Aged Old Bush, Wu Yi "Shui Xian"老歲水仙茶

After being amazed so far by every tea I've tasted from cliffs of Wuyi Mounatin, and Da Hong Pao being the very tea that first got me interested in Chinese tea, I decided to order a small amount of aged "Shui Xian", harvested from 100-year-old trees to further my figurative exploration of the mountain.

Before we get into the tea itself, I'd like to delve into its name a bit. Shui Xian is actually the name of the cultivar that all Wuyi "yan chan" (cliff teas) are produced from. There are several translations for its name, including Narcissus, Sacred Lily, Water Fairy, or the name of a Taoist Immortal. According to the Chinese character for Xian (仙, person + mountain/person on a mountain), it has the connotation of a mountain hermit which is what the Taoist Immortals essential were. It also fits with the tendency of famous teas to have some mystical legend attached to them. Another theory claims that the Shui Xian cultivar originated not too far north of Wuyi mountain, in a cave called Zhu Xian and the local dialect lead to the confusion of "Zhu" with "Shui" (水, water). There is also speculation that Zhu was the local word for pray, which could mean it was a cave where an Immortal prayed and perhaps he found a tea bush which he cultivated and passed on to the local farmers or the farmers may have named their local cultivar in honor of him.

Alas, a tea by another name would still taste as sweet (or bitter), so let's get brewing...

Looking at the leaves, the first thing that caught my cognition was how dark they are. Certainly putting the "oo" in oolong, except for slight reddish-brown highlights, they are the blackest oolong leaves I've encountered. It would make sense if these were, in fact, the leaves that gave oolong its name.

The scent was rich, the heat of the high-fire roast apparent, quite similar to the aroma of dark-roast coffee beans. The leaves were so dark that even an instant rinse is darker than many puer teas I've drank. The first full infusion was even darker, as black as black could be (The photos below start from the third steep. I was so consumed, that I forgot to take a photo, twice...), fading to brown around the walls of the cup. The aroma of the tea soup was consistent with that of the leaves. Though it definitely tasted like tea, with a slight woodiness, and a strong presence of charcoal, it was very reminiscent of a strong cafe mocha or a shot of espresso (is that a thing? maybe it should be! or maybe I should just stick to making tea...). I found the residual taste of the firing quite strong but enjoyable. After all, it's part of what interested me about this tea. With trends pushing tea farmers more and more towards lightly fermented, barely roasted teas, a good traditional oolong like this is becoming rare. I'm also thinking perhaps this tea was recently re-roasted and just needs a few more months to soothe and mellow.

The leaves proved to be durable and consistent. Personally, I felt they lacked the "pow" of Da Hong Pao or the intricacy of Ruo Gui but since the price was comparably to an average grade Da Hong Pao and a quarter the price of a medium grade Ruo Gui, it stood its ground. Since Da Hong Pao, Ruo Gui, Tie Lo Han, and all the other Wuyi varieties, are essentially Shui Xian, and the variations are a result of the different growing conditions. My reasoning may be off a bit on this, but as they all do share a unique characteristic that makes them Wuyi Yan Cha, I consider this a good standard yan cha for comparison.

Da Hong Pao • 大红袍

                                              image from Tour-Beijing.com

One of the most intriguing of oolong teas, in taste and legend, is Da Hong Pao, 大红袍 (Big Red Robe), the most sought after of the Wu Yi cliff teas, 武夷岩茶.

Though there are at least a few teas that are claimed to be the first oolong, Da Hong Pao has a bit of history to back it up. I'm not saying that it is the first, but there's a high possibility. In the late 14th Century, Hongwu Emperor, the first emperor of the Ming Dynasty, announced that only loose leaf tea would be acceptable as tribute, the Wu Yi tea market, know for its Dragon & Phoenix tea cakes, instantly crashed. This prompted the local farmers to create loose leaf oolong teas, the most famous of which eventually came to be known as Da Hong Pao.

The legend of its name (at least the way I've heard it) has two parts. It begins with a young scholar on his way to Beijing to take his examination. Famished, he collapsed along the way, not far from Wu Yi Mountain and was found by a monk. The monk attended to him, nourishing him with tea until his strength returned.

When he arrived in Beijing, the Emperor's mother was ill. He presented he with the tea that he had carried from Wu Yi Mountain, and she, too, regained her health. As thanks, the emperor sent a gift of red cloth to protect the tea trees during the winter months. Eventually, the trees began to be know as Big Red Robe.

A few hundred years later, six of these original trees still cling to the cliff, huddled together, and produce the most expensive tea in the world. the yield is so slight that it mostly goes straight to the president of China and what's left may be auctioned for thousands of dollars per gram.

Considering you'd have to have some pretty fantastic tea karma to ever even catch a sniff of the real Da Hong Pao, there's really no choice but to go for opportunity cost and relegate myself to the lower grades of Da Hong Pao. Surrounding the original trees, several gardens have been developed over the last few decades, grown from clippings of the Da Hong Pao trees. These gardens are graded according to their similarity to the originals. How they compare, I'll never know, but even a fourth grade Da Hong Pao is still among my favorite teas.

Speaking of opportunity cost, once my talent in tea brewing had become more efficient, I'd inquired at the tea shop about purchasing some third grade leaves. The Tea Master actually told me not to bother since there really was very little difference. I thought that was very honest of him, considering the price difference was $20/100g more for the higher grade.

I would, one day soon, like to purchase a sample of high grade leaf to do a proper comparison, but for now, I'll trust my mentor.