making tea at Cheong Seok Gol; harvest

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!

part 2; roasting & drying ⤷

Leaving Kkik Da Geo

Arriving in Hwagae Valley

Below Korea's first tea field

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

Heading back down the mountain

our combined haul

Yi Wu Mountain, Wild Leaves, Menghai Product Company, Year 2005 (Green/Sheng)

Yi Wu Mountain, Wild Leaves, Menghai Product Company, Year 2005 (Green/Sheng)

There's one reason and one reason only that I don't exclusively buy 30+ year old puer, money. That said, I've quite enjoyed an eight year old bingcha from The Chinese Tea Shop that I purchased after finding Daniel's description intriguing:

"This recipe uses many tips, although the flavors are a bit more aggressive than expected. Rich camphor accompanied by mossy and earthy tones dominate the first brews. The camphor notes eventually fade allowing the moist rich mossy earth flavors to broaden out. Lightly flowery taste with honey overtones. Smooth, rich character if made with care. Excellent potential."

There are two things to pay attention to in his description, "excellent potential" and "if made with care". Let me emphasize that "if" one more time...

My love of oolong tea has left my tea making skills disproportionately developed and most of my experience with puer has been either well aged or shu puer. So, unaware of the kick in the mouth I was about to be steeping in, I filled my pot with a nice large chuck of wild leaves, with a few loose crumbs for balance, rinsed, and eagerly poured the first cup.

The sent was much as advertised, mossy, smoky, camphor. The moment the drink wet my mouth, though, wow, a mind-shattering bitterness took over my consciousness to the point that I nearly felt nauseous. I took about half of the leaves out of the pot and tried again, and though it was tolerable, it was still very strong. After tolerating the first few over powering steeps, it eased into a very nice tea. The amazing thing about the initial blast of overzealous infusing was the residue of tea oil built up in my throat. Throughout the whole day, and late into the night, the aftertaste emerged, as strong as if I'd just drunk a few cups. It's the only time I've had an aftertaste out do that of Phoenix Dancong, and out-did-it it did by a lot.

I've since tried this tea with varying amounts of leaf, and even a small chunk is very enjoyable but I actually enjoy a but of the harshness so I don't mind a medium sized piece. I haven't experienced the everlasting aftertaste of the first experience, but I also haven't been nauseated by this tea since, either. I'm actually not sure if the cake I ordered will ever get to reach its potential, I've already gone through half of it in a few months. For only $20, though, I can easily get another one, or three!