Tag: Tea Talk

If it Looks Like Chocolate and Smells Like Chocolate…

A note on the language of this post:

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.

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The packaging of Teasenz Pu'erh Tea Bar
The packaging of Teasenz Pu’erh Tea Bar
the back of the Teasenz pu'erh tea bar package
The 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
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.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Mei Leaf’s Blinding “Summer Haze”

For some background information, be sure to check out the post on my first Mei Leaf tasting experience.

Mei Leaf BoxesThis 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.

 

Qi Lan Tea Liqour
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.

 

北斗(Bei Dou, Lost Robe), My New Tea Bae

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.

 

Bei Dou tea arrangement

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
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
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.

Screaming in a Chinese Hotel Room

Content warning: adoption, unhealthy relationships, drugs

2017. Scribner. 385 Pgs

The Tea Girl of Hummingbird Lane

By: Lisa See

Before I go into my review, let me give a little bit of background about myself, which might help you all understand my reaction to the The Tea Girl of Hummingbird Lane. Never a fan of coffee, I grew up drinking tea. Because tea leaves are somewhat expensive in the United States (and they weren’t readily available where I lived until recently), I learned to settle for teabags. Later, around my second year in university, I happened upon the Tianshan Tea City in Shanghai, China. I returned every week during the winter break, and every month during the following semester, learning how to brew tea from a gaiwan (a bowl-like tool for brewing tea) and tasting the differences between types of tea. I left China for about a year after that, and my tea education stagnated. When I returned, I picked up where I left off, this time to learn as much as I can before I had to leave again. Slowly, I’ve been differentiating not just between types of tea, but between different blends of a single type. Just before coming across The Tea Girl of Hummingbird Lane, I started to experiment with pu’er tea.

I picked up my first Lisa See novel, Shanghai Girls, in high school, and read it over the course of a weekend. Ever since, See has been one of my favorite authors, and she may or may not have influenced my eventual decision to study in China (even I’m not sure at this point). When I learned The Tea Girl of Hummingbird Lane was up for grabs on NetGalley, I jumped at the chance to read it. Fortunately, I was selected as a pre-reader, and I honestly can’t recommend the book enough.

The Tea Girl of Hummingbird Lane is primarily about Li-yan, an Akha (a particular Chinese minority; China has 55 ethnic minorities) girl from a tribe on Nannuo Mountain. The mountain is now well-known for its pu’er tea, but during the beginning of the story,  the people on the mountain had no idea what pu’er is, and the type of tea was itself relatively unknown. As a result, Akha people live in poverty. Their families and their spiritual traditions are all they have (that and a plot of land allotted by the Chinese government). In the beginning of the novel, Li-yan expressed doubt about her tribe’s traditions. When I first started reading, I really thought the novel was going to be about a girl who stops living by her cultural rules and moves to the west to sell her culture as a commodity. I’m so glad The Tea Girl of Hummingbird Lane didn’t go in that direction.

In Akha tradition, each action can result and either bad or good fortune. As Li-yan goes through life, she tries to understand what is happening to her based on the way she has behaved in the past. The book focuses not only her life, but also on the growth and production of pu’er tea. A less-skilled author might have handled these sections dryly, but See writes them in such a way that they seamlessly flow into the pace of the novel. As a tea nerd, I especially enjoyed this information, but even those who don’t drink tea will learn a lot about it from reading this book.

At one point–and I can’t say when or why without including a spoiler– the novel branches off into a substory, with its own characters. One of the characters in the sub-story has something to do with a couple characters in the main story, but otherwise the storylines remain completely separate. Despite the difficulty of juggling two completely different plots, Lisa See manages to pull it off. She avoids inconsistencies while giving characters depth. She made me truly care about each of the two main characters, and I also formed opinions about some of the supporting characters. See’s superb writing style, quick pace, and excellent word choice kept my eyes glued to the book. I went to read a chapter before bed and before I knew it I had read three.

The only criticism I have about The Tea Girl of Hummingbird Lane is the way it ended. Throughout the entire novel, I found myself surprised by what happened next (at one point, I was whisper-screaming, “NO, NO, OH MY GOD, NO!” in my hotel room. I’m so glad I was alone), but the last few pages or so were too predictable. I suspect this happened because See wanted to quickly wrap up the loose ends, but because of the way the novel ended, it would have been nice to have experienced a little bit more of the emotional atmosphere for the two main characters. I actually would have preferred to hear about the events from Li-yan’s perspective as well as the other character. As it is, I didn’t feel like the novel had a tight ending. I actually even flipped the page after the last sentence expecting to find another chapter.

That being said, the rest of the novel is fantastic. Of the 384 pages, only the 2 of them disappointed me. Fans of Lisa See will surely enjoy her latest book. For those who haven’t yet read anything by the author, The Tea Girl of Hummingbird Lane, is an excellent starting point.

 

Find the book on Amazon | Goodreads

 

 

 

 

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