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Getting Baijiguan

I got this nice gift from a fellow tea lover in Poland: four neat 8-gram packages of Baijiguan. China’s most famous oolong tea, the king of Wuyi cliff tea, still made from the original millennial tea trees or their direct clones.

Incidentally this is one tea I’ve never tasted before. I’ve had the other three of the Four Famous Bushes: Dahongpao, Tieluohan and Shuijingui, but not Baijiguan. On anybody’s way of tea, it’s good to have a goal out there to reach.

So it was with excitement that I opened the bag. It will take a better grasp of Chinese than mine to decipher the info on the bag; all I know is that this tea is from 2010. At first sight this is a very surprising tea. It has a very low roast and the leaf is a mix of various light greens – way less oxidised than the norm in Wuyi. Apparently this is typical of Baijiguan, but how to approach this? (See here for photos of Shuixian, a typical Wuyi tea). The leaf aroma is very subdued with hay and toasted bread.

On my first attempt I dumped the entire bag – 6.8g of leaf after sorting out the debris – into a 100ml gaiwan. Treated like all oolongs with boiling water and perhaps 40 seconds of steeping this tea was frankly unpleasant. A murky light beige colour, very little aroma in the cup and a completely flavourless palate ending rather bitter. The next few infusions were no better. I had obviously mishandled this tea but was nonplussed by the profile with a mixture of low and medium oxidation leaves this tea tasted like an unsuccessful modern Darjeeling. To save the day I quickly brewed some 2008 Shuijingui – Baijiguan’s marginally less famous sibling – that I bought from Dragon Tea House. What a good tea! Wuyi at its chocolatey, honeyed, high-roasted best but also with an unusually intense plummy fruitiness – outstanding.

It was only after 7 or 8 infusions, with the leaves fading away that the BJG revealed some pleasant low key elegance and an almondy flavour distantly reminiscent of Dancong oolong. So there was hope, I thought. For my next attempt I halved the dosage and used an excellent quality shipiao clay pot from Taiwan I usually dedicate to Dancong from Tea Masters. Following my experience with Dancong I also used very brief infusions at the beginning: starting with perhaps 8 seconds. The result was far, far better than my first attempt in gaiwan. Very light in colour. Partly thanks to the clay pot that emphasised the fruity notes rounded off the whole, but partly after the brewing parameters helped the tea’s finesse come forward, this Baijiguan now showed some real textural interest with light notes of white almonds, dried fruits, a bit of dried herbs; bitterness was never allowed to dominate in any of the ten infusions. The patience was also good, although in all truth it’s a rather light tea that never delivered a very intense flavour.

I still have my reservations about this: looking at the expired leaf I think the oxidation is a bit random, with some bruised leaves and some totally green; it just doesn’t seem so well handled. The lack of flavour intensity especially at mid-palate is a problem. But when ‘got right’, this tea at least has personality. It comes closer to a Dancong than other tea varieties in Wuyi.

Disclosure
Baijiguan was a gift from a friend (not ITB). Shuijingui and the shipiao pot were my own purchases.

Icing tea

We’ve gone through one of the most torrid summers ever here in Poland. My last year’s moanings have been put into perspective by several weeks of 35+C weather. Hot tea is a no issue. So I’ve been forced to jump on the ice tea bandwagon, and come up with my own recipe. You’ll find hundreds of these on the web (here’s one I really liked, with a deeper insight into ice tea Japanese style) and here’s mine.

Generally I dislike cold tea. I prefer to drink it fairly hot, and while there’s interest in sheng or oolong tea that has cooled down a little, I find room temperature tea really a little repulsive. So the idea of preparing ice tea required overcoming a bit of self-resistance. I started my trials with the type of tea I drink regularly in the summer anyway: Japanese green. It might be a weird choice for some – intuitively a tea drinker might be wary of overinfusing a sencha leaving it, as you should with ice tea, over several hours on the leaves. In my experience it’s enough to opt for a lighter, less fragmented leaf type like the 3rd Prize Asamushi from Hirumaen (reviewed here). I still had a bit of this left when receiving the new vintage and so using it for ice tea sounded sensible. The result is surprising. There’s a lot of texture to this ‘Iced Asamushi’ with all its glutinous umami character, but also some sweetness. It’s immensely refreshing in a vegetal sort of way.

These small delicate leaves will open completely even when infused with cold water.

But admittedly that injection of savoury umami might be beyond the comfort line for some. I think the expected taste profile of ice tea is something fruity and sweet. A fruity black tea might be a good choice; for me, a tea that works wonders is Dancong. This Chinese oolong is gorgeously aromatic and over a few hours of infusion in the fridge, will produce a brew that’s wonderfully scented with dried fruits, flowers and almonds. It’s a good moment to use up that unexpensive Dancong you’ve a bit too much of, like this $9.90 thing from Yunnan Sourcing that I found of fairly good quality FWII.

Some people prepare ice tea with tea that’s been brewed with hot water and then chilled. With Dancong this is dangerous, as it’s a type of tea that can release quite a bit of bitter tannins. That’s why I prefer to cover it with room temperature water in a large glass jar (think 6–8g of leaf per 500ml water) and then refrigerate: the leaves won’t open totally (see photo above) and the release of tannins will be limited. Sometimes I also add a spoon of good quality brown sugar, to boost the fruitiness. The result is the exact opposite of the ‘iced asamushi’ described above – but every bit as delicious.

Disclosure:

The two teas reviewed above and the brown sugar were my own purchase. The glass jar is a family gift.

2009 Semi-Wild Tree Baozhong

As the days grow longer and warmer it’s time for some lighter tea. I’m currently having a good look at this 2009 Baozhong I got from Taiwanese specialist Tea Masters. This tea is interesting in being sourced from semi-wild tea trees in the mountains of Taiwan (read full story here). While there’s a reasonable number (though far less than unscrupulous vendors would have you believe) of wild tree puer from Yunnan in China, it’s extremely rare to come across a wild tree oolong tea.

This tea introduces an interesting variation to the Baozhong typicity. Although it keeps the high floral notes and the ripe exotic fruit elegance of its genre, it is less aromatic than many of its siblings. Instead, it focuses on purity. Its aroma and flavour are remarkably precise and seem to be fairly tolerant of brewing conditions. In my experience, Baozhong is usually fairly sensitive to overbrewing, and can develop unpleasantly dominant, bitter vegetal notes. The 2009 Semi-Wild Tree is more magnanimous towards the inexperienced brewer.

With the florality less forward, the texture in mouth is emphasised, and its silky buttery richness reveals more than a vague similarity to Taiwanese high-mountain oolong (gaoshan). It’s as if underneath the sweet, pungent bouquet of farmed tea, a deeper essence of mountaineous terroir was taking the fore.
A truly interesting tea, and kept affordable at 22€ / 100g (but quantities are limited and this is now sold out).

2009 Semi-Wild Tree Baozhong: small leaves that I take as a characteristics of the semi-abandoned, unfertilised trees.

Brewing this tea over several days, I’ve also taken the opportunity to refresh my memory about a couple of older, 2008 Baozhongs from the same source. The Fleur de Lys version I blogged on last year did go through a less inspiring period of seeming staleness last autumn, but it actually seems to be experiencing a minor revival. It’s vegetal with a diminished aroma but actually shows a pleasant clean taste and nice Cox apple juiciness. It shows that even for low-oxidised, unroasted Baozhong the lifespan can be of several years. And it seems the right sort of tea for ‘home refreshment’ (operating a short re-roast; I didn’t try though).
The 2008 Young Tree Baozhong is another interesting variation on the theme. Here, atypically, the virgin leaves or very young trees are processed unblended, and the dry material includes a large proportion of stems which, according to Tea Masters, increases the sweetness and mouthfeel of the tea. Stylistically this comes midway between the two Baozhongs mentioned above, with the intense upfront florality of the Fleur de Lys but also the extra depth and dimension of the Semi-Wild Tree. This tea really packs in quite some punch and should be brewed light accordingly. (Failure to do so results in a dark-coloured, honeyed, somewhat ‘stewed’ taste). A tea with plenty of presence and striking purity, this really rises majestically above the Baozhong average, and is a real grand cru.

Disclaimer:
All three teas were my own purchase.

2008 Dahongpao

Dahongpao is one of the four classic oolong teas of the Wuyi region. A status roughly equivalent to a Burgundian grand cru such as Richebourg or Clos de Tart. Accordingly, there are many imitations that make you wonder what the fuss is about. This expensive Dahongpao shows why the reputation is well deserved.

Benshan clay pot, and how it performs

I have been looking for a Chinese clay pot to infuse my high mountain oolongs from Taiwan (and the little Anxi oolong from mainland China that I drink, as they are produced in a similar style). So far, I’ve brewed these rolled-leaf teas in a porcelain gaiwan, but I’ve been looking to expand the horizons of these teas a bit.

I have been facing two problems. One is that these oolongs are very high in aroma, often with lifted floral and exotic fruit notes, which tend to be slightly handicapped by brewing in certain types of clay (in my experience); the choice of a Yixing-style teapot usually aims at improving your tea’s mouthfeel more than anything. The mouthfeel of gaoshan oolong is important to me but so is the aroma.

The other dilemma is that some of those oolongs are very slightly oxidised and unroasted, essentially bringing them fairly close to a green tea, while others have higher oxidation and, importantly, a medium to high roast. My teapot of choice would need to work equally well with both types. Is it at all possible, I wondered?

Recommendation for rolled oolong teapot usually steer towards tighter, harder, less porous clays whose effect on the tea is a little more discreet and gentle. Zhuni pots are one match that seems to be recurrent among experts. But I already own a zhuni pot that I felt wasn’t doing a great job with the unroasted types.

Placing an order for 2009 puer recently with Yunnan Sourcing, I browsed their selection and found some green clay teapots made of Benshan clay (similar to duanni clay I understand, but more green-coloured). Green clay tends to get mixed reviews. Some people like it, while others dismiss it altogether even going as far to say it’s only good for display purposes. This ‘dragon egg’ shaped teapot was $35 so I thought I’d give it a go. It is not a masterpiece of craftsmanship but a solidly built piece of equipment with thick, temperature-retaining walls and a swift pour.

I must say it’s really performing well. I wasn’t expecting miracles but the difference in the quality of the brew is very clear from beginning to end. It actually happens to fit my purpose very well indeed, performing equally well with the unroasted and roasted oolongs.

Here are some summarised tasting notes from brewing two identical teas in both porcelain gaiwan and Benshan teapot. Parameters were 3.5g of leaf for 120ml boiling water, infusions of 40s and 20s (I didn’t continue the experiment beyond the second brewing).

2008 Spring Fenghuang ‘Verger de Montagne’ oolong (purchased for Teamasters)
The gaiwan produces an unremarkable lid aroma and a simple brew aroma but the taste is very good, balanced, with plenty of yun sweetness. However on the finish there is quite a vegetal edge to this slightly stale 2008 tea perhaps. A second brew is again a very good quality cup, very nicely composed with floral-fruity sweetness and buttery density. Now more balanced, less vegetal than #1.

In the Benshan pot, there is a considerable difference already in the aroma of dry leaves warming in the pot: while the gaiwan is emphasising the caramel and light roast, Benshan pot is exuding a lovely floral, clean, sweet aroma. Brew colour is also visibly darker. A sweet, fat, floral buttery lid aroma. The brew is obviously a little stronger than in the gaiwan, slightly more drying, less immediate and buttery-smacky but admittedly a little more complete. It definitely rounds off the vegetal edge. In a second 20s brewing, the difference is less pronounced, though the Benshan pot colour is still a little darker golden, and there is more dark honey spice sweetness, and obviously more complexity.

Very similar colour of #2 brew in gaiwan (left) and Benshan pot (right).

2009 Spring Dongding ‘Classique’ [medium roast] oolong (purchased from Teamasters)

Here again the gaiwan gives an entirely satisfying brew with a balanced roast, good creaminess both in aroma and flavour, and a bit of dryness on end. But the second brewing might have been just a bit too long here with 20 seconds, with the tea showing quite vegetal, drying and a little chaotic.

In Benshan clay, the warmed dry leaf aroma before you pour water in is more exciting, with a more succulent roastiness and a touch of raspberry. And there is definitely more precision in the brew aroma, where the roast is mellowed and there are finer, subtler notes of white butter. It is a rounder, richer, more generous tea from this pot. A second 15s brewing is much heftier here, dark-coloured into orange, and dominated by roast, but seemingly less overbrewed and unbalanced than in the gaiwan.

Expired leaves of the 2009 Dongding Classique: what a skillful roast here.

Bottom line: the Benshan clay pot is doing a great job in removing some of the hard edges of the tea (though admittedly both teas I chose were extremely high quality and hardly in need of ‘correction’, so we’re talking minor fine details of aroma and flavour here). It works well both with the drying-tannic vegetality of unroasted types, and the throat-drying action of the less well balanced roast in the roasted types. At the same time the texture is enhanced, and the tea tastes rounder, more voluminous and complete. Importantly, my fears about the aroma being diminished found no confirmation. If anything, the aroma was more complex and precise from the clay pot than from the gaiwan. It was an interesting experiment and I think for any more inquisitive session, I will now be using the Benshan pot as a standard.

Source of items: both teas and teapot were my own purchases.

A 1983 for 2010

37 years down the road this is drinking brilliantly. An aged Baozhong tea from Taiwan. Unique!

Himalayan oolong

As part of the ongoing Lochan Tea Co. online tasting on Facebook (see here
for their profile and contact them if you’d like to enroll for the second
round, to be organised soon), I’m tasting the 2009 Oolong from Meghma Estate in Nepal, and thought I’d compare it
with a 2009 2nd Flush Oolong from
Glenburn Estate in Darjeeling which I got also from Lochan earlier this
year.

Darjeeling and Nepal have historically specialised in black teas. However
with the increasing popularity of new types of tea in the West, the market
pressure on Himalayan tea producers is to introduce green, white, yellow, and
oolong (semi-oxidised) styles. These remain marginal but it’s interesting to
compare them with the classic Chinese examples.

The usual feeling is one of disappointment. Indian greens and oolongs
are rarely exciting and often fall short of ‘the real thing’. It’s important to
say that non-black teas in the Himalayan regions are produced with the same tea
plants that yield black tea (in China, it’s almost always a separate tea
cultivar, although green and black tea are produced from the same leaves in
some regions, and classic oolong varietals such as qingxin and tieguanyin
are occasionally used for black tea in Taiwan). And it’s also often argued that
Indian tea makers lack the expertise linked to green and oolong production in
China – although tea manufacture might seem a simple task there’s a number of
intricate processing steps such as wilting, roasting and rolling that need to
be very carefully timed.

I think no-one would argue there’s no oolong in India at the moment that
can challenge the iron-cast structure and longevity of a Dahongpao, or the
inimitable buttery texture of a high-grown Lishan from Taiwan. Green tea is
more open to debate but being produced from tea plants suited for black tea,
with its tannins and deep taste, Darjeeling green teas usually lack the finesse
and lightness of the best Chinese examples. Yet I often feel it’s a bit unfair
to compare the two. Indian (and Nepalese) green and oolong tea need to find
their own original style. The two teas tasted here go some way along that path,
I felt.

The 2009 Glenburn Estate Oolong is a 2nd flush tea with strange looks: as much as 40–50% tips mixed with small, fragmented, ‘black’
Darjeeling-looking young leaves, but with a silvery and green colour. Smell is
equally odd: a democratic mix of oxidative black-tea herby pungency and puer smokiness. The puer reminiscence continues on the nose and palate of the brewed
tea.

Brewed competition-styled (2g of leaf for 5 minutes), this is coming
really close to a black tea both in body and in the chewy, earthy register, but
when dosed high at ~4g and brewed gongfu-style
like a Chinese oolong, the oxidation is lower (~50% I guess), the whole is
lighter, a little walnutty, and generally lacks grip. (I prefer a longer infusion
here). Not so much texture or intensity at mid-palate but a decent profile.
Perhaps wrong to expect this to conform to any known Chinese or Taiwanese
oolong type: it’s just tasting of a slightly less oxidised Darjeeling.

The 2009 Meghma Estate (Facebook
profile) Oolong (also a 2nd
flush) is another modified-Darjeeling ‘oolong’, but a more successful one. The
oxidation is higher (~70%), and the dry leaf appearance is quite different:
fewer tips, medium-sized leaves that seem a little larger than those used for
black tea. The dry leaf aroma is very smokey and mildly spicy, with a vague
reminiscence of Oriental Beauty from Taiwan. Really good leaf quality here: it’s
no coincidence the tea also tastes good. Look at the expired leaf
photo with its intact bud-and-leaf systems:

I followed the Lochan recommended parameters (4g of leaf / 250ml boiling
water / 3 minutes) and unlike the 2009 Doke 2nd Flush Silver Needle white tea
tasted on Facebook yesterday, found them very successful. While the steeping
is a bit longer than I would have dared on my own, the result is a flavourful
and balanced tea, not overbrewed
and only medium-bodied, lighter in colour than expected:

A simple tea as befits its small-size leaf, this has in
fact quite a bit in common with a Darjeeling-styled black tea, including a
bergamottey and dried fruits spiciness, but lacks the tannins and remains a
little lighter. Interestingly but consistently with the wet leaf appearance the
subsequent brewings taste much like a ‘redded’ (partly oxidised before the shaqing stage of processing) puer, and share that crisp beany
character and a similar chewy constitution to the tannins. A gongfu session on lots of leaf and 30s,
20s, 30s etc. steeps yields similar results: initially very smokey, later with a
more pronounced black tea dryness.

In short, this has nothing to do with a Chinese or Taiwanese oolong but
builds a style of its own: that of a less-than-fully oxidised black tea,
lighter in body and less astringent but similarly flavoured to a Darjeeling (of
the more chunky style). Is there any interest in that? I would say so.

Glenburn 2009 Oolong (left, 1st infusion, 30 seconds), Meghma 2009 Oolong (right, 3rd infusion, 30 seconds):
the difference in oxidation is clear.

2008 Rougui

Let’s continue the Wuyi theme with another classic tea from this region of China: Rougui. The name means ‘cinnamon’ (in the meaning of ‘cassia’)
and refers, predictably, to the heady spicy aroma exuded by both dry leaf and
brew.

While not as ubiquitous as Shuixian, Rougui is
a fairly common tea. This example from 2008 is again from the Dragon Tea House
on eBay, and I bought for the extremely modic sum of $8 / 100g (interestingly,
the 2009 now on
offer at this merchant has increased to $18).

This is proper tea: it becomes obvious as soon
as you look at the leaves. They are long, intact, and well taken care of. There’s
a distinctive and nicely nuanced spicy aroma, perhaps of cinnamon tree bark if
you insist. Far less roasted and chocolatey than your usual Wuyi tea, and
surely less than either of the Shuixian I reviewed a few days ago. The tea’s
medium body and moderate roast are also obvious in the colour, which is never
darker than a deep orange-amber.

The tea’s ‘attack’ when you take a sip into your
mouth is strongly spicy, indeed redolent of powdered cinnamon, but the whole is
not very distinctive in flavour: from mid-palate on it recedes into a fairly
vague Wuyi typicity, before a well tannic and perhaps slightly mineral finish.
I have found that the most enjoyable sessions are those with a very high dosage
(6–7g / 100ml of water) and short infusion times. There’s never much roast in
the foreground but a very strong spiciness especially in the first infusion
(later, it tends to wane rather quickly).

The short-livedness of the cinnamonny aroma and
the somewhat cloudy appearance led me to think this tea could actually be
a fake. I mean a tea artificially flavoured with powdered spice. Mind you,
should my intuition be confirmed, it’s been done in a fairly subtle,
well-handled way, but I couldn’t help thinking that heady tree bark aroma was a
little too obvious and disjointed to be really natural. (It’s fairly common to
see China’s most popular tea sbeing counterfeited by artificial aromatisation: ‘Milk
Oolong’ – see review here – is another frequent example). Looking at the wet leaf it’s obviously a plantation tea: leaves are thin and fragile with litte structure, but processing has been good.

Dragon Tea House are a reputable merchant and I’m
keen to give them the benefit of a doubt on this tea, which if you disregard
where the spicy aroma is coming from, is actually a nicely balanced, moreish
tea that’s excellent value for money.

A Tale of Three Shuixians

Comparative tasting rocks. Tasting different things together is a perfect wake-me-up. You become more perceptive to the minute differences and analogies even of very similar things.

The setup.

I recently realised that among my 50+ tea reviews on this blog, one important tea family was still missing: Wuyi. ‘Cliff’ or ‘rock’ tea from eastern China’s Fujian. The Bordeaux of tea. Many, many tea drinkers’ favourite oolong. It’s not my favourite, but as every wine drinker with Bordeaux, I have several bins in the tea cellar, and enjoy them from time to time.

Shuixian (Western translation: Water Sprite) is the most popular and widely available oolong tea from Wuyi (and elsewhere in Fujian). It’s a generic name that refers both to a varietal of tea tree and to the style of tea that is obtained from it. As all Wuyi oolongs this is over 50%-oxidised and medium- to heavy-roasted. Of all Wuyi teas, Shuixian is considered to see the highest roast, though as will all things tea this varies from producer to producer.

Here I have a comparative look at three Shuixians. One was purchased in Poland from online merchant eHerbata and I infer it’s a 2008; it cost the equivalent of 6€ / 100g. (Hereafter referred to as sample ‘A’). Shuixian ‘B’ is the 2008 Premium Laocong (‘Old Tree’) from Dragon Tea House ($20 / 100g; now available in the 2009 vintage). ‘C’ is the 2008 Traditional Shuixian from Jing Tea ($26 / 100g).

Dry leaf appearance is similar in all three. We have the typical Wuyi long, twisted leaves that vary in colour from very deep green to almost black, but mostly are medium and medium dark brown. There’s little qualitative information to be drawn from the visual aspect alone, other than ‘A’ and ‘B’ contain a varying proportion of broken leaf while ‘C’ is the most intact (something you can’t really see on the photo above). Also, A is altogether lighter in colour with a degree of light brown leaves; hard to say why for the moment but it’s a hint I’ll elaborate on later.

As is common practice with Wuyi oolong, I brewed these teas in a gongfu succession of very short steeps on a large amount of leaf (4.5g for 75 ml of water; 15s, 15s, 25s, 30s, 40s, 50s, 1m etc.). The colour of the first brew is rather similar:

Tea ‘A’ came out rather unpleasant. It’s dominated by roast, and tastes both a little stale and overbrewed, with an untasty wet wood and soaked raisin profile. Bitterish and tannic in an unpleasant, unclean way on the finish. Later brewings are a little nicer, coming close ot a black tea in expression with a mulchy, sweaty character. This tea has much deteriorated since fall 2008 when I bought it (at the time it was a basic but essentially correct and pleasant tea). And it makes me think it’s not necessarily a 2008 but perhaps an older stock.

Tea ‘B’ gives a solid performance. It’s a chewy, rustic rendition of Shuixian with little in terms of finesse, and it’s slightly dominated by roast. The reason I compared Wuyi tea with Bordeaux is not casual, as I tend to think of roast in teas as similar to oak in wines. Oak is very easy to overdo. In youth, many red wines are dominated by oak; some shake this off with ageing, some don’t. This Shuixian probably won’t integrate its roast even if you age it for years. It’s also a tannic, mildly astringent tea. Good quality here: at least tastes like the real thing. I particularly like the middle infusions here (#2–5), where the roast recedes a bit, leaving an impressive, almost physical thickness to this oily brew. Later, chocolate comes back again.

Tea ‘C’ is quite different from the other two. It has a delightful clean bitter chocolate aroma to the warmed leaves, and shows lighter than ‘A’ or ‘B’, especially in later infusions whose colour is never darker than deep amber. Never an overpowering tea, this seems less roasted, with the leaf oxidation influencing the profile. It’s quite assertive throughout the middle infusions, semi-rich and rather buttery than milky (milk-chocolatey is often used as a mouthfeel descriptor for Shuixian). A very enjoyable tea with a transparent, high-quality profile and considerable finesse for a Wuyi tea.

Here’s a photo of the final 20-minute brewing:

As you can see tea ‘C’ is quite lighter in colour while ‘A’ and ‘B’ still brew very dark. Let’s have a closer look at the expired leaves now:

Here the observations from the dry leaf and the comparative tasting find their final confirmation. ‘A’ and ‘B’ are showing a high amount of broken leaf, leaf fragments, and in the case of ‘A’ also of stems. ‘C’ has the largest and most intact leaves that are also the lightest in colour; they open almost completely, showing that the roasting was at its lightest and most skillful here (long, careful roasting preserved the leaves better while quick commercial roast in electric machines at high temperatures tends to burn the leaves). Tea ‘A’ has leaves of different colour that remain twisted and rolled: the poorest roasting shows here. ‘B’ looks almost as good as ‘C’ but the leaves are consistently fragmented. It’s a slightly lower grade apparently than ‘C’, although the cup is quite pleasant.

It was an interesting tasting also in how to buy teas. Whether on the internet or in a physical shop we’re often confronted with elaborate prose on a given tea’s origins, and few technical details on how it was actually made. ‘Premium’, ‘Supreme’, ‘Traditional’ are meaningless terms that add to the confusion. Looking at the dry leaf and, if you have a chance, at the expired one (some online merchants post photos of these) can reasonably help you make an educated purchase. But best is, of course, trying the tea before you shell out the $25.

2008 Traditional Shuixian (Jing Tea), expired leaf after 10 infusions.

2007 Heavy-Roasted Winter Shanlinshi

Outstanding roasted oolong from Taiwan – perfect tea to drink on today’s chilly weather.