Showing posts with label Hadong. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Hadong. Show all posts

Monday, October 28, 2013

Handmade Jung-jak cha, from Cheong Seok Gol




It's about time I add a bit about preparing Korean green tea, taking a look at the tea we made back in May. For a bunch of first-time tea makers, our efforts were a success, aside from from a few leaves being greener than the desired bluish-jade and a few strands of cotton I've had to pick out from the gloves we were wearing.

Korean tea ware is much heavier and more rustic and bulky than its elegantly simple Yixing counterpart, but there's a humble charm I've always appreciated about Korea's rustic aesthetic. The most recognizable feature of a Korean teapot is the long side handle, perpendicular to the spout. I chose this set because it was traditionally fired in a wood kiln with a beautifully textured and coloured glaze. In the tea shop, I mentioned Japanese "raku" firing, asking if it were the same. This was back in 2007, before I knew better, and if looks could kill, from the other-wise lovely clerk, I wouldn't have lived to see 2008, or even taken another breath, for that matter... You see, during the Japanese invasion of 1592, Korea's best potters were forcibly taken to Japan, entire villages of them in some cases, leaving Korea to relearn what was lost with the sudden absence of its masters. It happened 422 years ago, but anything related to Japan remains a touchy issue!

Korean tea sets often serve 3-5 people, though if you were to substitute Chinese cups, you could nearly double the servings. Some traditional Korean techniques focus on three servings, but I can't help but approach any tea with a gongfu method. An important piece in the Korean set is the "suku"(숙우), a spouted bowl for cooling the boiled water, since Korean green tea requires the water to be cooled to a very low temperature. The first infusion can be steeped at as low as 50ºC/122ºF (which requires a longer steep than usual). Since green tea is unique in that the brewing temperature is much higher as the steeps progress, the suku is convenient for cooling small amounts of water, while the rest may remain heated in the kettle. There's a saying in Korea not to be too greedy during the first infusion. If the first cup is too delicious, the rest of the session won't be as good. I don't see it as choosing quantity over quality, but finding a pleasant balance between the two.

The pot and cups are heated, as the Chinese do, but unlike Chinese style, there is little to no overspill. There is also a smaller leaf to water ratio than gongfu style, but that's often the case with any green tea. Once the set is heated, a single pot's worth of water is poured into the suku. While waiting for the water to cool, the heated pot has some time to heat the leaves and awakens them with a rich, sweet aroma.

There's no need to rinse the leaves. Once the water is cooled, gently pour it over the leaves in a circular motion. With the water between 70-80ºC, steep the leaves for 20 seconds, then you may either pour directly into the cups or back into the suku. I look for a light jade color in the cup. If find a strong or slightly yellow colour is too bitter for my liking and loses its delicate sweetness. The second steep should be 15 seconds and the third 20 seconds again. After the third steep start increasing the time by 10-15 seconds. While steeping, rotate your wrist to gently rock the pot in a circular motion. It always gives me a little thrill to see how bright green the leaves become after steeping them, almost as they were off the bush.

Green tea is one of the trickiest to steep well. It took me lot of practice before I was able to steep more than three cups and still extract any flavour. As delicate as Korean green tea is, even if done with skill, after the sixth steep, the brew is very light, especially with Ujeon or Sejak.





















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Tuesday, July 30, 2013

Myung Won "Hadong Green Tea"

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After receiving this tea as a gift at the COEX Tea World Festival from Myung Won's booth, I was very excited to get home and try it. The chairwoman of the company is holder of Korea's Intangible Cultural Asset Number 27 for the Royal Court Tea Ceremony, and has been recognized with the Ok-Gwan (Jade) Order of Cultural Merit from the Korean Government.

The box was divided into two small packages, one with 20g of "녹차 Green Tea", and the other 20g of "홍차 Black Tea". I found the simplicity of the names a bit puzzling since, traditionally, Korean green tea is known as 작설차 (Jakseol Cha/Sparrow's Tongue tea) and is then divided into 우전 (Ujeon), 세작 (Sejak), and 중작 (Jungjak) for the first, second, and third flushes.

The second sign that I may have overestimated this tea was the leaves themselves. Though a bold, sweet fragrance emerged when I cut open the foil pack, reminiscent of strawberry jam, the elegantly curled leaves, beautiful to look at, had many bright green leaves mixed in. In other respected teas from the area, these would have been painstakingly removed during the roasting and drying process.

The steeped leaves had a full balance of sweet and tart that eventually faded into a piney astringency. The aftertaste was rich and a burst of sweetness on the tongue left a pleasurable final impression. The finished leaves varied widely in size, but most closely resembled a Jungjak harvest.

Somewhere between my initial great expectations and subsequent skepticism after inspecting the packaging and leaves, this tea ended up being very delightful. Though it lacked the subtlety of the highest quality Hadong teas, it is still a much appreciated gift that I will enjoy 'till the end.















Monday, May 27, 2013

making tea at Cheong Seok Gol; roasting and drying



⤶ Part 1; harvest

Once we ate and had a quick tea break, it was time to sort through the leaves, one by one to remove any that were to big, broken, or pour quality, and remove the long stems. This may have been one of the most tedious parts of the process but many hands made quick work.

After another tea break, we gathered around the two traditional cast-iron "gamasot", sort of a wide, shallow cauldron set into a fire pit. Traditionally, Korean tea was roasted was roasted over a wood fire and though tradition is important in making good tea, gas fire is preferable for keeping a steady temperature, a very important detail. The gamasot was heated to about 280ºC and the tea master dropped in a basket full of leaves. They immediately began popping and snapping on the hot iron cauldron as he tossed them in the heat. Again, we all remarked the incredible smell, which I personally found reminded me of sweet pea mixed with sort of a dry curry smell.

From the gamasot, the leaves were quickly transferred to a cloth-topped table where we tossed them in front of a fan to cool them down. This had to be done quickly because the heat would ferment them, which would defeat the purpose of the whole process. When they were cool enough, we each grabbed a pile and cupping both our hands over them, rolled them in alternating diagonal directions; back and forth to the left, then back and forth to the right. After doing this a few times, the leaves had to be totally untangled form each other by tossing them in your fingers and pulling apart the larger clumps.

After the first batch, we rotated tasks and it was my team's turn to roast. We put on three pairs of thick, cotton gloves for the heat, but even with them, after a minute the heat of the gamasot was scalding. The roasting was done by grabbing the leaves in the back, then bringing them around the circumference of the heap, them pushing them to the middle, making sure that all the leaves got roasted evenly.

Once all the leaves had been roasted, cooled, rolled, and separated, we spread them out on large screens to dry. They had to be spread very thinly and not piled on top of one another or they wouldn't dry properly.

While spreading them on the screens, I asked Mr Ahn what he thought about the leaves. He said they looked a little big, but not too bad. With all the leaves on the rack drying, we gathered again in the common room for more tea and snacks. After a long day of travel, picking, and roasting, I thought we'd be going to sleep soon, then getting up early to continue the process but after 40 minutes, Mr Ahn pointed at the clock and we all returned to the back room, gathered all the leaves into baskets, and began the roasting/drying process again. This time, the gamasot was heated to only heated to about 140ºC and we only needed a single pair of gloves.

Normally, three roasts and dries would be enough, but a heavy rain began to fall, not ideal for drying the leaves, so we repeated the process a forth time. A bit after midnight, after one last tea break, we were finally done for the night.

The sweet, heavy smell of tea leaves hung pleasantly in my throat as I laid down on the mat on the floor. It wasn't long before a slipped into a deep sleep.

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Sunday, May 26, 2013

making tea at Cheong Seok Gol; harvest

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Last weekend, Kkik Da Geo organized a trip to Cheong Seok Gol (청석골), to pick and roast our own Jung-jak (중작), third flush green tea.

Cheong Seok Gol is one of the top three tea producing families in Korea (in terms of quality, not sales) but what sets it apart is that it's mix of wild and semi-wild tea bushes are also certified organic. I've been drinking their tea for six years, now, and even once, unsuccessfully, tried to find their tea farm on my own. Visiting them during production time is something I've been hoping to do for a long time. Getting to join in the production was more than I'd ever expected!

The tea field covers a south-facing slope of HwangJang San, one of the foot hills of Jiri San, in Hwagae Valley, the heart of Korean green tea. We arrived in the valley an hour ahead of schedule, so we met the Cheong Seok Gol tea master by SsangGye Temple and made a quick visit to Korea's first tea field, originally planted over 1000 years ago beneath a large bamboo grove. About 30 minutes further up the hill, there is also an ancient tea tree that is the biggest in Korea. We didn't have time to see it, but what a great excuse to come back next time!

Once we arrived at the house, we dropped our bags, climbed into little, hand-made monorail carts, and headed up the hill, through the tea bushes. At the top, we were given a little crash-course in what to look for. I knew the concept of what to look for, but while actually picking the leaves, I was more difficult. What you're looking for is a single, furry bud with one partially opened leaf and one small fully opened but tender leaf below it on a short stem. Since I usually drink Sejak (세작, second flush) or occasionally Ujeon (우전, first flush, ridiculously expensive), I had an eye for much smaller leaves. After a quick look at Mr Ahn's cull, I realized I wasn't doing too bad, though he did remind me to be sure to pick the second leaf. The bud and first leaf give the tea its sweetness but the more bitter second leaf round out the flavour.

After a couple of hours of picking, you start to feel it in your back as your shoulders start getting tired and tight. Then mental fatigue starts to consume you, like the first time you hike a mountain, or try meditating for more than 30 minutes and you start wondering if it's ever going to end. I took a few moments to breath in the mountain air, take in the beautiful scene and enjoy the moment. I couldn't help but notice the degree of intensity in the focus of Mr Ahn, as he carefully searched each bush for the best buds, working his way well down the slope while most of the rest of us were still close to where we'd first started.

As my harvest slowly started gaining weight, I tossed the sweating leaves around a little and held a handful up to my nose. The smell was a beautiful mix of soft, floral sweetness and strong, grassy citronella. After a few hours, we all gathered together, minus Mr Ahn, who'd made his way all the way to the bottom, we all began remarking on the intense smell of the leaves.

Not similar to my experiences hiking, but quite like my experience meditating, knowing that we were finished gave me a second wind, and since we'd arrived at the wild-bush section of the field, a few of us started topping off our harvest with the larger but still very tender wild leaves, pushing out from the stony slope.

Once we were all gathered in the workshop, the tea master weighed our hauls and we combined them in a couple of large, flat bamboo baskets. I managed to pick 300g and the fifteen of us together picked about 2kg of leaves.

When asked how we did, the tea master didn't come out and that we were terrible, but instead mentioned that one professional picker (usually old local women) could pick 2kg of leaves in a day, or 800g of tiny Ujeon buds. It wasn't the most direct of answers, but it had me laughing!


Leaving Kkik Da Geo

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Arriving in Hwagae Valley

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Below Korea's first tea field



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some nice tea buds

About $40,000 worth of Ujeon, Sejak, & Balhyo cha (fermented tea)

looking at leaves for Balhyo cha

boarding the tea train

heading up the mountain



Mr Ahn, picking tea










picking wild tea
my personal effort




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Heading back down the mountain

our combined haul