A Tea Addict's Journal

Entries categorized as ‘Old Xanga posts’

Midnight tea

April 22, 2009 · 4 Comments

Salsero on Teachat gave me some tea recently, two greens, to be precise (and one darjeeling). I drink greens fairly casually. My family, being from the Shanghai region, mostly drink green teas, usually longjing or biluochun. My grandfather drinks nothing but tea all day. My first tea revelation was a high grade longjing, showing me how not all teas are created equal, and starting me down this very slippery slope on which I’m still sliding, head first, into the abyss….

Anyway, back to the point…

The tea I ended up making today is Yangyan Gouqing, a Zhejiang green that’s slightly rolled. I made it the old-fashioined way, in a gaiwan and sipping from time to time, with no parameters to speak of.

It’s mostly one bud two leaves. Very sweet, somewhat aromatic, and pretty good for the price. Steeped too long and it gets a little rough, but that’s because I used a generous amount of leaves. Some might say I’m wasting good green tea, but that’s how 99% of people drink green tea, steeped grandpa style in a cup or mug or bottle, and I don’t pretend to be any different from them. I rarely drink greens these days, but doing this takes me back to when I used to drink more of them, sampling all kinds of longjing to find out which one’s better. These days I probably don’t even get through 100g of green in a year.

Thanks Sal.

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Ceteris paribus

April 20, 2009 · 1 Comment

I think everybody who has been through an economics class has probably learned of the term “ceteris paribus”, most likely in the first lecture about supply and demand. The idea that you keep all but one variables constant in order to evaluate what is happening to the one variable you’re interested in is pretty much the basis for most scientific inquiry, and in the case of tea, it can also be put to good use.

I wanted to try testing kettles again using teas I don’t know at all. So I picked up a sample I got from Jim of Puerhshop, the 2003 Longma Yiwu. I’ve never had this tea before, and had no idea what to expect.

Three days worth of drinking:

Day 1

Day 2

Day 3

Day 1 was using a silver kettle, day 2 was the same setup, using my regular tetsubin, and day 3 was with the tetsubin, but with a new (well, old, but new for me) pot.

I think it is almost impossible to tell any difference from the way the tea looks in the pictures. I can say, however, that silver, as I suspected, was not partiuclarly kind to the tea. It gave it that typical clarity and crispness that a silver kettle generally imparts on water, but lacks that depth and complexity that I tend to like in teas like this. It did, however, give it a nice mouthfeel, and was very smooth. In comparison, on day 2 when I made it with my tetsubin, the tea came out much more intense in taste. It might have been a little bit rougher, but that was more than offset by the additional character in the cup. On day 3, with the new pot, the tea again changed a bit — this time giving it a little different profile, maybe a little more throatiness. The difference, however, is not as obvious as compared with day 1 vs day 2.

As for the tea itself — it’s quite nice, pleasant, certainly not a bad tea. Whether it’s worth the admission price is probably dependent on individual taste. Some may find the tea to be a little on the bland side. I don’t, but I know people who probably would.

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Outdoor tea

April 19, 2009 · 6 Comments

Or more exactly, semi-outdoor tea. It’s always nice to have a chance to sit outside and drink tea, rather than cooped up in my own little room facing a wall. The weather is nice and finally, warm enough for tea drinking outside, so onto the balcony I went.

A little traditionally stored, loose puerh.

I like drinking these things. They are easy to make and pleasant to drink, as long as it’s stored right. I also like drinking them out of bigger cups. Small cups, especially tiny ones, are not meant for puerh. Drink all the oolongs you want in the small cups, but puerh, in particular those of the traditional storage variety, belong to bigger cups.

I’ve also noticed a steady drift towards larger teaware once again, having eschewed it for a long time. For a while, smaller pots/cups was the rule of the day, maybe partly because I was under heavier influence from those whom I first learned about gongfu tea. However, as I drink more, I find myself prefering slightly larger wares. Perhaps it makes more sense for the lone tea drinker who has to consume it in isolation. Maybe if I always have friends to share it with, smaller cups will once again make their appearance.

This tea today revealed a new side to me as I was listening to the cardinals sing their songs, with my cats watching them rather intently (and perhaps menacingly). The tea tastes a lot more floral and, at the same time, spicy than when I brew them in a larger pot with a view of just gulping them down for general consumption. It’s just better. Maybe it’s the smaller (relatively) pot focusing the flavour of the tea better, or maybe the environment helped me concentrate, at least until I was chased away from the downstairs neighbour grilling their meat on their barbeque.

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Moving sale

April 17, 2009 · 2 Comments

Being a young academic means you pretty much have to deal with the nomadic lifestyle, at least until you find a stable job. I have to move again in a few months, and as anybody who’s followed this blog for a while would know, I’ve accumulated a lot of things in the past few years.

So in the interest of lessening the load of things I have to carry, as well as putting some of these items to better use than sitting on my shelves collecting dust, here are some teaware that I’ve dug up so far that I am hoping will find a better home somewhere else.

In the interst of not cluttering up the blog with too many messages, please inquire about prices or ask for more details/pictures by emailing me. My address is marshaln at gmail. The list of items here are

5 cups
1 silver plated kyusu
1 tea caddy
1 tetsubin
1 teapot + yuzamashi
5 chataku (one set)

Most of these I’ve used at one time or another, some rather extensively. They are no longer items that I use for my tea drinking, however, and will probably be more useful to some others. I also have some other cups that I am thinking of parting ways with. If you’re so inclined, shoot me an email too.

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Adventures in loose puerh

April 17, 2009 · 4 Comments

They come in bags, jars, boxes, cases…. loose puerh come in all shape and sizes, and they are notoriously hard to identify if you are only looking at the dry leaves. What is this, for example?

Even without the problem of trying to identify a tea through pictures, loose puerh of all types are difficult to classify without a taste test. They all look the same, especially if they’ve been aged a bit through wet storage — dark, musty, with a fine coating of white sometimes, loose, usually broken, and nondescript. The telltale signs that you can use to identify cooked vs aged in a cake don’t work so well with loose, because they are not as obvious. Throw in the wet storage, and everything gets even harder.

It doesn’t help when you are dealing with the brewed version either

What, pray tell, is this anyway? Any number of combination of factors can give you this.

Wet leaves give you more of an answer

But even then, heavily wet stored tea, or border tea, can give you something that looks like this. Ultimately, it’s what goes in the mouth that counts, and from that I can pretty safely say this is a lightly wet stored cooked loose puerh. It has that mellowness that you only get with cooked tea — aged raw, even if heavily wet stored, doesn’t taste quite the same. Also, those tend to revert to a greener/browner complexion when brewed heavily, while this tea never did. The price is a confirmation of this: at $10 CDN/100g, it’s pretty cheap.

I got this as a sample and was asked to identify this “20 years Yiwu”. That already rings a few alarm bells — no such thing exists, not because Yiwu didn’t exist, but because back in 1989, Yiwu produced very little tea, and nobody paid attention to exactly where the tea was coming from — certainly not enough for a bag of tea to be able to trace its origins to the holiest of mountains. The leaves are quite broken, so there’s really not much you can tell from that. The price is far too cheap. Cheap things can be good, and expensive is no guarantee of quality, but known good things, such as a 20 years old Yiwu, is not likely to be knowing sold at a great discount.

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1987 Hualien aged oolong

April 15, 2009 · 1 Comment

I don’t know if it has anything to do with my obsessive blogging about aged oolong in the last two years, but it seems as though there have been many more teas of this type available than even just a year or two ago. I’ve tried very few of these, and I only remember the Red Blossom aged baozhong relatively fondly. Recently I got a sample of Camellia Sinensis’ 1987 Hualien aged oolong from two different sources, so I figured I’d try it.

This is an odd tea, and I’ve had it twice now. The first time I tried it I felt it a little strange, and didn’t think it tasted like it aged much at all. I added more leaves today, and figured I’d try it again

What’s strange about this tea is that there is a very odd bitterness to it, especially right away, but it persists. There’s a slight sourness in the tea, which is fairly normal for an aged oolong, especially one that is of lower roast like this. Bitterness, however, is not usual, and certainly should not be expected in an oolong that is over 20 years old. While I wouldn’t say it’s a definite sign that bitterness must be gone, I’ve yet to try a good aged oolong that is as bitter as this.

That’s what prompted me to say that this is not really aged the first time, only roasted. Today, however, as I brewed it with more leaves, the colour of the tea approaches something more familiar

There’s that aged taste to it this time, in the back, while the bitter and sour mix still persists. In fact, the bitterness remained for quite a while, for ten or maybe more infusions. It’s an odd thing, because I couldn’t quite pinpoint where it was coming from. The bitterness did seem to fade though, and when I got to maybe the 20th infusion or so, it was mostly gone, while the sweetness that I am familiar with still remains. When my wife tried this tea, a good three or four hours after I first started (on and off) the tea is mostly just sweet.

I came up with a theory that seems to fit the facts — upon inspection of the spent leaves, there seems to be a combination of two kinds of teas or even more that were in this tea

Some of the leaves, the ones on the right, are full leaves, big, and easy to open. The rest, on the left, are much more mushy and not easy to unfold — they fall apart instead of being opened. Those seem to be more like an aged oolong, whereas the leaves on the right are not — rather, they are just like any random oolong you can find from Taiwan. This is some sort of a mixture. It could very well have happened by accident — lots of bags of oolong float around these farms or stores, and it was possible that they simply mixed it up.

It’s much harder to tell whether this is a mix or not from the dry leaves, but there’s definitely a bit of a mix of colours going on

Maybe I should try to pick out the weird looking leaves next time I try this, and see if I can get a purer taste.

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New acquisition

April 12, 2009 · 8 Comments

It smells like medicine right now — I wonder what the previous owner used it for — but I assume with enough airing and maybe some hot water (or perhaps alcohol?) it will clean up just fine…

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Knowledge is power

April 11, 2009 · Leave a Comment

I’m not sure why I haven’t done this until now… but I have a world class library at my fingertips and I don’t use it for a lot of tea related things, such as looking at Yixing books. There are some, such as the MAI foundation book, that are more commonly found, and there are others that are rarer or harder to get unless you’re in China. So, I checked out a few and intend to flip through them — all in the name of procrastinating on my real work.

So, for example, I re-read the little bit about particle size in Yixing pots over time — how modern day clay have much finer particles than earlier ones, and that firing temperature has also gone up, resulting in denser products that will have a higher pitched sound when knocked and also a finer surface. Comparartively, the earlier pots will be duller and sound more hollow. Seems to jive with what I have seen in person.

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The road warrior

April 9, 2009 · 5 Comments

Tea Nerd is having a nice little series on teaware combinations that are very useful for those who don’t really know what they want yet. For those of us who are experienced drinkers, I have one for you.

The Road Warrior

It’s quite simple. You need a water heating device, you need a pot, and you need a cup. A cup can be had anywhere. A pot is harder, although gaiwan may do (gaiwan’s disadvantage is that they tend to be easier to break than pots). Water heating device is really only feasible when you’re traveling by car, as I am right now. If you are flying, good luck.

The basic requirements is that the cup needs to be big enough to hold the tea from the pot so that it all pours out. More importantly, however, is that both the pot and the water heating device need to pour well — well enough so they don’t drip. If they drip, you’re in trouble, because you’ll get water everywhere and you will be very unhappy.

Also, the tea in question should be chosen carefully. I almost always bring aged oolong on the road. They are easy to brew, and hard to mess up. Longer brew times do not kill the tea. If you bring things like young puerh, green, or black on the road, I would suggest forgetting the whole pot/gaiwan thing, and just go with tea in a mug. It’s much easier to do and harder to mess up.

Although, really, I shouldn’t be spending time in a hotel room on a sunny afternoon here in coastal Maine. I should be going to look at the beautiful ocean instead. So maybe it’s not such a good idea at the end of the day to have tea around the room, but it really beats teabags.

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What is zhuni anyway? (5)

April 7, 2009 · Leave a Comment

So we started out with definition, went on to a little more about the historical sources, and then onto some more practical issues. None of these, however, really define what zhuni is. Let’s give that a try.

I think very strictly speaking, to those who believe in the orthodoxy, zhuni is only those clay that came from Zhaozhuang mountain in Yixing that can be classified as Shihuang clay. Everything else is, well, something else.

Walt raised a question in private with me though, and it’s a good one – what about clay that may be more or less the same as that particular kind of clay? And also, clay from that vein is not going to be the same throughout, and this does not even begin to account for the preparation that went into them, the processing, making, firing, etc. So, how do you know what is zhuni, and what is not? What if there is another place that produces clay that are pretty much the same thing?

I think the short answer is: I don’t know, and I honestly don’t think anybody else knows. With zhuni it is a little harder to define, but let’s say we’re trying to establish that a pot is made by Famous Potter X. Famous Potter X made lots of them. Famous Potter X has a distinctive style, and is recognizable to people in the know. One pot fits all the characteristics of Famous Potter X pot. However, Famous Potter X does not remember (or claims he does not remember) whether he made it or not. Is this pot made by Famous Potter X?

This is actually a real problem for people who collect these “famous potter” pots, made by modern masters who are often still alive. You go and ask them, and because they made these early on, or made them and didn’t like them, or whatever, they claim they didn’t make it. Everybody out there who’s seen hundreds of his pots can tell this is not a fake — based on things like craftsmanship, clay, etc. He might even admit on a “off-the-record” basis that he made it, but won’t issue a certificate for it. That’s no good for commercial purposes.

In the case of zhuni, I think it is more murky. First of all, how many people really know what it is? I’ve met maybe half a dozen people who can probably tell you right away if something is faked or not with reasonable accuracy, but I don’t think any single one of them will tell you they’ve never been fooled — in fact, all of them have, at one point or another. The forgers are quite skilled.

So, you have these people who do know, more or less, what zhuni is. They base it on the hundreds or thousands of pots they’ve seen in their lifetime, and have collected enough information to make an informed decision. I think this is not unlike somebody drinking an unmarked cake of puerh of unknown vintage and assessing its quality that way — you base it on what you know. It might not be accurate — lots of factors, mostly unknown, are involved, but you make the best judgment you can, and some people can make it better than others.

In many ways, that’s all we can really do. We can’t get magically transported back in time to see what happened, and written sources are quite rare. We could, of course, look at true antique pots, but many of them are of somewhat questionable provenance, and the ones that are almost guaranteed to be real are often in museums or collectors’ hands, out of reach for most of us.

In any event, the purpose of this series is just to explore one of the terms that often get bandied about on the internet, while I think very few actually are aware of all the complex background involved. Zhuni, in the strict sense of the word, is basically an extinct clay no longer being produced. Modern variants or new mixes claiming to be the same exist everywhere, but by and large, the ones I’ve seen do not impress me as being the same, based on texture, feel, and sometimes, taste. Then there are pots out there that have nothing to do with zhuni in any way, but the term is nevertheless used as a synonym for any sort of red clay. That, I think, is irresponsible, and misleads consumers and tea addicts out there without better sources of information. It certainly doesn’t help when the same claims come along with the story of how this clay is extinct, etc etc. If it sounds familiar, it’s because you’ve seen it before, and also because similar tactics are employed often in other realms, from puerh to lots of non-tea related things. Sales pitches are all the same. Sometimes it’s an honest mistake, sometimes it’s not.

As for us, well, tuition money is always in order. Yixing pots, unfortunately, is one of the more expensive hobbies for a tea addict. While they are not quite consumable as tea itself, they do carry a high price, and a high ratio of forgeries. I’ve heard so many stories of forgers in the 1980s in Taiwan making boatloads of fake pots, because there was a huge bubble that grew out of it that eventually popped. The bubble might have burst, but the pots remain. The only suggestion I can offer is stay smart, observe, and learn from the past.

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