At the end of the day
I really shouldn’t line my pots up like that with cats around.
At the end of the day
I really shouldn’t line my pots up like that with cats around.
Categories: Objects · Old Xanga posts
Tagged: teaware, yixing
The experiment, I must say, was not conclusive. Of course, that’s probably predictable right from the get go — almost no tea experiment is conclusive. However…. having tried pouring my water quite hard and fast today, I must say that it seems as though the tea came out a little more sour, and a little more bitter, without as much aroma…
Could it be that different?
Well, I think there are a few things that a high, slow pour will do, some of which have been mentioned by comments in yesterday’s post. The first is, of course, temperature — a higher pour means the water is ever so slightly colder. Also, the water is in touch with tea a little longer — of course you can time yourself so that your fast pour stays in the pot just as long, but the combination of slightly lower temperatures and longer time… might be interesting.
There’s something else too. If you pour harder, it distrubs the leaves and potentially change the way the tea brews. When I prepare a pot for tea, I always shake the pot a little so that it settles down — the leaves will be more tightly packed. When I do the slow pour, the leaves move very, very little. If you move the leaves around, it changes the tea — I think anybody knows that. So, the movement might also have something to do with it.
Of course, all this might be placebo and I’m just kidding myself. Blind test might be better, but that’s quite hard to achieve….
Categories: Old Xanga posts
Tagged: skills, water
Another topic that came up during my conversations with Sherab is pouring water into the pot. Think it doesn’t matter?
Well… the story he told me is like this
A certain famous tea master, who shall remain nameless, was brewing tea for a few people somewhere in China. Sherab has a friend who went. Two teas were made. The first was a wet stored cooked puerh, and it tasted like crap. The tea supposedly gave off the “locking the throat” feeling, where one feels as though the throat is closing up and is often attributed by mainland Chinese as a sign of wet storage — a bad side effect, so to speak. The second tea, which, while not specified (to me) I assume is also of a similar genre, had no such effect. Second tea is better, no?
Well… not quite. Apparently, when the master made the first tea, he poured water from up high and in a rather violent fashion, so the water hit the pot hard. The second tea he didn’t do that. Afterwards, as Sherab’s friend knows said master, he went and asked. Master said, “when you do that (high and fast pouring) with wet stored cooked puerh, you will always produce the “locked throat” effect”. Pray, tell, why would a venerable tea master do such a thing so that a tea will come out tasting worse? Well, I’m sure you all, my intelligent readers, must know the answer, and it involves profit, if you need a hint.
The fact that most tea masters out there have a profit motive is not something you need me to tell you. However, the significant part of this story is the pouring – how do you pour water into the pot affects the way the tea tastes. I remember, very early on in my own tea career, I was told that when making oolongs, one should pour from high up, in a small stream, gently, and slowly. Puerh, on the other hand, should be treated with a stronger stream, but NOT high up — pour low. When pouring from pot/fairness cup into the cups, ALWAYS pour low — don’t splash around like some bad youtube videos do.
Over time, I must say I’ve gotten sloppy with my water pouring technique. It’s easy to get lazy, but I decided to try that out again today. I pulled out my aged baozhong, a tea I know pretty well, and one of my pots, and made sure that whenever I made that tea, I poured in a small stream from up high. The result? My tea seems to be a little less sour, and a little smoother. I’m going to try tomorrow, with the exact same wares, but with a different water pouring style. Let’s see what happens, and of course, I’ll report back.
Categories: Old Xanga posts
Tagged: skills, water
One of the topics that came up during Sherab’s visit on Saturday was traditional storage. Traditional storage is sometimes viewed with mythical vile — it’s bad, it’s awful, don’t do it, it’ll kill you, etc. I’ve heard versions of all that.
I think slowly, people have come to realize that there are two kinds of traditional storage, so to speak — good and bad. Good traditional storage can produce great results — witness all the “classic” puerh cakes from the 50s onward, most of which received some traditional storage treatment at some point in their life. Others can be incredibly bad — cakes that are moldy inside out, growing not only the usual (and all together ok) white stuff, but also yellow, red, black… you name it. The first kind is welcomed, the second should be avoided.
I think Cloud at some point or another wrote a few things for the Puerh Teapot magazine (Chinese version) that talks about traditional storage. I am not sure, but I don’t think they’ve been worked into English through the Art of Tea. I suspect, though, that it will be a useful exercise. Essentially (and this is also from my friends who are more knowledgable about this sort of thing than me) what happens is traditional storage is only one phase — usually not a very long one — of a cake’s storage life. It should not stay permanently in a “traditional” storage condition, which generally means high humidity and often accompanied by higher heat. After that, however, the cakes should be aired out and left alone in drier climes — storage units that are ventilated and not in the basement of buildings. Much of an aged tea’s life is actually spent in such storage units, not traditional basements.
Also, traditional does not imply spraying water all around or anything like that. In fact, sometimes it might even be necessary to control the humidity by putting things that will absorb moisture (I believe chalk is used — spread around the floor, although my memory is fuzzy on this). The cakes that are stored in traditional storage should never touch the floor, the walls, or anything other than each other, really — they’re put on racks so avoiding the very damp floor and they’re usually placed a little away from the walls to avoid condensation, etc. You don’t want them THAT traditional.
Ideally, teas that were traditional stored should spend time outside of that storage to age, and to also let the “traditional storage” flavour go away a bit. It will never entirely disappear, but it does dissipate over time. I drank some traditionally stored loose puerh today that has mellowed considerably comparing to when I first got it some two or three years ago. It is now quite drinkable, smooth, without any sort of nasty mustiness, and most importantly, it can be rebrewed many times (I think I drank around 20 today). Cooked puerh will be lucky to last 7.
So if you got some stuff that smells musty and looks a bit nasty, don’t give up on it and say it’s bad and throw it away (again, this only applies to stuff with white dusting on it — yellow, red, or really any other colour mould should be avoided). Give it time, let it air out, and after a few years, it might surprise you.
Categories: Old Xanga posts
Tagged: storage, traditional stored puerh
I remember when I first started out drinking puerh, mostly by way of friends who had much better stuff and who made it for me, I was often told that the best infusions for an older puerh starts with infusion 5.
Yes, it begins with infusion 5 or so. Everything before is full of mixed flavours and merely a build up. In the words of one, you can pretty much toss everything up to that point.
Contrast that view with many bloggers, who generally think that by infusion 5, a tea is ending or close to its end. Anything above and beyond is, in American parlance, gravy. I think at the heart of this difference is a fundamentally different style of making tea, but just as important, a fundamentally different conception of what one should get from a tea.
Of course, when I say something like this I’m probably overgeneralizing a little. Yet, I do think that from what I can gather from many blogs out there, the largest focus is on the initial flavour of a tea, the strong feeling one gets from the first two or three cups and how the tea performs in the mouth in those fleeting moments. Is it apricot or is it peach? Or, maybe straw? Grapes? Mud? The list goes on.
I don’t think we often see a lot of discussion of how a tea reacts in the mouth after the initial impressions. That, I think, is partly because teas are about flavours in the West — what does it taste like? That, in turn, is something that I think a product of drinking a lot of greens, low oxidation oolongs, and that sort of thing. For those things, flavour is indeed often very important. They also tend to die faster.
But even in these teas, what the tea does to you and how long it does the same thing to you are very important, but I rarely see this sort of thing mentioned in reviews online. Discussions of infusions of tea after maybe 4 or 5 is usually an afterthought.
Are my impressions remotely correct? I often feel the best kinds of teas are the ones that keep giving after 10, 15, 20 infusions. But I don’t tihnk I ever really see anybody talk about brewing a tea out that far, aside from a very few individuals. Are these not mentioned because they’re deemed unimportant? Or is this simply not done? I’d like to know.
Categories: Old Xanga posts
Tagged: aged puerh, musings, skills, traditional stored puerh
Back on the sample train — this time another sample (it does seem like they’re endless, aren’t they?) from Will. Sample D. I opened it and saw dancong leaves
So it must be dancong! Light fired, from what I can tell by the smell and look. And indeed it is
I think it’s no secret that I’m not a big fan of light fired oolongs in general, and dancongs in particular. I don’t find them interesting, and more often than not, they make me feel unwell. With that in mind, I brewed this tea fairly lightly, using only minimal amounts of leaves (pot maybe 1/5 to 1/4 full of dry leaves) and fairly quick infusions. The result is quite pleasant — it’s a nice tea, even though it’s not really my kind of thing. My fiance, however, really liked it, and said this tea “smells like a man”. It’s a mixture of “good natural clean scent and some sort of cologne”. No, I don’t wear cologne.
Obviously, such subtle aromas elided me. I only tasted a fruity medium (not quite low) roast dancong, processed fairly well so that the bitterness is not very evident, and has qi and tenacity. It lasted quite a few infusions, despite the fact that it’s a dancong — which generally don’t last as long. Perhaps this is one of Tea Habitat’s patrician level dancongs? Or one of Will’s many other hidden gems? Only he knows the answer.
This is certainly the best dancong sample among the ones that Will sent me, and gave me a good reason to use my severely underused dancong pot. I still remember once upon a time when I was drinking that sort of thing everyday. That no longer happens…
Categories: Old Xanga posts
Tagged: Chinese oolong, dancong
Yesterday before we parted ways, Sherab gave me some tea from a canister he brought over
The canister of tea is clearly marked — it’s some competition tea from Taiwan from 1991. That’s a good 17 years ago, and he obtained it from a friend of his who’s been holding on to it for a while now. And now, I got a bit of it. Obviously impatient, I brewed it today.
The tea gives me a good indicator of what to expect from, say, an aged oolong that’s about 15 years old, stored, probably for much of its life, in an air tight, possibly sealed environment. The tea is, compared to most of the stuff I’ve purchased in Taiwan, quite green, but by no means young — you can easily feel the aging in this tea, as there’s no bitterness to be had, and also plenty of sweetness. There’s also a light, very faint sour note, but given the amount of leaves I used (generous, for the pot anyway) and the sometimes rather long infusions I subjected it to, it’s really nothing. I have a baozhong that is at a similar stage of development — possibly a little younger, but not much.
This does tell me though that something around 15 years old and stored in, say, canisters for most (if not all) of its life is going to taste something like what I just did today, which is quite fine, as it is. If the final goal of all this aging is to obtain a tea that is long lasting, easy to brew, sweet, and most importantly, without the need of reroasting, then this gives me a good confidence boost that it is, indeed, possible to obtain such teas via one’s own aging. The biggest temptation, of course, is to drink them too early… and that, I think, is a shame, for nicely aged oolongs can be truly wonderful.
Thanks Sherab for the sample 🙂
Categories: Old Xanga posts
Tagged: aged oolong
Yesterday before we parted ways, Sherab gave me some tea from a canister he brought over
The canister of tea is clearly marked — it’s some competition tea from Taiwan from 1991. That’s a good 17 years ago, and he obtained it from a friend of his who’s been holding on to it for a while now. And now, I got a bit of it. Obviously impatient, I brewed it today.
The tea gives me a good indicator of what to expect from, say, an aged oolong that’s about 15 years old, stored, probably for much of its life, in an air tight, possibly sealed environment. The tea is, compared to most of the stuff I’ve purchased in Taiwan, quite green, but by no means young — you can easily feel the aging in this tea, as there’s no bitterness to be had, and also plenty of sweetness. There’s also a light, very faint sour note, but given the amount of leaves I used (generous, for the pot anyway) and the sometimes rather long infusions I subjected it to, it’s really nothing. I have a baozhong that is at a similar stage of development — possibly a little younger, but not much.
This does tell me though that something around 15 years old and stored in, say, canisters for most (if not all) of its life is going to taste something like what I just did today, which is quite fine, as it is. If the final goal of all this aging is to obtain a tea that is long lasting, easy to brew, sweet, and most importantly, without the need of reroasting, then this gives me a good confidence boost that it is, indeed, possible to obtain such teas via one’s own aging. The biggest temptation, of course, is to drink them too early… and that, I think, is a shame, for nicely aged oolongs can be truly wonderful.
Thanks Sherab for the sample 🙂
Categories: Old Xanga posts
Tagged: aged oolong
It’s always nice to have a meeting with like minded tea friends, especially when you’re in the middle of Ohio.
The owner of Mount Awakening Aroma came by today to drink some tea together with me, a sort of return visit from last time when I went over. It’s an hour drive away, but he came out all the way here in the middle of nowhere anyway.
We quickly got down to business, going through four teas and I think four or maybe five kettles of water in total. What’s always better than the tea, though, is the company. It was certainly one of the more intellectual conversations I’ve ever had with regards to tea, and I thoroughly enjoyed the discussion of what a puerh is, what makes certain teas age, etc etc. Thank you, and I hope we can meet up again before I leave this part of the country 🙂
Categories: Old Xanga posts
Tagged: friends
Adrian L from the San Francisco area sent me a few puerh samples along with the aged oolongs (which have been consumed long ago). I tried these three over the last three days.
They were labelled A, B, and C. I tried them in order of A, C, and B, and liked C the best. None of them were, I think, small workshop tea — they all tasted sort of like big factory teas of one form or another to me, with C being most like that and perhaps A least like it. I liked C the best — it was the most balanced tea of the three, tasting more or less like Menghai stuff. A was ok, a bit weak, tastes like Taiwan stored tea. B was odd — sour, a bit unpleasant in taste initially, lacking fragrance especially compared with C, and so, in compairson, not that interesting.
Turns out A is a 2001 Fuhai Yiwu, B is the “Ancient Tea Horse Rd” Yiwu (I’m only told this was a YSLLC merchandise) and C a 1998 Fuhai Yiwu/Menghai blend. I wonder if the blending of the cake has anything to do with the fact that I liked it the best, or, for a simpler explanation, the extra few years made the difference.
It’s hard to say what’s what in this case…. but it was certainly fun trying samples of varying makes that are of similar age. Which reminds me — I still have some sort-of-aged samples from Aaron that I haven’t drunk yet. Maybe I should get to those….
Categories: Old Xanga posts
Tagged: young puerh
Yeah whisky prices have been leaking too, as well as luxury watches. I wrote a post maybe a decade ago…