Rou Gui Wuyi Yancha • 肉桂武夷岩茶

Rou Gui Wuyi Yancha • 肉桂武夷岩茶

On my last visit to Kkik Da Geo, I asked if they had any Wuyi yancha (cliff teas) in stock other than Da Hong Pao. Mrs Kim went into the back room and returned with a package of Rou Gui cha, Cassia Bark tea, named for it's cinnamon-like character. I hadn't been introduced to Rou Gui before but it's a Qing Dynasty tea that has recently joined the ranks of Wuyi's "Four Famous Tea Bushes (四大名欉, Sì dàmíng cóng), raising the number to five.

She spared no detail in preparing it, lining up a row of special cups, specific for high-end Wuyi teas, small even by gongfu standards, with beautiful red floral images raised from the sides of the cups. Loading a zhuni biao zhun pot with dark, twisted, heavily-roasted leaves, she proceeded to rinse them and a sweet but deep floral fragrance drifted about the table.

As she served each of us, I held the tiny cup to my nose and savoured a slow deep breath. The first sip revealed a flavour not unlike Da Hong Pao, but much softer and very floral. The whole shop went silent, as everything paused to appreciate this tea. The silence was only broken by our hums of delight. After a few cups, a strong "huigan" (回甘), a sweet aftertaste, literally a "returning sweetness", had built up. Da Hong Pao is known for it's unique flavour arising form the throat, but this tea's flavour gathered even deeper in the throat, in a place I'd never experienced flavour before. The tip of my tongue tingled with a bitter-sweet (mostly sweet) sensation. Its chaqi was very strong and a high-frequency buzz warmed me.

This tea continued to haunt me as I awoke in the middle of the night with the huigan still strong on my breath. The next night, it was even in my dreams, as I dreamt I was back at Kkik Da Geo's table, loading the back of a turtle with bundles of this tea. I think I will soon be returning with next month's tea budget for a package of this tea.

2009 Medium Roast Wuyi cliff tea, "Da Hong Pao" • 武夷大红袍

2009 Medium Roast Wu Yi cliff tea, "Da Hong Pao" • 武夷大红袍

After going close to a year without Da Hong Pao, I went all out and ordered a 300g package from The Chinese Tea Shop. I recognized the package from Kkik Da Geo, in Seoul, as one of the lower graded imitation Da Hong Pao, but I'd always been pleased with it in the past.

Here are my notes from a session with this tea ❦

For Da Hong Pao leaves, a standard Biao Zhun pot suits the twisted leaves best. For a solo tea session, I have a tiny 25 ml Yixing pot especially for Da Hong Pao. Some may be skeptical of the usefulness of such as small pot, but the smaller the pot, the lesser the margin for error. Besides, it fills my favorite cup perfectly! The stony character of the tea can handle boiling water, and though I'm an advocate of very short steeps, this is one tea that I'll make an acception for. For this session I did stick to a standard 15, 10, 15, 25, 35, 45, 55, 65... second schedule.

After heating the pot and gently nudging in as many leaves as the pot could hold, I close the lid and let the leaves warm for a moment while I heat the cup. I remove the lid to smell the leaves. They are rich, warm smelling with an herbal quality that lingers with sweetness in my throat.

Once the leaves are rinsed & the first steep is poured, the leaf smell is more awakened, with a lively, high-tone sense in the nostrils. The scent of the lid is similar to that of the warm leaves but deeper. It gives me a pleasant impression of what's to come. The tea itself smells rich and chocolaty. The medium roast is full but soft in the mouth. The taste is most evident in the throat as a strong, bitter-sweetness emerges.

The second cup has a more noticeable mouth feel than actual flavour. It's warm, velvety chocolate. Again, the taste emerges on the way down the throat. The scent of the tea oils oxidizing in the cup is amazingly sweat, with a rich, roasted note.

After the third cup, a strong, ashy aftertaste is beginning to develop.

The fourth cup has a slightly woody, chocolate smell. The bitterness is sharp, but pleasant, penetrating the back of my tongue and throat.

In the fifth cup, the chocolate has faded but a deep woodiness continues to build, especially in the throat. The after taste is very strong and enjoyable.

For the sixth infusion, the leaves have been polished down to their stony character. There is actually more of an initial flavour developing in the entire mouth, now, rather than just an aftertaste.

The seven cup has toned down on its bitterness, and I'm surprised to find a rich chocolate taste has returned.

The eighth & ninth cups still have a nice golden brown colour, and a faint sweetness in their scent but the taste is wearing thin, reduced to pure, roasted stone.

Finally, the tenth cup has exhausted the leaves and all there is left to admire is the leaves themselves.

Aged Traditional Tie Guan Yin • 炭焙 傳統觀音

Aged Traditional Tie Guan Yin (Iron Buddha/Iron Goddess)
20 years old, charcoal roasted • 20 年陳 炭焙 傳統觀音

Long before Taiwan's high mountain oolongs invaded the tea scene, China had a long history of oolong tea. Though oolong these days is mostly thought of as fresh, bright green, balled tea, this is a result of the overwhelming  popularity of Taiwan's tea over the past couple of decades. China answered back with a fresh take on Tie Guan Yin, the best of which are considered among the best teas in the world, now, but the traditional Chinese oolongs are much darker, aged and often roasted.

Daniel, from The Chinese Tea Shop, generously sent a sample of one of his premium Tie Guan Yin teas, a twenty year old tea, roasted every three years to enhance its flavour. Being that high mountain Taiwanese oolong and fresh Tie Guan Yin are my favorite teas, I was unsure how much I would fall for an aged, roasted oolong, but I was eager to start brewing and find out.

The first thing I noticed was how small the beads of tea were, about a third or so the size of what I was accustomed to. The colour was also quite unusual, very dark brown with tinges of red, like dried up old cranberries.

I choose one of my best pots, a small, red clay Seo-shi, perfectly shaped for oolong, and began pouring. Perhaps the tea felt my uncertainty because I was rather unimpressed. I found the flavour watery and metallic, like a penny on my tongue. That said, I enjoyed it anyway, it's very rare that I don't, I just wasn't as impressed as I'd hoped.

A few days later, I felt the urge to reach over for the small sample packet again. This time, I chose a much smaller pot, easier to control, and approached the tea with an unbiased mind. Once again, the tea responded accordingly, as I was lifted from my senses by the full, rich, chocolaty flavour of the tea. The mouth feel was lively and full, especially as it slide down my throat. The colour was a deep yet bright reddish orange that lasted through several steeps before slowly fading to a golden hue. The flavour barely faded a bit until the sweetly bitter end.

The energy of the tea was acute but gentle. I felt awake but not shaky, even after several cups. A pleasant warmth emanated from my my full belly, leaving me with the urge to just sit contently admiring the spent leaves, still tightly tangled together.

Reading Daniel's description of this tea just now, I found it interesting that he also describes the taste as being like chocolate. He also mentioned that this tea was grown in Anxi, known for the best Tie Guan Yin farms. This tea was actually bought fromt he farmer's private stock, which, as Daniel describes, took several years of visits to convince the farmer that he was a worthy buyer. This truly is a rare tea and I recommend that anyone who enjoys tea should try it!