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.

Rou Gui Cha (premium) • 肉桂茶

After first sampling Rou Gui cha at Kkik Da Geo, I was so taken by it that I dreamed that I'd returned to the tea shop with a giant tortuous and loaded its back with as much Rou Gui cha as it could carry (it had a traditional Korean "jigae", an wooden A-frame usually used for carrying wood on your back, customized to fit its shell), then slowly lead it out the door.

Repeating the dream to Prof Ahn, he laughed, then told me that the one I'd tried was medium quality and they'd just received a shipment of top grade Rou Gui cha. If the medium grade Rou Gui was already one of the most expensive teas I'd ever bought ($1.50/g), I figured there would be no way I'd be able to buy the premium one, but to my delight they were packaged in 7 gram portions. It still works out to $2/g, but $14 didn't hurt.

I was very curious how much of a difference there could be between the two grades. The medium grade was already one of the best teas I'd ever had. As I mentioned previously, rou gui is the Chinese word for dried cinnamon bark, and the tea is named after it because the aroma and tingling sensation in your mouth and throat are so similar and the medium grade leaves had this exact sensation.

Intending to make this small sample last as long as possible, I prepared my 25ml Biao Zhun pot that I usually only use for Da Hong Pao. While the pot heated, I admired the leaves. The first thing I noticed is that they were much lighter, with several green and rusty-brown leaves. They reminded me a bit of Phoenix dancong leaves. Transferring them into the warm pot, a beautiful herbal and flower aroma arose which only intensified with a quick rinse. Carefully steeping the leaves for 15 seconds, I took a long whiff of the tea. Already, my mind was blown. A small sip and it instantly knocked all other teas from my mind. There was no other I've had that could compare on any level. I could divide its characteristics into different categories and make isolated comparisons to other teas, but as a whole it stands alone in my experience. The rich, bold sweetness and floral, perfumy bitterness wove themselves together into a seductive, realm-melting spell. It is by far the most amazing tea experience I've ever had.

From what I can tell, the medium grade Rou Gui was produced using the traditional method of a medium oxidization and a heavy roast, whereas these leaves where produced using a newer method of high oxidization and a lighter roast, bring out the spectacular floral aroma.

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.

Phoenix Dan Cong (flower flavor) • 鳳凰單樅花的味道

Phoenix Dan Cong (flower flavor) • 鳳凰單樅花的味道
Fènghuáng dān cōng huā de wèidào

With my first order from The Chinese Tea Shop, Daniel included a sample of Phoenix Dan Cong "flower" flavour. It was much like the lightly fermented Phoenix Dan Cong from Kkik Da Geo, but the leaves looked slightly more brilliant. Bursts of yellow and red in the long, twisted leaves made them seem other-worldly, perhaps grown in the garden of the Jade Palace, where a Phoenix makes its nest.

The rinsed leaves became even more radiant, aflame with vivid hues radiating from the pot. As I continued through each steep, I couldn't resisting admiring the leaves before replacing the lid, possible negatively affect the infusion.

The session turned into an outright marathon with these nutrient-packed leaves. It started off as expected, building an elegant, floral, slightly bitter flavour over the first few infusions until by the fourth, a thick, salty after-taste, characteristic of Phoenix Dan Cong, had build in the back of the throat. After the fifth cup, there was an expected decline in intensity but instead of fading like a cloud of smoke over the next couple of steeps, it kept smoldering on and on until nearly two hours later, after the sixteenth infusion, there was no more room in my belly (or my bladder) for anymore and little left to be extracted from the leaves, even if I weren't about to burst.

The final treat was examining the leaves. I'd never seen leaves like them. Psychedelic-jelly leaves or down feathers left by the departed Phoenix as it fled back to paradise?

Unfortunately, this particular Dan Cong is out of stock at The Chinese Tea Shop, but I'll certainly be trying his others in future orders, and if this one returns, it will be on my list, as well!

Phoenix Dan Cong (orchid flavor) • 鳳凰烏龍蘭花味

Phoenix Dan Cong (orchid flavor) • 鳳凰烏龍蘭花味
Fènghuáng Dān Cōng (lánhuā wèi)

It was a long time before my tea-making skills even began to match that of the folk at Kkik Da Geo. I still have a long way to go but I remember the excitement I felt when I was first able to get eight nice tasting infusions from a single pot, getting passed four was a huge step. Or even getting one great tasting cup, I used to exclaim to my wife, "It tastes like Kkik Da Geo!"

I was so fond of Phoenix Dan Cong that it was the first tea that I began to master. One day, after having a particularly successful Phoenix Dan Cong session, I dropped by the tea house just in time for the start of another pot of Phoenix Dan Cong.

With the taste of my earlier tea still lingering in my mouth, I couldn't wait to sip Mr Ahn's to confirm how similar my technique had become. My arrogance was quickly squashed as I raised the the first cup to my mouth, failing to observe the color and smell and took a sip of tea that that was absolutely nothing, NOTHING like my own.

"This is Phoenix Dan Cong?" I asked. With a grin, as though he knew my mind, he explained that it was a lighter fermentation process, only 25%, compared to the 50% fermentation of the "honey" Phoenix Dan Cong I was accustomed to. The leaves are long and twisted, like the "honey" one, but most similarity ends there. Compared to the "honey" leaves' dark, rusty colour, these are more green with streaks of yellow and hints of cranberry.

This lighter one is said to have an "orchid" fragrance. My first impression was that it tastes like what I'd imagine a lotus flower would [but doesn't] taste. It eventually conjured strong memories of the Tiger Lilies that grow on Lower Mill Road, where I grew up. Having since had green tea that was mixed with orchid blossoms, this tea does have a remarkable orchid flavour.

Mr Ahn recommended filling the pot very full, about 50%, with the young leaves and using cooler water than usual, around 70°C. I've had a poor success rate with this tea, on my own. I tend to land either on the bland or harsh side of the complex, floral textures of the tea Mr Ahn severed, confirming that I do indeed still need much practice!

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.