Bamboo Shoot Green Tasting Notes

These are the final tasting notes for our six new premium Chinese green teas. Although this tea is not the highest grade we've begun carrying, nor is it anywhere close to being the most famous or popular, it has some interesting characteristics and acts as an excellent example of some of Chinese green teas' greatest qualities. This Zhejiang province tea is so-named
because the dry leaves resemble young bamboo shoots (although I have spoken with a customer who swore that it tastes just like bamboo--an observation I can't really corroborate). Like our other teas, it's brimming with juicy, fresh spring flavor and is beautiful to behold as it steeps. Why is this tea a great example of some of Chinese green teas' greatest qualities? First off, it's a great value--cheaper than some of the more well-known examples we've been featuring, but still a prime example of the quality that can be found in true spring harvest Chinese greens--something a lot of people in the West haven't actually experienced! Second, it's a reminder that not all great Chinese green teas are famous! Sure, Dragonwell and Bi Luo Chun and the others get a lot of publicity, but the fact is that there are countless premium green teas grown in China, all with special characteristics and all worthy of attention. This makes the world of Chinese green tea one that can be explored almost limitlessly, which is a big part of the fun!


On to the tasting notes. Gong fu brewing of this Chinese green was a real treat--the first infusion yielded a light, almost straw-like sweetness that I felt most at the top of my mouth. The second infusion revealed fuller body and a bright fulfillment of the straw/hay-like notes seen in the first. I also tasted a characteristic fresh legume flavor in the aftertaste, which lingered exceptionally well. The third infusion continued to develop, with an even fuller (almost sticky with juice) body and a darker feeling overall. The fourth came up a bit short, showing that, although it's a great value, a higher grade would probably feature a bit more durability. This tea also fared very well in competition brewing--very little bitterness or harshness was brought out by the hotter, longer brewing parameters, although the tea's flavor--which delicately danced between vegetal and sweetly straw-like in gong fu brewing--came off as a bit less subtle and dignified. What really surprised me about all six of these Chinese greens was their (varying) abilities to still taste good after being abused by hot water and too-long of a steep. It just goes to show that high-grade green tea not only tastes more complex, it's generally more flexible as well.


This Bamboo Shoot green tea was an excellent reminder that the quality of spring-harvest Chinese green tea is not only limited to the 10 Famous Teas, and an intriguing incentive to keep exploring lesser-known greens. In September we'll be featuring Indian Black Teas (we extended the Chinese green tea feature because the new teas arrived late), so look forward to a few posts regarding Indian black teas, including tasting notes for a brand new spring flush Darjeeling from the Makaibari estate.


Elliot

Dong Ting Bi Luo Chun

It's my distinct pleasure to introduce the second-to-last of our new Chinese green teas--Dong Ting Bi Luo Chun (also transliterated Pi Lo Chun). This tea is one of my very favorite Chinese greens, and it's the tea that incited my interest and eventual passion for the world of tea--one sip and I was hooked! Bi Luo Chun means "Green Snail Spring," and Dong Ting is the mountain and surrounding region in Jiang Su province where it is produced. Among most "China 10 Famous Tea" lists, Dong Ting Bi Luo Chun is second in popularity only to Xi Hu Dragonwell. Like Dragonwell, Bi Luo Chun originated in a specific geographic area but became so popular that producers throughout China (and even Taiwan) now produce teas in the same style and call them Bi Luo Chun. Just like Xi Hu Dragonwell, though, the Bi Luo Chun from Dong Ting has special flavors and characteristics that simply can't be replicated outside the traditional growing area. I've been on the hunt for a Bi Luo Chun that represents the true Dong Ting characteristics for a while now, and hadn't been successful until I came upon this prime, outstanding example. I've had many nice Bi Luo Chuns that resemble the Dong Ting variety in appearance (tightly-curled buds covered in fluffy white down), but when it comes to flavor they usually end up tasting more generic--fresh, slightly fruity, and delicate, but lacking in the completely unique green tea flavor found in Dong Ting Bi Luo Chun. It brings me great pleasure to offer our customers this great Bi Luo Chun; though this tea is extremely famous in China, its popularity is much less in the West, and it's uncommon to find a Bi Luo Chun in the West that actually exhibits the characteristics that have made this tea so famous in China.

Dong Ting Bi Luo Chun is best photographed up-close--enlarge the above picture to really appreciate the tiny, delicate buds that make up this tea and the fine white down that covers them. Plucking for this Ming Qian tea is an incredibly intricate process, and
after meticulous sorting, the leaf profile is a flawless selection of tiny (around half the size of the buds found in Dragonwell!) buds and leaves. During pan-firing, the leaves are hand-rolled repeatedly until they achieve their signature curled, downy appearance. One pound of finished Bi Luo Chun contains over 6,000 buds! The highest-quality Bi Luo Chun has a predominately dark appearance--grades that feature an overwhelmingly white, fluffy appearance generally aren't as good, though they do play upon some consumers' belief that more down equals higher quality.

Tasting this tea was a real pleasure--the flavor is almost completely unlike any other Chinese green tea, and the leaves' transformation after contact with water is pretty dramatic as well. Once they're wet, the leaves spring back to their original bud-leaf form and take on a vibrant green hue. Gong fu brewing is ideal for Dong Ting Bi Luo Chun, because the tender leaves are particularly delicate and can be shocked by very hot water. Some sources suggest dropping the leaves into the water, rather than vice versa. I'm not sure why this is--if forced to guess, I'd say it's because the leaves are rather dense and they usually stay at the bottom of the brewing vessel (while most green teas have a tendency to float); dropping the leaves into the water might make for more even brewing and easier expansion. In my experience, though, it doesn't make much of a difference in flavor.

The first infusion produced an ethereal, medium-bodied cup. The first thing you'll likely notice about Dong Ting Bi Luo Chun is its rich, creamy, slightly fruity flavor. This flavor was elegantly present in the first infusion and tasted invigoratingly fresh. In the second infusion, this characteristic became even fuller, making for a luxuriously rich mouthfeel and hearty polish. The fruity notes became more prominent and the liquor's appearance became very cloudy (another trademark characteristic of Bi Luo Chun) from the down on the buds. The third infusion revealed more change in flavor and the richness took on a slightly woody, soothing characteristic. By the fourth infusion, the leaves' richness tapered and what remained was a smooth, refreshing green flavor with a lingering peach-like aftertaste. It would be reasonable to expect up to five or six good infusions from this tea.

Competition infusion was a bit surprising; hotter water and a longer steeping time didn't make the tea nearly as bitter or astringent as I expected (considering some of my past "mis-brewing" experiences with Bi Luo Chun). Still, though, competition infusion produced a much less delicate or enjoyable liquor, and the the richness that came across in layered stages during gong fu brewing was more of an all-at-once flavor explosion.

Overall, this Dong Ting Bi Luo Chun is a must-try because its flavor profile is completely different from most Chinese greens, which often share very similar general characteristics. It's also a must-try for anyone who has tried other, lower-grade, "High Mountain," or other non-Dong Ting Bi Luo Chuns; it's another experience entirely! This final close-up is a fantastic reminder of what a startling change the leaves go through as they are infused.


Elliot

High Mountain Dragonwell Tasting Notes

In the introductory Dragonwell post, I neglected to mention anything about its processing. In reality, it's the processing that makes it possible for a non-Xi Hu tea to call itself "Dragonwell." Like most green teas, the best Dragonwell is plucked pre-Qing Ming, and the leaf selection is one bud and two leaves. After a very brief withering, Dragonwell leaves are transported to extremely skilled tea masters who will fire them in woks. This firing includes a brief "kill green" step that kills the leaves' enzymes, preventing them from oxidizing. Further firing is designed to reduce the leaves' moisture content and freeze them into their trademark, flat, needle-like shapes. This is all done by hand--the tea master presses the leaves with his hands (tea masters are usually male), and it takes a lot of experience to know by touch that the temperature of the leaves is hot enough to accomplish the needed process. The masters also practice specific hand movements, gently moving the leaves around to prevent them from overheating at any time (a few seconds' failure to do this can result in the types of flawed Dragonwell that are often commonplace in the West).


The High Mountain Dragonwell we've started carrying is a great, representative example. In the above picture, you can see the leaves' trademark flat, needle shape. You can also see just how narrow they are (look at the ones in the scoop). A whiff of the dry leaves reveals a perfume of nutty, spring-like freshness. As usual, I tried this tea gong fu style and also using longer, hotter competition brewing parameters.

Gong fu brewing yielded tasty results--the first infusion produced a cup that was very light in color, but immediately coated my mouth after sipping. This experience definitely reminded me of our new organic Yellow Mt. Mao Feng--fresh, juicy, and active development through the aftertaste. This tea has a fuller body, however, and lingering beneath that sweetness is an enticing hint of the trademark nutty Dragonwell flavor. This body and nutty aroma/flavor increased in the second and third steepings. As you can see in the picture, as soon as the water hits the leaves, they spring to life--bright emerald and jade green, like they're straight off the bushes. This freshness is key. Astringency didn't become apparent until the third steeping, and only in gentle, non-distracting amounts. By the fourth steeping, the sweetness began to ease out, though longer steeping times could definitely push this Dragonwell to 5 or 6 juicy infusions. More patience than I was expecting! How does this High Mt. Dragonwell differ from the usual Xi Hu variety? With a Xi Hu Dragonwell, I would expect more complexity, probably a stronger exhibition of the chestnut flavor, and more interesting development between infusions. Nonetheless, this High Mt. Dragonwell is a good all-around representation of what Dragonwell is all about, with more than enough complexity to make it an excellent value that can be enjoyed every day.

Competition brewing was an interesting experience--a moderate amount of bitterness came through, and only a little bit of astringency was present. What surprised me is that the hotter temperature and longer steep time brought out a flavor that was almost completely absent in the gong fu session. It could be that this flavor tastes different when brought out bit by bit (in gong fu), or perhaps that it can only be reached by using hotter water. Either way, this is why brewing a tea a few different ways can occasionally be a surprising and illuminating experience. Check out the wet leaves in this final picture--it's almost hard to believe that the complete, obvious bud-and-two-leaf combination is the same from the dry leaves at the top.


Elliot

Xi Hu Dragonwell

The fourth of our new Chinese greens to be written up is this lovely Dragonwell (long jing). Dragonwell is undisputed as the most famous green tea in China, and it always figures highly in China's "10 Famous Tea" lists. With Dragonwell's fame--which is worldwide at this point--come the usual issues that plague regional teas that gain more and more renown. At this point, many Westerners have heard and tried Dragonwell, but they may still know little of this tea's historical origins or what separates an expensive, premium Dragonwell from a middling one.

Dragonwell gets its name from a specific well in the city of Hangzhou in Zhejiang province. The original Dragonwell tea hails from the West Lake (Xi Hu) region of Hangzhou. The scenic lake is surrounded with foothills and mountains that support the most prized modern Dragonwell gardens, which produce the highest-quality and most expensive Dragonwell that can be found. Over several centuries, Xi Hu Longjing has become so famous that tea producers in Yunnan, Guizhou and Sichuan provinces have begun producing teas in the same style and attempting to pass them off as Xi Hu Dragonwell. Unfortunately, that means that Dragonwell aficionados in the West and elsewhere often have no idea where the tea they're drinking came from, and they may also have never gotten a chance to taste truly high quality Dragonwell. These days, true Xi Hu Dragonwell is often accompanied by government-issued "Anti-Fake" labels designed to prove authenticity. As always, though, there's no substitute for experience and the measured judgment of seasoned taste buds. What does this all mean for you, the average tea drinker?

The best Dragonwell in the world still comes from the 168 square kilometers of protected area in the vicinity of Xi Hu. You can find numerous vendors willing to sell tea with a "Xi Hu" or "West Lake" appellation, but far fewer of them will be willing to provide an anti-fake label or go into great detail about how they managed to provide you with such high quality Dragonwell at a reasonable price. The vendors who provide anti-fake labels and go into the furthest depths describing the origins of the tea are almost always the ones who have nothing to hide. If you are interested in tracking down the real thing, my advice is to try a number of so-called Xi Hu Dragonwells from multiple different vendors who meet the above criteria. By educating your palate, you can learn to base your decisions on sensory experience and taste--the most important criterion! Even if you shell out an arm and a leg for the highest-quality, rarest Xi Hu Dragonwell, if you don't enjoy drinking it and if it tastes like it has flaws, its authenticity means nothing! Once you've tried a few different examples, you'll probably get a good idea of the flavor profile of great Dragonwell--light, active, sweet, with a lingering subtle hint of chestnut-like roundness, and above all, it has to taste fresh! I've had more than a few roasty, dull Dragonwells that were passed off as "West Lake." Today, I consider these experiences "tuition payments" for my Dragonwell education!

In attempting to discover just what Xi Hu Dragonwell really tastes like, I've also discovered something else--not all high-quality Dragonwell necessarily comes from Xi Hu! In reality, it's not really surprising--just like not all high-quality sparkling white wines are produced in the Champagne region of France, there are plenty of amazing Dragonwells produced outside the protected Xi Hu region. I've had a few quite impressive examples, such as "Bai" Long Jing (made from a white tea varietal) and a mouth-watering "Anji" Long Jing, made from the same leaves as Anji Bai Cha, another famous green tea. Neither of these teas was as expensive as Xi Hu Long Jing, but both offered comparable drinking pleasure. Almost as importantly, the vendors selling them made it clear that they weren't Xi Hu varieties!

It's with this general introduction to the frustrating but ultimately delicious phenomenon of Chinese Dragonwell tea that I'd like to introduce our new High Mt. Dragonwell. At this time, we haven't found a good enough supplier of representative, reasonably-priced Xi Hu Dragonwell, but we have managed to do the next best thing--we've sourced a lovely, fresh, delicious, and affordable grade of organic, mountain-grown Dragonwell from South of Hangzhou. This introduction has turned into such a rant that I'm going to call it an introductory article and post the tasting notes for our High Mt. Dragonwell separately. Fortunately, Dragonwell is so famous that you can find a great deal of in-depth info about it on the internet without searching too far, simply by using Wikipedia or searching Google. The more you know, the better you'll be able to find yourself some tea you'll never forget. Consider the forthcoming High Mt. Dragonwell a lengthy step in the right direction!

Elliot