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!

Tea Seasons

The Far-East is very sensitive in its awareness of food "temperatures". Not the physical temperature of food, but the heating or cooling effect different foods have on our systems. I'm tempted to believe we were aware of this at least once upon a time in the West, with terms like "cool as a cucumber" still surviving and referring to spicy food as "hot". I don't know about anyone else, but I still break into a sweat when I eat spicy food, even after seven years in Korea.

Caffeine is generally hot, though somehow green tea is the only tea that is cool. Puerh tea is known for its ability to keep you warm, and oolong teas range in between. From this, its easy to figure about which teas are best at what times of year.

In early spring, my favourite tea is oolong, especially delicate high-mountain oolong from Taiwan, and in the evening, I'll rotate through my collection of darker traditional Chinese oolongs, such as Phoenix Oolong, our Da Hong Pao. When spring starts heating up, I find myself craving green tea, especially in the morning. This is also the time of year that green tea is harvested, which is nice, because green tea is best at its freshest. I try to use up all of my green tea by summer's end, before they begin to deteriorate. Also, by this time, Chinese oolongs from that spring, have begun to develop their flavours. When the crisp airs of autumn arrive, my craving for green tea disappears, and I start digging out my puerh cakes, which were mostly left untouched during the long, muggy summer months. Puerh is an excellent winter tea, especially if you're going to spend much time outside. At night, a nice aged puerh not only warms you up, but also has a mellow personality. The micro-organism in the tea also help keep you immune system strong through the harsh weather.

There isn't a time of year that I don't drink lots of oolong. Like green tea, high-mountain oolongs and Tie Kwan Yin (Iron Buddha/Iron Goddess of Mercy) tend to loose their fragrance quickly, so I drink them more often in the spring and summer. Traditional Chinese oolong and Taiwan's famous Oriental Beauty, or White Hair tea, depending on what farm it's from, taste better after at least six months. Fittingly, high-mountain oolong and Tie Kwan Yin are also some of the most lightly fermented teas and though they give me the most energy, I don't notice much lasting heat from them.

The only tea I don't drink with any regularity are English black teas. The plants that are cultivated in India and Sri Lanka are slightly different from Chinese ones. They have a higher level of caffeine and I find myself unsteady and with a bit of a headache after drinking them. If you do like them, these teas have quite a lot of heat and are also very good during chilly weather. In China, there are similar types of tea, known as red tea, but I've yet to try them.

A newer development in Korean tea is Balhyo Cha, fermented green tea, also called Hwang Cha, yellow tea. The first time I tried it, I had a similar feeling as black tea, but one day, I found myself craving to try it again and have become a big fan of it. It also has a fair amount of heat and I'll probably be drink a lot of it as the chilly nights creep further across the days.

Shui Pin & Biao Zhun teapots • 水平 ＆ 標準壺

The most important concept in the art of making teapots is 'Shui Pin', 水平. The original meaning is 'water level', as in the tool, but in teapot terms, it is the three point line connecting the tip of the spout, the rim of the teapot's opening, and the vertex of the handle. In terms of function, a pot with good Shui Pin is well balanced when held and pours comfortably. Because of shrinkage of the clay during firing, you can judge a potter's expertise by their ability to produce a nice Shui Pin.

For the first Yixing teapot I ever bought, the tea master at Kkikdageo chose a simple, standard looking pot, which he said was as a good teapot for a beginner. It turns out its Chinese name, 'Biao Zhun' 標準, translates directly as 'standard'. It's an old Early Republic of China Shui Pin design that the Yixing No 1 Factory literally standardized and produced in mass quantity during the 1960's. The highly functional design of the Biao Zhun Shui Pin pots has kept them the standard design. Though different specialized teapots have been designed for different teas, a Biao Zhun Shui Pin is suitable for any tea.

A quick way to check a pot's Shui Pin line is to remove the lid and set it upside down on a flat surface. If the spout, rim, and handle are all touching the surface, then you have a well crafted teapot. Another test is to set the lid so that it is balanced either between the rim and the spout or the rim and the handle. This can be useful when allowing the steam to escape, not to cook the tea, or when leaving the teapot open for drying. To demonstrate this, I've superimposed two photos, with the lid balance on each side.

                

Dragon Well Tea (Long Jing Cha) • 龍井茶

West Lake Dragon Well green tea  ❦  西湖 龍井茶

Of the unofficial "Ten Famous Chinese Teas", Dragon Well is by far the most famous.

The name originates from the town it's produced in, where there is a "dragon well" in which a benevolent dragon once lived. The water in the well is very dense and when lighter rainwater flows into the well, it swirls on top, resembling a dragon. It is possible this natural phenomenon is the origin of the dragon that once lived here, but China also used to have giant, serpent like fish that were known as dragons. So, perhaps there really was a dragon! ^_^

The most recognizable characteristic of Dragon Well tea is the way it is carefully pressed along the inside vein during roasting. The flattened leaves, with long, jagged points are like the shed scales of the tea dragon. Opening a fresh package of Dragon Well fills the space with the sweet, grassy fragrance. The leaves have an olive green hue with yellowish patches on them.

I heat the teapot and drop a couple of heaping scoops in. The sent of the tea intensifies. Generally, a pot should be filled to about a third, but with Dragon Well, it's nice to add even more. Also, green tea usually requires much cooler water, about 70-80ºC, but Dragon Well can handle 90ºC water, provided the first five infusions are kept to five seconds each. Cooler water tends to produce a sweeter tea, but hot water brings out a more complex bitterness. It's the unique boldness of the sweet and intrigue of the bitter, like dew from the dragon's breath, that makes Dragon Well so good.

The tea liquor is yellower than usual for green tea, which usually has more of a jade colour. Looking closely at the surface of the tea, you can make out the little specks of tea hairs. This is good, it means the leaves were picked young and are of high quality.

A true "West Lake" Dragon Well tea, from the town of Hang Zhou, in Zhejiang Province, just South-West of Shanghai, has the best, most complex, long-lasting taste. Though it's much more subtle than an oolong or puerh tea, every once in a while, throughout the day, after drinking this tea, a pleasant reminder of its taste emerged in my mouth.

Like other high quality green teas, when you are finished brewing, the tender leaves can also be eaten

link to The Chinese Teashop:

http://store.thechineseteashop.com/Long_Jing_Dragon_Well_Green_Tea_p/lj-001.htm

I Sketch a Map in a Cup of Tea

Travellers wonder how to reach Cold Mountain.

No road stretches so far; the streams end far below.
Summer ice darkens the grees.
Sunrise labours to burn off the mist.

How did a gray squat thing like me arrive?
I make my journey sitting still. 

- 寒山, Hanshan "Cold Mountain"

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Gong Fu Feng Huang Dan Cong (Phoenix Single Bush), "honey" flavour • 功夫凤凰单枞

❧ Phoenix Oolong, 'Honey' flavour ❧

The first time I tasted Fenghuang Dan Cong, 凤凰单枞, at Kkikdageo (imo, the best tea shop in Korea!), I was amazed by the unique, intense flavour of the tea. Traditionally, Phoenix Oolong is described as having a honey-orchid flavour and is sometimes even called Phoenix Honey Orchid tea, but I also find that it carries the impression of lemon zest bitter over tones.

Kkikdageo's Phoenix Oolong comes from the 600 year old Song Jong, 宋種, trees that were found by a Song dynasty emperor growing on Phoenix Mountain. It is very difficult to find a better Phoenix Dancong. The leaves are between 60-70% fermented and are rolled long and pointy. The colour is very dark brown with reddish tinges. It's preferable to let the leaves age at least six months and are even better after a year or two.

After heating a teapot and dropping a heaping scoop of leaves in, an intense floral aroma comes wafting out from the pot, filling the space with a warm scent, like dried mango, citrus, and honey. I raise the open pot to my nose and take a slow, deep whiff. The overwhelming pleasure immediately stimulates craving, but I put the pot down, return the lid, and let leaves heat a little more, awakening the tea's essential oils.

The way Kkikdageo taught me to prepare Phoenix Dan Cong is with slightly cooler water than usual, about 70-80ºC, 21-27ºF. The temperature affects the balance between scent and taste. Hotter water tends the produce a stronger smell, but a little cooler water develops a deeper taste.

After rinsing the leaves with a quick dousing, I fill the pot once more and let it steep for just a few seconds. From the first steeping, the rich Phoenix leaves produce a strongly flavoured liquor. The colour is clear, bright yellow-brown and the scent is of warm, sharp sweetness, like lemon tart, deep and heavy. A strong, pleasant aftertaste paints the back of the throat as it goes down and the roof of the mouth and gums tingle. There is also a strong acidic sensation on the tongue. The second infusion is a little stronger and less sweet, and the third and fourth are much the same, and by the fifth infusion a slight saltiness appears on the back of the tongue during the aftertaste. The leaves are extremely durable and even after the eighth infusion, there is still strong flavour. But, eventually, the Phoenix takes flight, leaving a faint whiff in the breeze, and the leaves become an empty nest.

Even long after finishing this tea, the taste clings in the mouth, especially on the back of the tongue and in the throat, emerging unexpectedly, but pleasantly, throughout the day.

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