tea Archives - Page 11 of 13 - Wojciech BońkowskiWojciech Bońkowski

2008 Jirisan Woojun

A world-class sparrow

After yesterday’s post on a tea from Korea here’s another one. This 2008 Woojun (alternate spelling of ujeon, the top grade / earliest picking of Korean tea) from the Jirisan mountain is also from Eastteas. Unlike yesterday’s Nokcha, this tea is fairly expensive (£65 / 100g) but I would gladly pay double the price.

When buying Chinese tea, the earliest April flush (pre-qingming) is a reasonable standard of what you should seek and accept. Unless you’re late with your shopping and the spring teas are sold out there’s usually no problem in sourcing pre-qing stuff, and it needn’t be extravagantly expensive. At least for me, it is a good ‘normal’ grade.

Korean ujeon (which technically is the same) is a different story. Due to very low production (it makes up a fraction of Korea’s insignificant 1500 tons of annual yield) and high demand it’s a rare grade, and can get frightfully expensive. On the positive side, the quality is usually spectacular. This sample surely is.

Infusion no. 1 (45 seconds).

I have formerly enjoyed the Sparrow’s Tongue offering from Eastteas (colonial translation of jaksol or chaksol = sparrow’s tongue, a blanket term for green tea that can range in grade from ujeon through sejak down to jungjak), finding it superlatively intense and defined, and when Alex Fraser said Woojun is even better, deeper, and more intense, I was incredulous. And yet…

The leaves are really tiny (while perfectly intact). If you want to see how tiny, scroll down to the last image of this post. They indeed look like sparrow tongues or very tiny curly needles. Importantly, the dry leaf aroma is superb. It shows a very intense, distinctly herbal character I identify as oregano, with top notes of supergrade Italian olive oil. One of the best-smelling teas in my memory.

Brewing is a tricky affair. Alex Fraser recommends high dosage, low temperature and short infusions. Surely you should step down even to 50–55C for your first brewing; dosage is a matter of how you like your green tea. Using 5–6g per 100ml and lukewarm water you obtain something along the lines of a Japanese gyokuro, while I’m happy with a more conservatively Chinese-styled infusion at around 3.5g. There are echoes of the nose’s oregano and olive oil with some artichoke, the signature nuttiness of Korean green tea, and even a hint of salty umami. Outstanding character and intensity with a mouth-cleaning mentholly character on end. While it’s easy to overbrew and can become fiercely bitter, when properly handled this tea has remarkable intensity coupled with great purity. Extraordinary stuff.

This tea is made with the leaf on the right…

2008 Nokcha

A belated note on an old favourite: a brilliant Korean green tea that sums up the distinctive, nutty, slightly-oxidised character of this country’s teas.

1989 Jiang Cheng Brick

Tea as memory

Amidst the merry celebrations of last Thursday, there was no way to forget the other June 4th. While Europe rejoiced in a regained freedom and prosperity for the following two decades, the people of China were negated political freedom, and the country continues to be ruled as a dictatorship.

Yesterday night, in memory of those who perished on the Square of Heavenly Peace two decades ago, I brewed a very special Chinese tea in a commemorative tea ceremony. A full-blown chaxi (tea setup), such as I never prepare. I slowly brought the best Polish mineral water to a boil in my earthenware kettle, put dry leaves of the 1989 Jiang Cheng Wild Tree Brick in my dahongpao yixing clay pot, and let it infuse slowly. The tea was brewed in silence and no tasting notes were taken.

This outstanding tea, produced a few weeks before the mournful event, is full of unabated elemental force and seemed a more than appropriate homage to the departed. What follows is an account of an earlier tasting session with photographs from today, as I finished off the leaves from yesterday’s session.

—————————————————————-

Sourced from Tea Masters, this expensive (140€ at the time of purchase) yet special brick is comprehensively described on their website.

Brewed in: gaiwan and dahongpao clay pot (5g / 130ml)
Dry leaf: While Stéphane Erler on several occasions describes the compression as loose, I found it rather difficult to flake off leaves, and used a largish whole chunk of the tea brick instead. (Consequently, I made a quick rinse with boiling water – something I never do normally – before the first infusion to soften the leaves). It is a very dry brick with a lot of evolution to the dark brown, through-fermented leaves.

Infusions no. 1 (40 seconds), 4 (after a total of 3:30′)
and 7 (total 22 minutes – no mistake!).

Tasting notes:
40s: While the brewing time for this dosage is longish (I was deliberately seeking to extract a lot of power), I was surprised by the very deep brown-burgundy colour, especially given the initial rinse. There is instantly a blissful aromatic moment in the aroma cup, with a warm fleshy softness and sweetness; later notes are of old wood and earth. While this tea is obviously aged, little wet storage is evident. This is a far more concentrated and intense brewing than expected for a #1, although there is relatively little dryness. We are in for a treat.
25s: Still extremely dark. Quite a different balance now, less aromatic without the soft notes of the above, quite earthy and chewy, and on the palate this is dominated by a vegetal, almost tree bark-like bitterness and earthy tannic dryness. Lots of power in this tea! A challenging infusion, not so very much pleasant to drink. This looks like it could continue to age and improve for many years.
35s: More in the style of the first than second infusion. The aroma is sweetish, soft, if less fleshy, and taking on an almost wafery or baked-cakey sweetness. Flavour is still earthy, old-leafy, vegetal. A more balanced finish now, firm but with a bit of sweet huigan. A balanced qi, not very assertive, building up rather slowly.
Instead of continuing with short analytic infusions I let this loose, and brewed almost at will. For several more minutes this shows a very deep colour, but aroma and flavour are lighter (though not light). Still chewy-earthy on finish, but without the intensity and complexity on the palate of the former brews.

This is an extraordinary creature of a tea. Looking at the expired leaf (see photo above and below), there are still lots of intact whole leaves after 20 years! Really thick with very developed veins. This tea abounds in rough, elemental power, making it easy to believe the declared ‘wild tree’ provenance (how many modern puer can you say this about?). In purely drinking terms, it may lack the elegance (or ready-to-drinkness?) of the 1999 Menghai #7532 but shows an unadulterated old style of sheng puer when no concessions were made for the modern yuppie public and teas were made to last decades. I wouldn’t have liked to be near these leaves in 1989. A majestic tea of authority and austerity. And right for the occasion, I would say.

2008 Biluochun AA

The Chablis of tea: a worthy name for one of China’s greatest greens.

1970s Loose Pu

35 years on…

This is the second of four samples kindly sent by Tea Masters (see here for the first). As usually the Tea Masters website has a comprehensive review and background for this tea.

As the leaves were just enough for a single serving (2.8g) I decided against a competition-style single brewing and opted against for a full-length gongfu session in dahongpao clay pot. As the best Polish mineral water is slowly brought to a boil in my earthenware kettle, I sit down to this session with a sense of humility and alertness.

Early 1970s Loose Puer
Leaf: A relatively light to medium brown colour to these reasonably large leaves. Almost no aroma to the cool leaf (due to sample size?). When put in warmed pot, this smells very aged and earthy with a decomposed vegetal / forest floor character, however no shicang (wet storage) pungency.

Brewing no. 1 (15 seconds), 2 (20 seconds)
and 7 (11 minutes total).

Tasting notes:
15s: A medium brown colour no more. Aroma is very calm with distant echoes of generic aged ‘tea’ and no wet storage in sight (always a positive aspect for me, as I find shicang robs many teas of clarity and depth). Beany, boiled-vegetabley, earthy, perhaps woody. The tea enters the mouth with some peppery spice, and that earthy textural grain is present throughout. Not very high in flavour, made of one block; sedate, calm, aged. Rather clean, although due to that above-mentioned texture, it lacks the crystalline character of teas such as the 1984 shu coin from Tea Masters. This tea is in harmony with itself, more so than the analyst perhaps.
20s: Extraction is now boosted: a considerably darker brown colour (if without the pruney purple hues of some other aged puer). Similar register to the first brewing but more of everything. Earthy, mealy, cerealy, all fused into a single aromatic note. On the palate this now even shows a bit of tannic grip: it must have been a monster in its youth. (Many 2006 puers already have less bite than this at 35 years of age). By now this tea is fully active on the palate, making one salivate and feed on the dense mealy character.
20s: Very similar to brewing #2, with two changes: less mealiness and intensity, and the appearance of a firm, stoney (‘mineral’) character. For its age this is really impressive through its power and intensity. Showing why aged puer enjoys the status it does: no other tea can approach this dimension.
20s: Darker than expected. But with a less extracted flavour, the mineral-cellary notes are more subdued now (though not absent), and there is a bit of sweet-textured huigan for the first time. Very active, almost digestive qi.
5m: Pushing to see how much power can be extracted. Colour however stays a medium dark brown similar to brewing #2 perhaps. A masculine if rather simple aroma of earth and wood. Really similar to the previous brewing. Very good length, balance of sweet and earthy elements, still some power but clearly little more has been (can be?) extracted from these leaves. Though far from pale, of course.
90s: Colour and register are considerably paler with the flavour now simplified, but there is an attractive oiliness of texture at mid-palate.
3m: This is now really light in colour and I think going down. One aromatic note: recognisable, enjoyable, cellar floor-dirty agedness.

This is a special tea, and I surely have no competence to assess it fully. I obviously killed it with that overenthusiastic fifth brewing, and would probably have reached ten comfortable infusions with shorter steeping times (though I honestly expected more patience here). But there’s no denying its excellent vigour and cleanliness. It gives the impression of having the potential to improve further with age. Hats off to Stéphane for (literally) unearthing this brilliantly cellared tea.

2009 Lushan Jinxuan

Tea with milk??

I have just received this package of samples from Stéphane Erler of Tea Masters (thank you!). The opportunity to taste some new teas is always exciting; this one even more so, as the package includes some rare old puer and oolong (more one these soon), and my first taste of this new season’s tea.

This 2009 Lushan Jinxuan is an interesting variation on Taiwan’s classic high altitude rolled green oolong. The variation lies in the varietal: jinxuan. Most of the renowned gaoshan (high-mountain) oolongs are made from the traditional qingxin tea cultivar. However, due to the latter’s low yield and disease resistance, a number of new cultivars have been developed over the recent decades. These are so rarely featured in a tea’s name or descriptor that tea drinkers remain mostly unfamiliar with them, and jinxuan, sijichun or cuiyu can only dream of enjoying the recognisability of syrah, merlot or tempranillo.

Jinxuan (a.k.a. as Taiwan No. 12) is one such variety of tea tree, and apart from good productivity it is known for its creamy or milk-like aroma. This is as much a blessing as a curse, as many unscrupulous producers of lower-end oolong simply boost this subtle natural aroma with artificial flavouring. The result, sold as ‘Milk Oolong’, can be so utterly repulsive I have pretty much lost any confidence in jinxuan altogether. I thank Stéphane all the more, therefore, for having sent this very enjoyable sample.

Brewed: competition style (2g / 100ml / 5 minutes)
Leaf: These tea pellets look just like any gaoshan but are really rather large: I reached the required 2g with just 12 leaves (see photo at the bottom of post). These leaves are also quite thin, resulting in a fair bit of bruising and other damage. Colour is a consistent dark green. A pleasant leafy smell to the wet leaves, like walking in a garden after a spring or early summer rain.

Tasting notes:
Infusion colour is rather light. A fine scent, vegetal, leafy, mildly sweet perhaps, with the ‘milky’ association really kept more allusive than upfront (what a relief after the low-end, artificially-flavoured examples). A comfortable mouthfeel for this classic-styled tea that in fact reminded me of continental Chinese teas such as Tiekuanyin or Maoxie. Limited sweetness, this hints at boiled vegetables on the reasonably long finish which is enlivened by some dryness. I don’t get any milk notes here.

Another session in gaiwan (4g / 120ml) showed a slightly more pronounced dairy aroma reminiscent of clotted cream perhaps. There is also a distinctive florality that is different from the lily & orchid register of qingxin: this is less exotic, leafier, perhaps tulip-like. With short gongfu-style brewings (30s, 40s etc.) the register and intensity are quite pale, though, and Stéphane is right in his description that this should ideally be infused for longer times.

All in all this an enjoyable tea with a very subtle, unobtrusive ‘milky’ aroma. But it also shows why the jinxuan variety doesn’t have the pedigree of qingxin: this tea just lacks the structure, depth and finesse of the latter.

2g of leaf after 5 minutes of infusion.

2008 Spring Luanze

A springtime delight

High mountain (gaoshan) oolong from Central Taiwan is one of the world’s best teas, and Shan Lin Shi is one of the most famous appellations (origins) here. No wonder, therefore, that leading Taiwan tea internet specialist Tea Masters are offering no less than a dozen varieties from each vintage including six from Shan Lin Shi alone, at the time of writing.

As the spring is here and I am waiting to place an order for 2009 oolongs, I am slowly finishing my sample of the 2008 Shan Lin Shi Spring Luanze. As most of the top gaoshan oolongs, this is made from the qingxin tea cultivar, also known as luanze (and identified as such on the Tea Masters catalogue). There will be experts around to explain it fully but the reason why qingxin is preferred to other tea cultivars (such as jianxuan or the most widespread sijichun) is the inimitable buttery mouthfeel it gives, along with good ageing potential for the more roasted types.

See here for background about this tea, which was picked on 30th April 2008 at 1650 meters of altitude and underwent no roast; the oxidation is also rather low, giving a tea that’s close to a green in aroma and lightness, but showing a bit more substance and sturdiness than most green teas.

Price: 28 € / 100g (and worth every penny)
Brewed in: gaiwan
Dosage: 4 g / 120ml
Leaf: Appearance is the usual tightly rolled green leaf with a bit of stem attached. Dry leaf aroma is clean and very pleasant, reminiscent of the leaves and petals of first spring flowers (tulips perhaps).

Brewing #1 (30 seconds).

Tasting notes:
30s: The aroma is surprising for a gaoshan in being only vaguely floral, and quite vegetal-leafy. Flavour is again less floral than many teas of this style: mild, soft, light, with only a bit of dryness on end. As it cools down there is quite an inviting velvety texture and an understated, clean, satisfying vegetal taste.
30s: Seems denser in texture and flavour, with some grainy, mealy notes adding to the vegetality.
30s: Now a little lighter, no floweriness at all, and some grip on the finish. In fact this is going along the lines of brewing #2 in showing a touch of roast perhaps (?? Tea Masters are indicating there is none): against many featherlight and unsubstantial renditions of Shan Lin Shi, this tea has guts, and has in fact survived the 360 days of ageing more than well. Altogether a highly satisfying version of its appellation. Stay tuned for tasting notes of other SLS types offered by Tea Masters.

Gyokuro Dejima-san

Shaking hands with umami

Japanese tea is not my cup of tea. As many (I think) tea drinkers, I have been put off by the overly grassy and fishy flavour these green teas can develop if brewed improperly. Not that the brewing window is narrower in this case than continental Chinese greens, but perhaps the failures are more unpleasant.

I have made a resolution to explore these teas in the coming season, so stay tuned for tasting notes appearing on this blog. Today I am starting at the very top – by a Gyokuro sourced from Eastteas. Any tea drinker will know that Gyokuro (tea made from shaded trees; when powdered it makes Matcha) is very particular in requiring a high dosage (which Japanese teas usually don’t) and surprisingly low brewing temperatures. Now, reaching those prescribed 45C is no easy task! From boiling water, it really takes long minutes of cooling the water (unless you want to mess up with several water coolers). For your effort, you get a very concentrated essence of vegetality, including a distinctive salty-savoury edge that embodies umami, the notorious ‘fifth taste’. (In this tea, it can be detected as tiny crystals of natural glutamate).

A water thermometer will be necessary
to reach the standard 40C brewing temperature of Gyokuro.

Gyokuro Dejima-san
Price: £48 / 100g
Brewed in: glass pot
Dosage: 4g/120ml
Leaf: Tiny, reasonably unmessy by Japanese standards (is asamushi a valid term for Gyokuro?), predominantly light green with some brighter tones; minor umami crystals here and there. Wet leaf is pleasant to look at, with no fannings and a consistent green colour. This shows the high quality of tea.

Tasting notes:
1m @ 40C: Colour is pale and aroma somewhat reticent but palate is indeed an explosion of umami taste: savoury, brothy (not salty!), glutamic, reminiscent of miso paste perhaps, with auxiliary notes of green peas and none of the grassiness of sencha. Good length, good intensity, good precision. Could actually have been brewed longer. (I started on the cautious side).
40s @ 50C: Less exciting than brewing #1, less intense though profile is consistent. No aggressivity or astringency whatsoever, this enters the mouth broad and flavourful with no hard edges. As often with second brewings of Japanese fragmented-leaf teas, this is a little murky in appearance and flavour now.
Further brewings are still pleasurable but you have to rise to 70C to obtain any intensity.
This is expensive tea, but the experience is interesting. Is it a top Gyokuro? I cannot by any stretch of the imagination be considered an expert in the subject but I would expect a bit more intensity and ‘bite’. But having been a little conservative with my dosage and brewing times, I guess this tea deserves the benefit of a doubt.

2005 Yongde Wild Arbor Brick

Relaxingly average

It’s interesting how seasonal your consumption patterns can be. A few days after the last attack of winter on which I’ve reported here, the spring is in full swing here in Poland, with temperatures reaching +18C in the afternoon. Immediately, I feel less thirsty for tea in general, and my choices tend to be more and more green. On the other hand, I can’t quite imagine brewing those high-roast Wuyi oolongs or ripe puer.

Between sessions of Longjing and sencha, I decided to have a look at a tea I haven’t reviewed here yet, and in fact haven’t tasted in quite a while. The 2005 Yongde Wild Arbor Brick is the sort of upper lower middle range tea I never feel urged to drink but that is always a safe choice for a ‘normal’, weekday cup of tea.

This puer is compressed into a brick instead of the more usual cake. Somehow, I don’t really like bricks. I can’t explain it, since bricks have many qualities: easy to store, I get the impression they are also a bit tidier than cakes when you have consumed more than 70% of the tea. Yet there’s something about the shape that doesn’t attract me. Bricks are quite thick and I have encountered a ‘dressing-up’ strategy more often than with cakes: there is a pretty layer of large leaves on the outside but underneath, the brick is made of lesser material.
2005 Yongde Tea Factory Wild Arbor Brick
Merchant: Yunnan Sourcing
Price: $13 / 250g brick
Brewed in: gaiwan
Dosage: 5g / 120ml
Leaf: Large leaves on front of brick but speaking of dressing up, there is indeed a bit. Leaf colour is rather dark and untippy. Pleasant, aged aroma: dried leaves and tobacco.

Infusion #1 (25 seconds).

Tasting notes:
25s: Pale colour. Not much aroma, echoing the nose with tobacco and dried leaves; uncomplex and calm. Not a lot of body on the palate. Finishing definitely a little bitter (vegetal juice of chewed branches coming to mind); a little unbalanced or perhaps just austere.
45s: A darker (if not terribly attractive) beige-brown. To its credit, the tea hasn’t turned bitter with this longish infusion. A moderate intensity of low-acid tobacco, beans, and barnyard; perhaps some huigan.
40s, 45s, 1m: Consistent and fairly stable, building a more bitterness-driven balance than initially. Some content here, and could improve with time.
Brewing #6 is already a little light, with decreasing interest. The profile is not very young but not really aged either. Dry-stored (this was purchased in 2008 from Yunnan Sourcing, who are still offering this brick)

In essence, it is not a great tea, but surely good for the price. It has some content and personality, though not exceedingly much. The disappointing factor is the grandeur of its description: I can hardly detect much old-tree material here, and for a high-mountain spring tea, it tastes a little light and bland. If you forget that, it is a relaxing pleasant puer that’s just fine for Monday like today.

1990 Fuhai Wild Tuo

Abundant snowfall on Warsaw on 26th March. How to survive? Fermented tea (shu puerh) gives a helping hand. And this 1990 vintage (yes that’s a 19-year-old tea) is excellent.