Tea Gatha

A while back, I picked up Thich Nhat Hanh's "Chanting From the Heart", a guide to ceremonies and daily practices from Plum Village. Of course, my favourite part was this short gatha:

Drinking Tea

This cup of tea in my two hands,
mindfulness held perfectly.
My mind and body dwell
in the very here and now.


Preparing tea, especially gongfu cha with great care, is a chance to meet the present moment. A quiet break form the distractions of a busy world. Finding the moment when the water is just right, seeing when the pot has just enough leaves, knowing the perfect moment to pour. Each session, each cup is a unique moment, inviting our focus and appreciation.

the Last Drop...

Fushoushan (Lishan) High-Mountain Oolong • 福壽山 (驪山) 高山烏龍

When I first began learning about Taiwan's high-mountain oolongs at Kkikdageo, it revolved around Lishan (梨山, Pear Mountain) in the central region of Taiwan. So, I was a little confused when I went in one day to replenish my stash and was asked, "Why do you want Lishan oolong? Why not try something different?" The something different was an amazing organic, medium roasted oolong from Taiwan that knocked my socks off, but I still longed for that sweet, floral, light oolong from Lishan that I'd grown to love.

Several times after, I asked if there was any Li-shan oolong in but I was always referred to something else, different types of Ali-shan oolong, usually. I wondered if maybe the market for Li-shan had pushed the price beyond what it was worth, as I'd seen happen with Bilochun. One part-time worker told me that the tea gardens were resting for a few years, but she hadn't been a reliable source for information in previous conversations, so I wasn't sure if it was actually the case, though it sounded reasonable. After that, I just decided to stop asking.

Last week, I dropped by and Prof. Ahn served some incredible high-mountain oolong. It was slightly reminiscent of Tie Guanyin but was certainly Taiwanese. Assuming it wasn't from Li-shan, I asked if it was Ali-shan cha. He explained that it was from Boksu-san, the highest tea garden in Taiwan at 2500 meters. I thought it would be a good time to ask about Li-shan and why they stopped selling Li-shan tea, which lead to a bit of a confusing exchange, until finally, he concluded, "This is Li-shan tea!"

With a pen and paper, he drew a sketch of Li-shan with it's highest peak being Boksu-san, the Korean pronunciation for Fushou-shan (福壽山, which translates roughly as "Blessed Life Mountain, but has the connotations of a life of happiness, luck, and longevity. Anyway, an all-around great name for a tea-producing mountain!). In his opinion, Fushoushan cha is the best high-mountain tea in Taiwan, and I have no trouble believing him.

Though most of our conversation revolved around why my Korean isn't better than it is after all these years, we did get some tea-talk in too. He told me, "After ten steeps, when oolong loses its taste, leave it for a 30 minute steep and it will taste good. Next, an hour and then leave it steeping over night and drink it in the morning." Of course, you should add some hot water after a long steep to really make it better.

I never did get to the bottom of why they went so long without supplying Lishan cha, but I'm excited that it's back and, really, that's all that matters!

Qing Shi (Chime Stone) Teapot • 磬石 茶壺

Qing Shi (Chime Stone) Teapot • 磬石 茶壺
Qìng shí cháhú

A couple of weeks ago, I decided to haul out a seldom used stone pot for a post. It was one of the first Chinese pots I'd bought but it sat unused in the pack row of pots since just a few weeks after I'd bought it. Partially because I seldom drink puer at home compared to other teas and mostly because I've gone overboard in my Yixing collecting and this pot got left in the dust of the fancy zisha clays.

I grabbed it for a change of pace but I'm glad I did because it prompted a fellow tea blogger to request this post. And I'm glad he did because it got me to discover a little more about the pot.

I knew that the density and heat retaining property of the stone made it great for puer. Though I've never seen them use a stope pot at the tea shop, they praised how well it brews puer when I first bought it and again the other night when I asked about it again.

My main question was what kind of stone it is. I was guessing black soapstone or some sort of granite but we had a really difficult time finding a translation of the Korean word for it, 경석 (gyeong-seok). Finally, I was able to find the Chinese characters, 磬石, just as the battery on my phone died. They told me it was a stone used for traditional music but that was as far as we got. At home, I was able to look up 磬石 on my computer and found "qing shi", or "chime stone" in English. It was used to make the chimes of an ancient instrument called the bian qing 編磬, a type of hanging lithophone.

I like the idea of a teapot with a musical connection! It brings together another aspect of life's joy to tea time...

The pot itself I think is a Xishi style, but it also has a bit of an Aladdin's Lamp feel to it with it's pointy spout. It was made in 1990 and holds 120ml (without tea) which makes it perfect for two regular sized Chinese gongfu cups. The workmanship is a little rough, with several tool marks around it. I can appreciate the amount of work that went into it, though, especially with it's polished surface. The inside of the lid was chipped a little when I bought, but it fits snuggly and doesn't drip at all. There's no stamp on the bottom but, hey, can't expect too much! The pot is a bit heavy for its size, but well-balanced and comfortable to pour.

I'd grabbed this for about $35 (35,000 won) back in 2007 but the couple they have left are marked for $100 now. They also have a smaller hexagonal one with a dull finish that's very nice.

Happy Year of the Blue Horse

Happy Chinese New Year!

Today begins the Year of the Blue Horse. This year's element is wood, symbolized by the colour blue, which makes the Blue Horse. According to Chinese astrology, the Blue wooden horse "is ready to help everyone and provide any support." Sounds like a worthy existence to me!

The year of the Blue Horse could be a year of instability and life changes. It is recommended to act deliberately and with sure direction. Good advice for any year, I'd say, but particularly this one. It's said that this will be an auspicious year for many of the animals of the zodiac, not only horses.

Buchun Dawon "Unong Hwangto" Balhyo Cha • 부춘다원 "우농 황토" 발효차

Buchun Dawon "Unong Hwangto" Balhyo Cha • 부춘다원 "우농 황토" 발효차
Buchun Tea Garden "Right-Agricultre Yellow-Ocher" Fermented Tea

Hwang cha, yellow tea (황차/黄茶), is a relatively new tea on the Korean tea market. Kkik Da Geo started marketing it heavily about six years ago, even featuring their own brand. When Prof Ahn first introduced it to me, I wasn't very impressed, though. I didn't let on but, actually, I didn't care for it at all. I was still enthralled with the floral, peachy sweetness of Li Shan oolong and the more savoury, piquant intricacy of hwang cha was lost on me.

It slowly grew on me, as they often served it in the shop, spreading the word, but it wasn't until a few years later, when I'd moved to the countryside and hadn't been back to Seoul for a few months, that I suddenly found my body craving it. Around that time, I happened upon a small tea shop that I've once lived and worked just a few blocks from when I first came to Korea, but had never seen before. Inside, I greeted the owner and she offered me a cup of hwang cha she'd just been brewing and I loved it. It was different than the one I'd had in Kkik Da Geo, a much deeper and richer taste and mouth feel, more calming and less heady. It could come down to it simply being from a different garden, but I also wondered if it had been aged longer than the ones I'd tried in Seoul.

Buchun Dawon (부춘다원), is the garden that this tea came from and Unong Hwangto (우농 황토) is the name of the tea, "Right-Agricultre Yellow-Ocher". "Balhyo Cha" (발효차) is literally "fermented tea" and is interchangeable with "hwang cha" in Korea. The garden is located in Hadong valley, in Jiri Mountain, the heart of Korean tea country. The leaves aren't named like Korean green tea is, but I'm quite sure jung-jak, third flush, leaves are used.

The leaves are long, twisted, and wiry, springing back when I try nudging the longer ones into the pot. They are a very dark, dusty charcoal with hints of brown. A strong, slightly spicy scent of the fermented leaves wafts from the package. After sitting a few moments in the heated pot, the smell intensifies and sweetens. It fills your throat with a sticky, spicy sensation. My mind wanders to childhood memories of my father's garden in late fall, long after harvest, when the leaves and vines of the garden began returning to earth.

Like previous observations, the colour of the brew is also much deeper with this tea; orange, not the bright yellow this type tea is named for. The taste is not easily describable, it's not quite like any other tea. Comparable to Chinese red tea, but bolder. The sweet and bitter of this tea are both present but neither exceeds the other. They balance each other in a savoury blend that reminds me of roast squash. The overall rustic character of this tea is fitting of traditional Korean aesthetic. The last, extended steep does have a predominant sweetness, with a pleasant, flavourful undertone.

The steeped leaves reveal to a muddy-green colour with bright rusty edges and stems. A pleasant warmth has consumed my body, a welcome sensation on a soggy winter morning.