. If you compare Bei Dou side-by-side with Qi Lan, you’ll notice an immediate difference. Whereas Bei Dou and other cliff teas like Rou Gui (“row gooway”) tend to taste dark and heavy, Qi Lan has a lightness that doesn’t weigh down the tongue. The flavor continued to develop as I chewed on the aroma. Qi Lan reminded me of late spring and early summer fruits, while Bei Dou reminded me of mid-to-late autumn fruit. Bei Dou was a warm tea, but Qi Lan felt cool. Once I opened my mouth again, the flavor dissipated. Qi Lan doesn’t seem to have the long, lingering flavor of darker oolongs.
I still prefer the darker personality of Bei Dou, but Qi Lan is great for casual drinking. In fact, I used Qi Lan for western brews and cold brews that I put in bottles to take with me while I run errands. Qi Lan tastes great but it isn’t overwhelmingly powerful like other cliff teas. I would not, however, suggest drinking Qi Lan with meals that have strong flavors. Qi Lan is a little shy, and I can easily see it hiding behind the taste of a meat dish. As an experiment, though, it might be worth it to see what Qi Lan tastes like as a food flavoring. I wouldn’t use it to make tea eggs (that’d probably be weird) but I wonder if Qi Lan can be used as a cake flavoring. I’m much too incompetent in the kitchen to try it out, but I’d love to hear the results if any of you do wind up testing it.
Some time ago, I was fortunate enough (read: persistent enough) to win a voucher for some tea at Mei Leaf (pronounced “may leaf”). Up until that point, I’d been following Mei Leaf on YouTube for almost a year. If you read my review on The Tea Girl of Hummingbird Lane, you know I’m nothing short of a tea fanatic. I wasn’t sure I’d be able to return to China to work after I finished uni, and I needed to find other places to get reasonably priced Chinese tea. Don and his team at Mei Leaf do a wonderful job of not only marketing Mei Leaf, but also of educating the tea-drinking community about the tea itself, along with dropping tidbits of Chinese tea culture. If you’re interested in that sort of thing, check out their YouTube channel, or follow them on basically any social media outlet available to you (Twitter, Instagram, Facebook). You’ll be a connoisseur in no time.
With my voucher, I decided to buy Bei Dou (pronounced “bay dough”), which I’ll discuss below, and Hu Xiao Qi Lan (“who see-ow chee lan”) which is also known as “Summer Haze.” I generally refer to teas by their Chinese names, because that’s the way I know them best, but where applicable I will also include the English names and the Chinese characters somewhere in the post (I plan on doing a series of tea reviews). Mei Leaf calls Bei Dou Yi Hao (北斗一号) “Lost Robe,” though I also found sources referring to Bei Dou as “North Star.” I’m not that familiar with this particular cultivar of tea, so I welcome clarification on the subject. [Edit: I checked the Mei Leaf website and it seems they also have Bei Dou listed as “North Star,” I suppose they also decided to give it a store name.]
Regardless of their English names, both Bei Dou and Hu Xiao Qi Lan are both types of rock/cliff oolong. This means that they come from Wuyi (“oo-yee,” 武夷山 )Mountain in China’s Fujian (“foo-jee-in”) Province. There are many different kinds of cliff tea, the most prized of which is probably Da Hong Pao, or Lost Red Robe. Cliff teas are characteristic for their aroma and warm flavors. The smoke used in the processing of cliff teas often imparts a deep, earthy flavor and depending on the particular cultivar you might detect notes of fruit, fudge, or honey. I’ll discuss Hu Xiao Qi Lan more in another post. For now, I’ll focus on Mei Leaf’s Bei Dou. I drank a spring 2016 variety of Bei Dou, which means the tea is fairly young. It’s not uncommon to get cliff teas that are about a year old, but if stored properly, cliff teas get better with age. One of these days I may try aging teas myself, but I’m hopelessly in love with cliff teas, which means I can never manage to keep them in the house. I brew at least 5 grams of tea per day, and if I’m taste testing, I might drink upwards of 15 or 20 grams. I try not to drink that much tea though, because after about 10 grams (which makes about 5 or 6 hefty cups of tea) I start to feel lightheaded (lightheadedness a symptom of drinking large amounts of high-quality tea).
For reference, I used clean tap water because it tastes better in tea than the filtered water that comes from the refrigerator. Filtered water in the U.S. has a bit of a chlorinated flavor, and in my area the tap water is clean enough to drink anyway, especially after I’ve boiled it. I’m not quite sure why the water from the tap tastes different, but the reason most likely has something to do with the minerals in tap water. I used 8 grams of tea in a standard 100 ml gaiwan. I played around with the brewing temperature but found Mei Leaf’s recommended 99C (just below boiling) temperature to be perfect. Hotter water produced a sour burnt coffee flavor while cooler water produced flat-bodied tea. To boil the water, I just put it in a kettle on the stove. Before brewing the tea, I inspected the leaves. They were long, dark, and somewhat twisted, which is what you would expect of high-quality cliff oolongs. Though the tea came packaged in what was essentially cardstock and plastic, Mei Leaf included an oxygen absorber to prevent the tea from oxidizing. This is extremely important, as over oxidized tea has sub-par flavor.
Dry Bei Dou Leaves
To smell the aroma of the leaves, I wet the gaiwan with the near-boiling water, then poured that water into a fairness pitcher (gong dao bei, 公道杯). After pouring the water out, I put the leaves in the gaiwan, closed it, and gave it a shake. I lifted the lid and took a big whiff. The leaves smelled like chocolate cake and tiramisu. They were earthy but did not smell like soil. The leaves smelled more like clean, dry Earth, or perhaps like the embers of a fire. Once I’d noted the smell of the dry leaves, I poured water into the gaiwan and brewed the tea. I’ll make a post later about brewing tea with a gaiwan using the gongfu method. I wouldn’t recommend it for all teas, but it certainly helps bring out the flavor of Chinese teas. After pouring the brew into the fairness pitcher, I once again smelled the leaves. The moisture transformed the aroma. This time the leaves smelled more life firewood and less like chocolate. There were hints of fruit, though I could not figure out which fruit I detected.
Bei Dou tea liquor
The first brew of the tea tasted like coffee, chocolate, and red fruit all mixed together. I chose the color red arbitrarily, but that was the feeling I got, and I associate “red fruit” with a particular flavor. Something like candied hawthorn. There was absolutely no bitterness in the tea, and the overall flavor was very dark. Bei Dou’s flavor matured with each subsequent brew. The warm fruit notes evolved into a more fully bloomed warm candy flavor. The “mouth feel,” while not very thick, was quite satisfying. I experimented with different infusion times for this tea and found that for Bei Dou it’s best not to rush the brewing. While sometimes I do a lot of quick, successive brews, I found that with Bei Dou it’s best to let the water rest a little bit between filling the gaiwan and pouring it out. The color of the tea liquor was exactly as I’d expected; It was a somewhat clear brownish-red. I would have like the color to be a bit more vibrant, but what the tea lacks in color it makes up for in flavor.
I’m incredibly impressed by this tea. My experience with buying Chinese teas in the west had not been positive until I came across Mei Leaf. Previously I’d purchased Harley and Sons Lapsang Souchong and found the tea to be so unpalatable I threw it out. I’m glad I’ve found at least one place that sells pretty good tea. Thank you, Mei Leaf.
Click here to navigate to the Bei Dou product page.
This week, I’m focusing on Yunnan Gold, a tea that will probably be forever seared into my memory. Yunnan Gold (云南金芽, yunnan jinya ) is a type of Dian Hong (滇红) tea. I first discovered Dian Hong about a year ago at my school’s cultural fair. After just one sip, my mouth exploded with the different flavors and colors of the tea, and I knew I would be interested in trying more.
This week, I became well acquainted with Mei Leaf’s Hu Xiao Qi Lan (who see-ow chi lan), or “
Perfect Leaves 
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