(6) 2009 Shuei Shincha

The good people at Marukyu seem to have a preference for asamushi [short-steamed] teas. This is another very well-presented tea with intact leaves of a consistent dark emerald green colour, no fragmentation, no fannings. Visually it is similar to the 2009 Shigaraki and 2009 Uji Gold from the same merchant I’ve reviewed before. However there is a mild variation introduced in the aroma. This tea smells almost erotic – it is so intense, sweet and creamy, full and vegetal while staying really elegant. Smelling the freshly opened can is almost as satisfying as a proper brewing session. In the background there is some very pleasant baked bread light roast.

A standard session with 2g / 100ml, water at 70C and 60 seconds for the first infusion reveals a tea that is both typical and excitingly good. The colour is medium light with as many shades of green as of gold. Flavour-wise this is eminently fresh and has so much presence and subdued, understated intensity. The concentration of a cup of tea is largely a factor of your brewing parameters but what I define as ‘presence’ is derived from the leaf quality. I rarely wax lyrical but this shincha has a haunting finesse that makes the ‘liquid jade’ metaphor sound very adequate. The leafy, spinach-like vegetality of this tea (usual in any sencha) is subordinated to its evocative character of ripe summer fruits and flowers; for me, this is the hallmark of a truly exciting tea.

First infusion with ‘standard parameters’: 2g, 70C, 60s.

In my previous post on the 2009 Uji Gold from Marukyu I mentioned that with this low-steamed category of Japanese sencha green tea, in order to boost the flavour of your infusion, you have two options to depart from the ‘standard’ sencha brewing parameters: increasing leaf dosage and/or water temperature. Applying these with discrimination, you will obtain more body and flavour without extracting too much bitterness from the leaves. (Grassy, tangy bitterness and ‘fishy’ flavours are a reason why Japanese teas – a large portion of which is long-steamed, fukamushi – are usually steeped briefly from a small dosage of leaves). With this very high-quality Shuei tea, I came up with another solution.

I’ll call it ‘gyokuro technique’, in that it consists of treating sencha tea [made from leaves grown in full sun] a bit like gyokuro [a different grade of Japanese tea made from leaves that are shaded]. In my experiment I increased dosage to 4.5g of leaf / 100ml of water and increased steeping time to 2 minutes, but lowered the water temperature to 55C. In this way, extraction of colour, flavour and nutrients from the tea is changed into a ‘softer’ but ‘deeper’ one. The colour becomes a little more intense but keeps the same greenish-golden register. The aroma is a little more intense too, but again doesn’t change substantially. The major change affects the texture. The tea becomes really thick with a glutinous, oily feel to it, and there is a very distinctive brothy, salty character that is defined as umami [the fifth taste; see more about it in this post], although it’s a little more salt-driven than umami is usually considered to be. (When discussing the concept, I’m often told I should identify it as a flavour impression independent of saltiness).

The distinctive salinity of this 2009 Shuei shincha reminded me of a great mineral white wine from such places as Cinqueterre in Italy or Santorini in Greece. Its eminent quality is also confirmed when you brew it the wrong way. Heavily overbrewed with 85C water, this is shown packing in some considerable power for asamushi, but the bitterness it develops is clean and excitingly fruit-flavoured. Whereas the similarly profiled Shigaraki Shincha from Marukyu was a very tasty but eminently simple tea this has a lot of dimension. Is it three times better as the price would suggest? No. Would I buy it again at the same price? Very definitely so.

(3) 2009 Fukamushi Supreme Shincha

Let’s have a look at the 2009 Shincha Fukamushi Supreme. It’s another best-selling tea from O-Cha. Produced from the Yabukita varietal in the central region of Shizuoka. Priced at $23 / 100g.

Dry leaf: living up to its fukamushi [heavy- or long-steamed] name, this is very fragmented with few intact leaves. If you look at yesterday’s photo of the 2009 Yutakamidori, the difference is subtle but visible, as between chumushi [medium-steamed] and fukamushi. The most remarkable thing about this Fukamushi Supreme is the dry leaf aroma. It’s among the most intensely perfumed teas I’ve encountered. It’s a cornucopia of tangy exotic fruits, citrus, pomelo, melon, guyava, kumquat, you name it, with a subdued background grassiness and mild roast; a bouquet that positively reminds me of Marlborough Sauvignon Blanc wine from New Zealand. (The aroma also shows you how vital freshness is to this type of tea; four weeks after I opened the pack, it’s not quite the same thing, even stored in a double-lid tin).

Brewed as usually in the present series of reviews (2g / 120ml of water / 70C / 60 seconds), this tea pours a lighter colour than expected. While some chopped leaf residue makes it into the cup, the colour remains a pale green. It’s only with the second infusion (even if very short) that you get that legendary deep opaque emerald colour, like unfiltered olive oil from Central Italy:

Infusion no. 1 (60 seconds @ 70C) and 2 (25 seconds @ 80C).

The aroma is unfruity, fairly brothy, with a distinctive umami character. It’s also rather glutinous in texture from infusion #2 onwards. A dense, chewy tea with some dryness on the finish (as much a factor of astringency as texture). Interestingly, it isn’t exactly crisp, and technically has little acidity; the mouthfeel is similar to a light broth (if you cook it without lemon!) or miso soup. The melony fruit at core is soft and sweetish though, not citrusy, remaining the single fruit reference even in overinfusions at 95C. Second infusions at their densest move towards a more vegetal, chewy bean character (French beans).

Many Japanese tea drinkers have a preference for the full-on style of fukamushi teas, and I can see why this particular Fukamushi Supreme is so popular. Personally, I much like asamushi [short-steamed] Japanese greens, and so approached this tea with no positive bias. It is wholesome, of obviously good quality, and I’m perhaps doing it injustice expecting a bit more poise and zest.

As an aside, it’s one of the most short-lived teas I’ve come across, in the sense of an obvious drop in quality and complexity within a few weeks from opening the (nitrogen-filled as per O-Cha declaration) pack. While my inaugural sessions revealed some limey and grassy tang on the finish and were fairly vivid, four weeks later I am left with a simpler, flatter profile. This is understandable, fukamushi being one of the most fragmented leaf teas out there, and with the higher surface of exposure to air it just loses freshness so much more quickly than whole-leaf stuff.

(2) 2009 Yutakamidori Shincha

Other posts in this series:
2008 Gyokuro Kame-Jiru-Shi (O-Cha)
2008 Gyokuro Tama Homare (Marukyu)
2008 Kabusecha Takamado (Marukyu)
2008 Karigane Otowa (Marukyu)
2008 Sencha Miyabi (O-Cha)
2009 Shincha Fukamushi Supreme (O-Cha)
2009 Shincha Shigaraki (Marukyu)
2009 Shincha Shuei (Marukyu)
2009 Shincha Uji Gold (Marukyu)

In the second installment of my Japanese series I have a look at the 2009 Yutakamidori Shincha from reputed online merchant O-Cha. (As an aside, I want to praise their customer service: my original $100+ order went missing somewhere between Japan and Poland, and they’ve replaced it free of charge, even shipping by EMS. It’s the sort of attitude that guarantees a re-purchase there). At $25 / 100g it is priced at the upper middle end of the range for sencha (though objectively expensive).

Other than being a perennial favourite from O-Cha and one of the more consistently high-rating tea among writers and bloggers, the interest of this tea is that it is made with a single tea variety (‘cultivar’, ‘breed’, or ‘tea tree’): Yutakamidori. While Chinese tea is more often than not a single variety product, Japanese teas are frequently blended, and when they’re not, they are predominantly from the hardy Yabukita variety, which accounts for over 80% of plantings in Japan. Yutakamidori is one of the more popular cultivars, responsible for between 3 and 5% (according to various estimates) of tea plantations. It’s a variety typical of southern tea-growing regions: this example is from Kagoshima. Yutakamidori is often described as mild and sweet, yielding a brew that’s less grassy and pungent than Yabukita.

The loose leaf is far more fragmented than the Shigaraki Shincha I reviewed yesterday. While the latter was lightly steamed, leaving the leaf reasonably intact, this Yutakamidori saw a heavier steaming that resulted in more leaf breakage and a fair amount of fannings. O-Cha are classing this as heavy-steamed, but I think it’s more towards medium steaming [chumushi], or perhaps chumushi+ as there is still some intact leaf. The dry leaf smell is very intense and delightfully fruity; from the O-Cha sencha offerings I’ve ordered this year (reviews to follow in the next few days), this is the least tangy, and the fruitiest. There’s also a mild baked bread roast to be discerned when the leaves are warmed in the pot.

Look at the colour: a clear light green-yellow, becoming only partly cloudy in subsequent infusions. It’s another shincha that is, to evoke the descriptor generally used for this class of Japanese tea, not really ‘bold’. As Yutakamidori should be, it is mild, sweet, and fruity. There is never any citric or grassy tang that I associate with tea from other Japanese varieties. Instead, the fruit register centers around melon, papaya and lychee. Later on the palate there is a mealy, grainy, cerealy, perhaps ricey impression that has a bit of umami feel to it. Brewed conservatively at 70C with a minute or so of steeping, it doesn’t really develop much in terms of bitterness or kick. It is a clean, not to say pure, tea that in my experience requires a slightly higher dosage: 2.5 or even 2.8g per 100 ml of water.

It’s a very satisfying tea, a typical chumushi with good texture. But it’s not a monster of expression or intensity: the key characteristic is balance. The high quality is emphasised when you overbrew it: it becomes bitterish and strong, but maintains the same profile and isn’t really unpleasant. It’s the first time I’m tasting this renowned tea from O-Cha, and it’s living up to its fame.

This is chumushi.

Japanese fortnight (1): 2009 Shigaraki Shincha

Weeks are inexorably running since the spring tea harvest in Japan so it’s time to review this year’s releases (with a few 2008s thrown in) from O-Cha and Marukyu-Koyamaen. I hope my wine readers will enjoy this series as the next two weeks will be dedicated to Japanese tea reviews.
This 2009 Shigaraki Shincha is the second-cheapest from Marukyu-Koyamaen (where I’ve received excellent service, and can heartily recommend this shop). At ¥900 / 90g can (and the cans are pretty nice: see photo), it is fairly inexpensive for a quality sencha. Shigaraki is a town historically renowned for its pottery; located next to Uji, I have no confirmation whether the leaves for this tea do indeed come from Shigaraki.

I have brewed this tea as all other Japanese greens in my reviews, alternating 150ml glass pot, 180ml Tokoname kyusu pot, and my favourite Korean clay pot (which you can see more extensively in this post), dosing at 2g / 100ml and with water at 70C, 75C, 80C (I find myself stopping by the third brew almost universally with Japanese teas; the first one is almost always the most enjoyable and revealing). Where there is a deviation from this regime I will indicate this.

As you can see from the picture, the dry leaf is of high quality: consistent, well-processed, good-looking asamushi [light-steamed] that fills the drinker with high expectations. The leaf has little distinctive aroma to speak of, lightly vegetal with little intensity; there’s no perceptible roast.

Brewing no. 1 (90 seconds at 70C).

In essence, this is a fairly light tea. It brews a light, transparent yellow-green colour, and is noticeably low in aroma. The flavour, however, is satisfying. No great intensity but a clean character, quite mild and unaggressive with no astringency whatsoever if brewed conservatively. It’s vegetal, leafy (but not grassy), less tangy than most sencha, with decent length. It’s not really thick but has a vaguely milky mildness to the texture, true to its asamushi peerage. Definitely uncomplex but I like it for its clean and classic profile. It’s also fairly forgiving: you really have to beat it hard on the head (i.e., going above 80C and dosing >3g) to develop any bitterness, and even then it’s of the clean invigorating kind.
Shincha [first spring harvest of sencha] is often defined as bold and powerful, and tea vendors routinely warn you against overbrewing it. As with sencha, there’s a wide variety of styles and it all really depends on the region, tea cultivar, grade, processing technique etc. This tea is everything but ‘bold’, which is fine with me. For the price, it’s utterly good, and I highly recommend it.