17-Year-Old Gong Ting Pu-erh

Our final "new" pu-erh is even older--it's a loose pu-erh sold to us as "17-year-old Menghai Dayi Gong Ting Pu-erh."  Like our unwrapped 2003 brick, this tea comes to us without formal packaging or pedigree, so we've got to take its provenance with a grain of salt and pay attention to our senses to determine its quality.  "Gong Ting" refers to the erstwhile tradition of the best teas being gifted to the Chinese imperial court.  Today, it's often used to describe loose cooked pu-erh of the smallest grade.  One look at the leaves of this tea and it seems to be a fair appellation--they're tiny!  The tea seems to be almost entirely composed of buds, too, which range from dark brown to golden in color.  I can see this grade being included in a blended cake, but it's hard to imagine a cake made of leaves this small--it seems like it wouldn't manage to stay together!

2003 Menghai Ripened Brick

                      

Our next "new" pu-erh has actually got some age on it--it's a 250 gram brick from 2003.  Like our '09 7452 cake it's hard to start talking about this one without raising some common confusing aspects of the pu-erh experience.  For starters, the brick is called "Menghai," and as the last notes mentioned, this tea was created in Menghai county, Yunnan province, but not at Menghai Tea Factory.  Secondly, you can see that this cake is a different shape--indeed, it's not the standard 357 gram bing (disc-shaped cake) into which the majority of pu-erh is pressed; it's a 250 gram rectangular brick.  Though this shape is not the #1 norm, it's relatively common and 250g is the standard brick weight.  You may also notice that these bricks have no wrappers (aside from the bamboo wrapper that holds multiple bricks).

New Pu-erh! 2009 Menghai Factory 7452 Recipe

 

It's been quite a while since we've had new ripened (cooked) pu-erh offerings at Miro Tea; a few months ago we sold out of the last of our 2007 Chang Tai Red Crane cakes, and shortly after our 2006 International Tea Expo Memorial cakes disappeared--a lot of customers have asked after the teas, wondering when we'll be restocking them.  Sometimes the unfortunate thing about the aged pu-erh world is that once something is gone, it's really gone--our supplier sold out close to a year ago, so all we have of those two cakes is memories!  Fortunately, though, it's also an opportunity to try some new teas, thanks to our new partnership with Yunnan Sourcing!  We have three new (to us) ripened/cooked pu-erh cakes that are already available at Miro for your tasting pleasure--Jeannie has introduced a couple of them at our weekly tea tastings (Saturdays at 1 pm) and they've gone over quite well.

Charcoal Roasted Dong-Ding

Marching right along, it's my sensory pleasure to introduce one of my personal favorite tea types--Charcoal Roasted Dong-Ding.  Charcoal roasted Dong-Ding has become about as crucial to my everyday survival as Wuyi Yan Cha oolongs, and that's saying something!  Although we've recently had some really nice "contemporary"-style Dong Ding oolongs, I've still been hoping to get hold of some more traditionally roasted (with charcoal, rather than a baking machine) tea.  Though both methods will caramelize a tea's sweetness, a well-done charcoal roast adds both a note of roast as well as a dynamic connection with the earth that just isn't there when a machine is used--surely traditional Chinese medicine would favor traditional charcoal roasting because it adds the element of fire to the tea processing, which contributes balance.  Unfortunately even machine roasting isn't very fashionable right now and judges are choosing greener and greener teas as competition winners.  Combine this with the fact that charcoal roasting is a difficult skill that is being passed down to fewer and fewer tea masters and you can see how a good traditional Dong Ding is becoming harder to find and more expensive. 

 

Let me tell you--it's worth it.  This tea is an excellent example of a lighter charcoal-roasted Dong-Ding: the charcoal note is present in the tea flavor, but it doesn't dominate.  The tea's natural floral notes are still preserved but are made slightly acidic by the roast--the lively acidity is evident in the cup where the tea liquor starts out light orange but darkens quickly as it cools down and interacts with the air.  The brewed leaves don't quite pop open as completely as green oolong, which is another sign of a healthy charcoal roast.  

It's too bad that charcoal roasted Taiwanese oolongs are becoming more difficult to find abroad--it's hard to understand how both green oolong and traditional oolong can't just coexist equally on their respective merits, but popularity ultimately determines the availability of a tea.  For now, at least, we can appreciate the best of both worlds!

Elliot

Experimental Taiwanese "Da Hong Pao"

Here we have an even more unusual tea to continue with our selection of new Taiwanese oolongs.  Yes, you read the title correctly--this tea is billed as Taiwanese Big Red Robe.  But just how close is this tea to Fujian's most famous rock oolong?


My first question encountering this tea was "Which tea plant cultivar was used?"  After all, even in mainland China, there's quite a bit of disagreement as to which plant actually constitutes Da Hong Pao.  Our tea source revealed that the Taiwanese farmer who produced this tea actually used Buddha Hand leaves but processed them in the Da Hong Pao style.  I'm not exactly sure what this means, since I can't call to mind any other examples of Da Hong Pao coming from Taiwan, so it might be that the producer chose the mother of all marketing buzzwords to get people interested in her experimental tea.

Despite its tenuous claims to the title of "Da Hong Pao" this tea is certainly an exceptional experiment.  Though its name conjures ideas of roasted rock oolong, in reality it's closer to the Red Jinxuan we last featured.  I'd describe this tea as even closer to a black tea--the liquor is a deep crimson color and the leaves are even darker green with much more red present.  Compared with the Jinxuan, the liquor has a more present astringency in the finish, toward the back of the mouth.  What really surprised me in comparison with the Jinxuan was this tea's up-front fruity note.  Now knowing it's from the Buddha Hand cultivar, it's easier to understand, but even for Buddha Hand this is almost a punch-like fruitiness.  Apparently the processing includes organic treatment like our Oriental Beauty and Red Jinxuan, so perhaps there is also some leaf hopper effect happening as well.

This is an extremely interesting tea unlike any I've tasted before--we have a very limited quantity, so please stop by soon if you're interested in trying it out.

Elliot

Red Jinxuan Oolong

Our next two teas are major departures from what's become the Taiwanese oolong norm.  First is this Red Jinxuan...oolong?  It's probably accurate to call it an oolong--probably more accurate is the appellation "Hong Shui" which refers to an older style of oolong processing that emphasizes high oxidation and lower roasting.  The party line is that this type of oolong processing has fallen out of fashion, but over the past couple of years I've been seeing more and more hong shui oolongs showing up online and at domestic Taiwan oolong suppliers.  

If you hang around Miro Tea, you've probably already seen or tried a Jinxuan oolong or two--it's become a popular cultivar in Taiwan for its yield and robust, creamy body.  This one's very different from the pellet-rolled, green examples we've had so far.  The leaf shape is almost like Baozhong, but it's pretty clear that the oxidation level is much higher.  The large, twisted leaves are almost black with a bit of light frost on the edges. 

According to our source, Drew, this tea is completely organically grown, like Oriental Beauty, and the leaf hopper insects' bites impart a sweetness into the end flavor.  Tasting the tea, I found it to be unlike the other Hong Shui oolongs I've tried.  It has an astounding mellowness--there is really no astringency to speak of, and the thick body coats the mouth almost immediately.  The flavor develops more after swallowing--it's not as up front as some teas.  The wet leaves are full of grainy notes and, when inspected, are fairly uniformly dark green (as opposed to our Oriental Beauty, which has that iridescence to it).  Still, there is a bit of redness on the stems and leaf edges that show the very high oxidation that this tea underwent.  With its mellowness and closeness in characteristics to black teas, I think this is a tea that might go down well with fans of our China Vintage Special black tea.

Elliot

Three Other New(ish)-longs

Before we continue with the final three new-new-longs, it's time for a quick introduction of three we've been remiss in mentioning.  These teas, also supplied by Drew, have been enjoyed by Miro customers since mid-November.  They include two Dong-Ding oolongs and a High Mountain Baozhong.

The first Dong-Ding is called "Xiao Ban Tian," and it's the greener of the two.  This tea is an excellent option for those interested in branching out from our Lishan and Alishan oolongs; it's floral and full-bodied with less of a vegetal note than the Alishan and a bit more of a light fruity note than the Lishan.  As you can see in the above picture, the tightly-balled leaves have a nice coat of down, indicating they were plucked quite young.  As processing fashions change, I'm hard-pressed to identify what exactly defines a Dong-Ding as a Dong-Ding--I usually expect them to be more oxidized and roasted, but this is a solid high mountain oolong.  According to Drew, "Dong-Ding" can be fairly applied to any teas from the Lugu region, which clears up the confusion on the appellation but still leaves us unsure what to expect a Dong-Ding to taste like until we actually try it!

Oriental Beauty

Certain teas are almost always identified by one easy-to-remember umbrella name, like Dragonwell or Tieguanyin (Iron Goddess of Mercy).  There may be a more specific appellation to describe the tea plant cultivar or specific growing location, but the common name is always there.  Today's tea definitely doesn't fall into that category--alternately known as Bai Hao, Dongfang Mei Ren, Oriental Beauty and Fancy Formosa, it can be tough to tell just which name is "correct."

What's indisputable, though, is that Oriental Beauty (we're using its most common English handle) is a Taiwanese oolong like very few others.  Looking at the tea's close-up portrait above, you might even mistake it for a Darjeeling with its silvery tips and the leaves' rusty hue.  Indeed, the resemblance is remarkable (though a true tea sleuth would likely point to the presence of stems and the by-and-large unbroken condition of the leaves as evidence that it's not Darjeeling).  Still, the comparison rings true in some ways--the reddish color of the leaves gives away this tea's high oxidation--it's sometimes as high as 80%, which is treading mighty close to black tea territory.  It's also often unroasted and dried using an extended withering process.  Perhaps most interestingly, Oriental Beauty producers actually encourage a parasitic "leaf hopper" insect to bite the tea leaves--the insects' saliva produces a chemical response in the leaves that is absolutely crucial to achieving its hallmark flavor characteristics. 

Winter High Mt. Alishan Oolong

Introducing our next "new"-long, this is a High Mountain Alishan oolong.  It's been a while since we've had a fresh Alishan (our last one was the darker "Snowy" Alishan).  It's nice to have another option for those seeking a classic green high mountain alternative to our popular Lishan.

What's the difference? Well, for starters the teas come from different mountains--Mt. Li in North/Central Taiwan, and Mt. Ali in Southwestern Taiwan, respectively.  If push comes to shove, Lishan is probably the most famous tea-producing mountain in Taiwan (at least, the teas grown in the Da Yu Ling area of Lishan command some of the highest prices to be found on the island), but both mountains have distinctive characters.  To my palate, Alishan oolongs tend to be just a bit bolder in flavor--bright and forthright but occasionally finicky when it comes to brewing without making a slightly bitter cup.

Oxidized Buddha Hand Oolong

Although we've been quiet on the blogosphere, there are a lot of things happening at Miro Tea, not least of which include a lot of cool events and fun changes around the store.  On the tea end, things have been exciting.  Our source in Taiwan has supplied us with a clutch of really impressive teas--both classic Taiwan oolongs as well as some very interesting and more unusual teas, some of which I've never even heard of before!  As we introduce the new teas to the staff, first impressions are as important as ever--to one of our more poetic team members, the fresh oolongs have become known as "new-longs!"  Over the next few weeks we'll be featuring these on the blog with tasting notes and descriptions.  Of course, they'll be available in the store by the cup and pot on our enduringly-popular seasonal oolong menu, and if you get in early enough you might be able to snag a few ounces to take home!

For starters, our Oxidized Buddha Hand oolong has been restocked, and this time it's a winter harvest.  This was probably my favorite of the last batch of oolongs we received from Taiwan.  Buddha Hand (pinyin Fo Shou) oolong has personally intrigued me for quite a while with its enormous leaves and inimitable fruity notes.  This tea is quite a pleasure to drink because the higher oxidation (which tends to bring out fruity or generally sweet notes) has amplified the Buddha Palm cultivar's natural flavor profile into a rich autumnal (forgive the strange word choice, but it just seems to fit the way this tea tastes) fruity-floral combination.  Compared with our "Green" Buddha Hand oolong (which, at the time of this writing, is still in stock), the body is a fair bit thicker.  Although this tea may not develop quite as much over repeated brews, the oxidized taste is endearing and so unlike most Taiwanese oolongs that it doesn't really matter--it's nice to just bask in the unique flavor.

Rou Gui (Wuyi Cassia) Tasting Notes

Welcome to 2009! To finish off the recent series of Wuyi Yen Cha posts, I've got tasting notes for our Rou Gui (which we call Wuyi Cassia). I'll do my best to keep this post a little less long-winded than the Da Hong Pao tasting notes, but sometimes nerdy tea enthusiasm exceeds my restraint! As I mentioned in the introductory post, Rou Gui is both a "tea type" and a genetically unique cultivar of the tea plant. Although Rou Gui isn't one of the four famous Wuyi oolong cultivars (known in Chinese as the Si Da Ming Cong--Da Hong Pao, Shui Jin Gui, Tie Lo Han and Bai Ji Guan), it is certainly one of the more common varieties and is often served at restaurants alongside Shui Xian as a popular table tea. In spite of its popularity, it's still very much possible to find premium examples that stand up to elite gong fu grades of the Si Da Ming Cong.


The dry leaves aren't too different in appearance from those of the Da Hong Pao--nice big, whole leaves. They're perhaps a bit darker with a little more contrast between the frosting and leaf color. Smelling the leaves after the first infusion, I notice that the roast seems a bit more dominant than with the Da Hong Pao. Similarly to the other tea, though, the roast in the aroma diminishes after a couple of infusions. If I had to use one word to contrast this tea with the Da Hong Pao, I'd use "darker." The heavier roast is immediately apparent, and the characteristic Rou Gui flavor takes slightly more effort to appreciate. It's there, though--"Rou Gui" is often translated as cinnamon or cassia--as the roasting character diminishes over the 2nd and 3rd infusions, a delightfully dark spiciness emerges. This tea's acidity is nowhere near as pronounced as the Da Hong Pao's is, and the body tends to be a bit fuller as well. Later infusions produce a balanced but fading combination of roast and spice, with the expected astringency getting my mouth watering. Compared with the Da Hong Pao's high and penetrating notes, this Rou Gui's full, round and dark bottom makes for a pleasant contrast.


Examining the spent leaves shows some similarities with the Da Hong Pao--leaves alternate between very dark to slightly greener, but there are many large examples to be found. Our staff's reaction has been split between these two teas--to me, that's a sign that they're both good! Personally, my tastes gravitate a bit toward the slightly lighter roast (you can see below that the Rou Gui's leaves are more blistered than the Da Hong Pao's), but the full body and darkness of the Rou Gui makes for an excellent and comforting winter warmer!


Elliot

Da Hong Pao (Big Red Robe) Tasting Notes

At long last, I'm here to present tasting notes for our two new Wuyi Yen Cha. I started introducing this tea in an earlier post, so I'll only add a bit more info with regards to its origins. As I mentioned in that earlier post, Da Hong Pao is both a "finished" tea type and a genetically unique cultivar of tea plant. However, the history and origins of the Da Hong Pao cultivar are labyrinthine and hotly-debated. Guang at Hou De Asian Art has written two extremely illuminating articles about the origins of the Da Hong Pao cultivar (Part 1, Part 2), so I won't go too in depth regarding the history. Suffice to say that, yet again, there are plenty of tea merchants in China who are willing to pass off cheaper, often inferior Wuyi oolongs as "Da Hong Pao" and selling them to ill-informed customers at much higher prices than they deserve. This problem is compounded by the fact that many skilled Yen Cha tea masters have different opinions about which cultivar is proper for making a Da Hong Pao. This makes Da Hong Pao shopping very difficult for consumers, especially in the West. After trying as many "Da Hong Paos" as possible, I'm beginning to gain a modest understanding of Da Hong Pao's unique flavor profile. To me, Da Hong Pao is typified by a fruity, floral flavor that comes across as very "high," and acidic (i.e. lively and stimulating in the mouth). Of course, these characteristics can vary based on the innumerable other factors involved in processing, but the best Da Hong Paos I've tried all seemed to exhibit this flavor while the others tasted like overly-roasted generic Yen Cha. Outside of searching for Da Hong Pao's unique flavor, choosing a good example is a matter of meeting the criteria that all Yen Cha should meet--balance between roasting and tea flavor, mouthfeel and body, and aftertaste.


Enough tea geeking--let's move on to the task at hand: tasting our new Da Hong Pao! As you can see in the above picture, the leaves are large, complete, and dark in color with a light frosting. Large, complete leaves is a good sign--it means the tea has been handled with care and will be much more forgiving when brewing (broken leaves make strong, astringent and bitter tea much more easily). After loading up the gaiwan and pouring off the first quick infusion, the leaves smell incredible--the roast comes through first in the aroma, with a gentle, warm charcoal note which is followed (especially if you inhale deeply) by a pointed touch of flowers. As the infusions wear on, the roasted aroma backs off quite a bit--by the second and third infusions, the floral and caramel notes begin to rival and overpower the roasted ones. The flavor of the initial infusions is less dominated by the roast. At the first brief steep, it's nice and light, with a bit of acidity edging in. Later, the acidity comes into its own, combining both aspects of fruit and flowers in a way that is unique to Da Hong Pao.

The final infusions begin to taper off in strength at just the right time--right when you're ready for the tea to back off. As you can see in the picture the infused leaves are a sight to see! Even with multiple infusions, the leaves of a good Yen Cha will retain their stripe-rolled shape, never fully unfurling without help. The unfurled leaf on the left is MONSTROUS. By far the largest leaf I've found in so far in the entire batch--it measured 4 inches! Also of note is the difference in coloration--this tea's heavy oxidation leaves some of the leaves greener while some take on a darker, brownish color. As you can see in the final picture of the gaiwan, by the end of a brewing session, the leaves are positively overflowing. In my experience, a lot of leaves is the best way to ensure a long session with a Yen Cha, but short steeps are a must. If you only want a couple of good steeps out of your tea, reducing the leaf weight and lengthening the infusion time will also provide very good results with this tea.


Finally, I'll draw attention to this close-up picture of one unfurled leaf. In the macro picture (please excuse my camera's quality) you'll see some bubble-like blisters on the surface of the leaf. This sort of appearance is evidence of the tea's roasting level--lighter-roasted Yen Cha will show pretty much no bubbles on the leaf surface, while "traditional" Yen Cha will sometimes be covered in such blisters. If flavor alone isn't enough to accurately reveal to you the tea's roast level, inspecting a nice whole leaf is usually pretty reliable. "Traditional," (in the parlance of Wuyi Yen Cha) means heavy roasting. As I understand it, most Yen Cha used to be heavily roasted, and lighter and lighter roasts have only more recently come into fashion. Today, "tradional" connotes a high roast. If the tea's good, though, you should be able to taste and smell much more than just charcoal without trying too hard! I would consider this Da Hong Pao to be a Traditional-style Yen Cha, though its firing wasn't extreme. Hopefully sometime in the future we'll be able to offer a lightly-baked Da Hong Pao--the difference can be very educational and can be illuminating for entry-level Yen Cha drinkers who might think all Wuyi oolongs taste the same! Stay tuned for tasting notes for our Wuyi Rou Gui and, more importantly, have a happy new year!


Elliot

Chang Tai 2006 Tea Expo "Memorial" Hun Tie 100 gram mini cake

This cute little mini-cake is 100 g, the same weight as a standard "bird's nest" or tuo cha, and about 250 grams smaller than your average pu-erh bing. As the attractive wrapper (I love the texture and slight transparency of the paper) says, this tea was produced by Chang Tai factory to commemorate (Ji Nian) of the 2006 tea culture expo in Taipei, Taiwan. The Chang Tai blender reportedly blended this cake from the best of 150 loose pu-erh leaves provided by the factory, and the aim was to reproduce the characteristics of the legendary "Hun Tie" (iron cakes) from the 1950's. While it's difficult to imagine how a blender could know (much less reproduce) how the 1950's cakes tasted and smelled when they were young, there's no question that this is high-quality pu-erh.

It's evident from viewing the exposed cake that it's very well-compressed, which happens to be one of the defining characteristics of "iron" cakes. There's a healthy proportion of buds on the surface, and also plenty of dark, juicy-looking leaves. One of the more difficult things about iron cakes and machine-molded cakes in general is that it's more difficult to break into the cake for brewing without breaking or damaging all of the leaves. The fact that this is a mini cake compounds this difficulty, since it's thinner and smaller than your average bing. Using a small pick meant for tuo chas with care, though, I was able to break the cake into relatively whole and manageable pieces, using an intact specimen for tasting. This pu-erh is so well-made that it's a shame it's only available in mini cake size; I'd love to own large cakes of this tea.

The aroma itself is a complex puzzle, shifting between thick, date-like fruit smells to intoxicating wet flowery notes. There's no smokiness and no off or dirty smells, and the shifting nature of the aroma is a really good sign. I found the elements of the aroma variously popped up in the liquor, which complemented them with a hearty but subdued bitterness, a smooth finish, and a nice thick, viscous mouth feel. This isn't arbor pu-erh, but it's about as good as plantation pu-erh can hope to be. The only real drawback is the mini-cake form, which isn't really necessarily a drawback; the small cakes are extremely affordable, especially for someone who's interested in experimenting with aging pu-erh but doesn't want to break the bank. The unfurled leaves are in pretty nice shape (provided you can get them free without breaking them)--some large examples for full body as well as healthy buds and fledgling leaves for light sweetness. As far as Chang Tai leaves are concerned, they're much better than the average.

As with all of our pu-erhs, we're offering this tea in 1 oz samples as well as in whole cakes, and both are 15% off through the end of November, making this cake an even better deal.

Elliot

2004 Chang Tai "Yi Wu Zheng Shan" 400 gram cake Tasting Notes

This 400 gram cake is one of the older cakes we offer at Miro, and tasting it soon after tasting 2007 and 2006 cakes makes its slight aging very apparent. Chang Tai used to be a pretty small factory but upgraded to a substantially larger "Manufacturing Group" in 2005. Still, its product rivals and often bests many of the huge, well-known pu-erh factories like Menghai and Xiaguan, especially in the "wild leaves" department. This cake makes no claims about being exclusively old growth, but it does contain a healthy proportion of semi-wild "old plantation" leaves from Yi Wu mountain (hence the name, "Yi Wu Original Peak").

Like the 2006 Chen Guang-Ho Tang cake, this cake is stone-molded. Here, though, it's even more apparent; as you can see in the picture, the edges of the cake are pretty loose, and leaves are already coming off without any effort. Smelling and visually observing the cake, the four years of aging are very apparent to me--more so than the liquor will eventually reveal. I can already smell that "forest floor" camphor and earthy musk that is evidenced so well by well-aged pu-erhs, which means this cake is on the right track for some future delicious aged sheng pu-erh. You can also notice the slight changes that have taken place in the leaves' appearance; they're a bit darker, and many of the buds have changed to a slightly more golden hue.

Taste-wise, this tea reveals its age less. The liquor is a dark gold, though, and its aroma is full of rich, woody, earthy pu-erh character. With a sip from the first infusion, it's apparent that the tea exhibited a slight smokiness when it was newborn, but it's swiftly retreating and is absent from later infusions--good news that this tea won't be one that still tastes like smoke when it's over 10 years old! There is still a formidable bitterness in this tea's finish, but the aftertaste develops sweetness with every breath. There's a lot of debate about which ages better--strong pu-erh or subtle, complex pu-erh--and if you're of the "strong" persuasion, this one is certainly a contender for a good aging choice. I'm of the belief that both types of tea have plenty of potential, though they'll very likely produce aged pu-erhs with very different temperaments. Surely, though, abundance and strength of flavor in a young pu-erh is unlikely to disappear over the years and result in a weak aged pu-erh. Either way, this tea fulfills a couple important criteria for pu-erh aging potential: 1) It's complex enough to be appreciated now, despite its acceptable "young" characteristics, so it will likely be complex as an aged tea. 2) It already shows signs of aging, which means that it should continue on the promising path it's on if properly stored.

The brewed leaves of this tea reveal something about Chang Tai's method that seems to happen with many of their teas--many of the leaves are fragmented or broken, with sometimes tattered edges. This may partially account for the tea's powerful taste, and time may prove that the aged flavor of these cakes will be enhanced by the added strength this imparts. Next up in the tasting note series is another Chang Tai offering.


Elliot

Tasting Notes: Autumn 2006 Chen Guang-He Tang "Yi Wu Yeh Cha" 357 gram cake

The second pu-erh to be featured in November's celebration of pu-erh tea, this sheng (raw, or uncooked) pu-erh is an excellent tea to contrast against the 2007 Xi-Zhi Hao 8582 cake from the last entry. This is primarily because the 8582 cake is a spring production and this "Yi Wu Yeh Cha" is fall-harvested. Whereas the XZH 8582 is a lively, energetic and potentially fierce tea, this pu-erh is mellow, round and a fair bit more difficult to over-brew.

Chen Guang-Ho Tang is a relatively small pu-erh production group that has been around since the late 90's. It's comparable to Xi-Zhi Hao insofar as they both provide premium, often ancient tree and famous mountain pu-erh, though Xi-Zhi Hao probably has the edge in terms of prestige and reputation since they put out some of the most exclusive and super-premium pu-erh available. This tea comes from one of the most famous mountains in Yunnan, China's pu-erh-producing province--Yiwu or Yi Wu Mountain. As a side note, since famous-mountain pu-erh leaves are in such high demamd, some less scrupulous pu-erh manufacturers will sometimes label their cakes "Yi Wu" or "Lao Ban Zhan" when only a small percentage of the leaves (if any) came from said mountain. One of the better aspects about premium producers like Chen Guang-Ho Tang and Xi-Zhi Hao is that they have excellent street cred when it comes to the accuracy of their tea leaves' origins. Regardless, taste will always be the deciding factor--with even a limited amount of experience, it can be relatively easy to pick out the harshness, lack of complexity, and lower durability of plantation leaves that dominate so-called "famous mountain" cakes. This cake's inner ticket declares that the leaves are a blend of three different Yi Wu regions, so we can expect varied characteristics, but (hopefully) a common denominator of big, healthy-looking leaves and buds and not too much harshness.

Gong fu brewing of this pu-erh reveals a somewhat rare experience in young sheng pu-erh: a tea that's actually enjoyable to drink when it's young. At two years old, this tea hasn't had much time to age. Nevertheless, it's full of dark, dried fruit, woody and mushroomy flavors along with hints of that characteristic earthy character that is present in even the most flowery young shengs. There's no smokiness whatsoever and the bitterness is slight and it blends well with the tea's other characteristics. The body is full with little astringency, though there is room for aging improvement in its smoothness. Compared to the XZH 8582 cake, this autumn production is rounder, mellower and darker, with few of the high and potentially piercing notes of the spring cake. Both are unmistakably young pu-erhs, though, which makes comparing them an excellent and instructive exercise in the difference between spring and autumn pu-erh leaves, which both seem to have very particular strengths.

The spent leaves of this cake seem to confirm their origin--there are few broken or ragged leaves and plenty of complete leaf sets with large, strong-looking veins and thick but not brittle stems. It's also worth noting that this cake is stone-molded, which is different but not necessarily better than the modern process of machine-molding. Stone-molded cakes tend to be more irregularly-shaped than machine-molded ones, and they also tend to be compressed more loosely, which can lead to faster aging (because the inner leaves have more exposed surface area). Overall, tasting these two cakes is an exciting endeavor, especially when contemplating what will happen to the flavors of each as the cakes slowly age.

Elliot

2007 Xi-Zhi Hao 8582 Sheng Pu-erh 400 gram cake

November is over half over and I've yet to announce the tea of the month to our online audience. We're celebrating pu-erh tea this month. All of the usual benefits apply--we've got informational handouts and samples in the store, and all of our pu-erh stock is 15% off for the month. If you're unfamiliar with pu-erh, you can check out the rather lengthy introductory article I compiled in May. A Google or Wikipedia search will also deliver some good results--pu-erh is becoming quite a craze in the West (it's been extremely popular in Asia for at least 10 years though) and there are a lot of enthusiastic bloggers and hobbyists online. In a market saturated by the mediocre, cheaply-made pu-erh that has become commonplace since pu-erh's recent surge in popularity, we're happy to offer several choices that don't have much trouble distinguishing themselves from your average teas! I'll hopefully be able to present several of our pu-erh choices before the month is over, starting with this 2007 Xi-Zhi Hao 8582 sheng (raw pu-erh) cake.

Xi-Zhi Hao (Double Happiness) is a premium pu-erh line produced by San Ho Tang pu-erh factory. The owner, Mr. Chen, began researching the historical pu-erh production methods in the 1990's and began producing his own pu-erh at the end of the decade. Today, Xi-Zhi Hao stands as some of the highest-end (quality-wise and price-wise) pu-erh available on the market. Essentially what makes this type of tea high-end is the leaves--since the late 90's there has been a surge of interest from pu-erh collectors and producers in using "ancient," "wild," "arbor" or "tree" pu-erh leaves (as opposed to plantation leaves, which can vary in quality). These leaves come from either completely wild tea plants or from plants that were once cultivated but have grown wild for decades. Generally the plants are very large (more tree-like than bush-like), and the leaves are sized to match; vigorous, bold and healthy-looking, with bold but complex flavor and high propensity for successful aging. Leaves of this type come from very specific (usually mountainous, like "Yiwu," for example) areas in Yunnan province, China, and there are only so many leaves to go around (hence the high price tag). Manufacturers will often label their tea cakes with these words when they only have a small percentage of the old, famous-mountain leaves, but the Xi-Zhi Hao brand has a good reputation for quality and reliability with their "ancient tree" pu-erhs. In addition to their heralded super-premium pu-erhs, they have also produced some outstanding upper-mid-level pu-erhs. This cake falls into that category--high quality leaves which are mostly from plantations around Menghai county. The title "8582" refers to the classic Menghai Tea Factory blend recipe, which was provided to Xi-Zhi Hao by an ex-Menghai factory master blender. Menghai has been a quality-standard pu-erh brand for decades, and this blend ("85" for 1985, when the recipe was invented, "8" for the "level" or "grade" of leaves used, and "2" meaning Menghai Tea factory) is designed to recapture the pu-erh quality that existed when this recipe was new.

You can see in this picture that the cake is composed of nice-looking whole leaves, and there are plenty of silvery buds visible on the surface, which lets you know that this should be a pretty sweet-tasting pu-erh. Since the cake is very young, there is plenty of contrast between the buds and leaves. This will change in a few years as the buds gain a more golden coloration. The cake is well-compressed; not as tightly as an "iron cake"-styled pu-erh, and not as loosely as a traditionally stone-molded cake. Just opening the wrapper, the aroma floats gracefully out and fills the room.

For tasting, I gently pried off a small chunk (the fewer broken leaves, the mellower and less harsh the tea will brew). 3.8g in a 100ml teapot, with a 20 second rinse to open the leaves up a bit. After that, it was 30-20-30-40-60. Not overly methodical for gong fu brewing, but good enough to catch some of this tea's intricacies. This is a spring-harvested tea, and it tastes that way. It's simply brimming with energy--after a rinse and first infusion, the aroma really dominated our tasting area. Floral, fruity and slightly woody/earthy tones permeate the complex aroma, and depending on when and how deeply you inhale, it can change completely. The liquor is a deep golden color with good clarity. Flavor-wise, this tea has multiple strengths. First is complexity: all of the elements from the aroma are present in the liquor, as is a potent sweetness. Second is hui gan, or "returning aftertaste." The sweet finish pervades long after the tea is gone, which is a very desirable characteristic in a pu-erh. Also notable are a couple absent aspects: smokiness--commonplace among low-end pu-erhs--is virtually zero, which means this pu-erh was processed very carefully, with delicate care during the firing, drying and steaming processes. The other characteristic--bitterness--is somewhat muted and mostly transforms to sweetness in the aftertaste. Bitterness in a young sheng pu-erh is almost universal and is not regarded as a flaw, and it's nice to see that it fits comfortably among this pu-erh's other attributes.

Having tasted some of Xi-Zhi Hao's single-region pu-erhs, I can say that this 8582 recipe cake could be described as less refined, but to me it's also somewhat more interesting--rather than leaves with uniform character, this cake is a blend of different-sized and styled leaves (see the picture below for more evidence of this), which gives it a shifting, active, dynamic, even clamourous(!) complexity that isn't necessarily present in the super-premium cakes. For personal drinking I'd probably use more leaves, but not too much more--this cake can be extremely potent and aggressive if you use too many leaves (partly because it's a spring, plantation cake and partly because it's so young), and I think it tastes best and most complex when it's toned to a more light, floral and ethereal tea like I cupped it today. I'm very excited for this cake's aging potential; the original 8582 Menghai cakes are tasting really good these days, and I can see this cake's complexity becoming really nice as it mellows out a bit. We have this cake available for in-store drinking as well as bulk--1 oz samples or entire 400 gram cakes. With all pu-erh stock 15% off for the month, now is a great time to snag one. Stay tuned for more tasting notes!

Elliot

Nilgiri Tea and Corsley Estate Nilgiri

The final major tea-producing region of India is Nilgiri. Unlike Assam and Darjeeling teas, which are both grown in the North-Eastern arm of India, Nilgiri tea is grown in the South-Eastern point in the hills of the Nilgiris district of Tamil Nadu province. The history of tea in the Nilgiris district is somewhat less robust in comparison with that of Assam and Darjeeling, but the region is indisputably important to India's tea production and the teas produced there retain a range of recognizably "Nilgiri" flavor characteristics. At least half of all tea grown in Nilgiri is exported, and the vast majority of tea is grown by small farms and sold to separately-owned factories for processing. Nilgiri tea's highland-grown leaves produce dark amber liquor and characteristics that are roughly describable as between those of Assam and Darjeeling.

We carry two Nilgiri blacks at Miro Tea; I chose our Corsley Estate Nilgiri--like both Darjeelings and Assams, each Nilgiri is usually named for the estate of its origin. As you can see in the picture, this tea has the largest, most complete leaves of the three teas featured so far. A larger leaf profile is generally referred to as "Orange Pekoe" (pronounced peck-oh), usually abbreviated OP, or BOP if the leaves are more "Broken." A piece of leaf stem is also visible in the dry leaves--the occasional by-product of machine processing and sorting.

After I added hot water to the leaves, a powerful woody, honey-like aroma emerged from the cup. Tasting the liquor, I found a very comforting blend of honey sweetness (reminiscent very much of honey's distinct flavor, as opposed to the experience of consuming honey) and a mellow, fleeting plum-like overtone. My overall instinct was to contrast this tea with the Satrupa Marangi Assam--this Nilgiri posesses a thinner liquor with a lighter mouth feel, none of the sharp notes of the Assam (much more rounded), and a noticeable drop in complexity. I also noticed that the tea's aftertaste was really present on the breath, but wasn't nearly as lasting as that of the Darjeeling I tasted, disappearing quickly until being renewed by another sip. This is a really pleasing tea to drink, but doesn't really posses the kind of depth that necessitates close attention. These characteristics make Nilgiris great morning and everyday teas, because they're always pleasant and won't be spoiled if you have to concentrate on something else while you're drinking them. Tney also make excellent iced teas--the round, malty sweetness of black tea, without the potential harshness that can be found in Assams makes for perfect iced tea.

Elliot

Darjeeling Black Tea: Makaibari Estate First Flush

How time flies! Sometimes we get so busy taking care of store business that I have trouble finding time to keep up my promised blog entries before they're overdue! Though they could have been more evenly-spaced throughout the month, today I'll present Darjeeling and Nilgiri Indian Black Teas to finish (just under the wire) our celebration of Indian black teas.

Many people have at least heard the word "Darjeeling," even if they haven't tried Darjeeling's world-famous teas. Darjeelings have been the subject of many mildly specious metaphors, such as "the champagne of teas," or the "connoisseur's black tea." The fact is: tea is not wine, but Darjeeling black tea is an utterly unique tea genre that is certainly worthy of observant appreciation and the international renown it has generated. Like Assam teas, Darjeelings were first cultivated in the mid-1800's by British expatriates. However, the similarities end there: Unlike Assams, Darjeelings are grown in the mountains of West Bengal province, and the tea plants used originated in China. Because of this combination, Darjeelings tend to be much lighter in body and complex in flavor than the lowland-grown Assam teas.

Darjeelings are also unique because of their leaf appearance--rather than a more or less uniformly black coloration, Darjeelings often contain a number of silver and green leaves, due to the "not-quite-full" oxidation that the leaves receive during processing, which surely contributes to their lightness and complexity when brewed. Darjeeling teas are produced by tea gardens known as "estates," and the name of a particular Darjeeling is almost always the name of the estate. Following the estate name is usually an indicator of which "flush" the tea is--that is, when the tea was harvested. Generally, there are three primary harvests--First flush (produced in March at the end of the rains), Second Flush (produced during June), and Autumn Flush (produced--you guessed it--in autumn, after the second rain season). Flavor-wise, the flushes go from lightest, subtlest and most delicate to darker, fuller-bodied, and less delicate as time progresses, and earlier-harvested teas are usually less expensive. Really, though, it's all a matter of taste--I tend to prefer Second Flush Darjeelings, even though they may not get the most attention.

The tea I chose for tasting is our new Makaibari Estate First Flush. The above picture demonstrates well the beautiful, varied appearance of the leaves. I steeped this one for 2.5 minutes using 190º water--I find a lower temperature of water produces a more subtle cup when it comes to Darjeeling, and too long of a steeping time will bring out a biting bitterness. The first sensation I experienced when drinking this tea was warming--I felt heat rush to my mouth and throat as soon as the tea touched my lips. After swallowing, I noticed a slight, pleasant bitterness in the back of my mouth, as well as an astringency that I often find in First Flush Darjeelings. The wet leaves (you can see in the picture that they've retained their varied coloration, unlike the Satrupa Marangi's fully-oxidized golden buds) put off an inviting aroma of sweet leather and blackberries, and the tea's liquor translates these aromas into a gentle, sweet-and-dry berry flavor and a much more subdued showing of that leathery characteristic. It's also important to note that most true Darjeelings (Darjeelings, like most famous tea types are often faked!) share a similar flavor profile, dubbed "muscatel" by Darjeeling fans. The word is borrowed from wine tasting. Although I'm slightly unconvinced that there's a strong connection between wine's flavor profile and Darjeeling teas', I'm absolutely sure that the so-called "muscatel" flavor is a primary draw for Darjeelings inasmuch as it's unique and inviting in its complexity. The final characteristic that strikes me about this tea is its lingering aftertaste, which really didn't occur with the other two Indian blacks I tried.

We carry two First Flush Darjeelings and one each of Second and Autumn Flushes, so if you're in the neighborhood, please stop by and see for yourself what makes these teas so special!

Elliot

Assam Tea & Satrupa Marangi Tasting Notes

Assam teas (named for the north-eastern Indian state of their origin) are special for a number of reasons. Firstly, Assam is one of only two regions in the world with documented native tea plants (the other, more well-known area is Southern China). Interestingly, the tea plants found growing in Assam are actually an entirely different varietal of the camellia sinensis plant--camellia sinensis assamica, as opposed to the Chinese camellia sinensis sinensis. The Assamese tea plants generally produce large leaves with malty, earthier flavors than the more flowery Chinese variety. The other interesting thing about Assam teas is that they are best grown in the lowlands--unlike Nilgiris and Darjeelings, which are hill- and mountain-grown (not to mention most Chinese and Taiwanese teas, which are also ideally grown at higher elevation). Assam has a lot of floodplain terrain with rich soil that the Assamese tea plants seem to like the best.

In general, Assam teas are strong, robust, malty, and full-bodied. You may not know it, but there's a good chance you're already familiar with Assam tea--it's a staple ingredient in most English Breakfast tea blends. Because of their potent characteristics, Assam teas stand up well to milk and also often benefit from a little sugar.


The Assam I picked to taste is the Satrupa Marangi Estate Assam. We acquired this one fairly recently. One of our most discerning Assam fans recently told me that this tea "perfectly sums up all of the characteristics" he looks for in an Assam. Not bad! As you can sea in the picture above, the tea is mostly composed of dark brown leaves (usually about half a centimeter in length--at most). There are also a number of lighter leaves in the mix--these are leaf buds, and are usually referred to as "tips," when it comes to Indian black teas. Usually, the tippier a tea is, the sweeter it will taste, since the leaf buds are more tender, delicate, and younger.

I brewed 2.5 grams of Satrupa Marangi Assam in a 120 ml competition brewing set for 4 minutes with boiling water. A quick sniff of the wet leaves revealed a richly woody aroma with plenty of strength. As you can see in the photo on the right, the tips, which were obvious in the dry leaf photo have mostly disappeared and the wet leaves are a homogeneous dark brown, thanks to the complete oxidation they underwent during processing. The same woody aroma is present in the liquor, but it's less intense and is also accompanied with notes of caramel. It's also worth noting (especially in comparison with the two other teas I'll be writing about) that the liquor is a very dark amber.

Tasting this tea, the first sensations I felt were in the form of tingling in the top of my mouth and back of my throat. Yes, Assams are unquestionably powerful! After swallowing, the tingling eased off and my mouth filled with a malty, mildly astringent and simultaneously sweet-and-bitter aftertaste. Exhaling a little, I could taste some hints of another flavor, somewhat akin to the woodiness in the aroma--something leathery, or like fresh tobacco. This tea definitely packs a good deal of complexity with its rather large punch. The strength and bitterness may be a little overpowering for some (especially people used to hunting the complexities out of milder and subtler teas), but they do have a great upside--if you add milk or cream and sugar, the tea's character and complexity remain largely intact and are complemented rather than covered up. If you're a fan of milk and sugar in your tea, I can wholeheartedly recommend our Satrupa Marangi Assam as a great candidate for a creamy and delicious cup.

Next up we'll be moving on to the mountains not far from Assam and to some of black tea's most exquisite pleasures, Darjeeling blacks!

Elliot

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