A Tea Addict's Journal

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Iwii sample 3

April 7, 2008 · 3 Comments

Samples continue

Sample 3, the bag says. One big chunk. Nothing too notable about the chunk. I threw it all in after breaking it up a little.

Brews darker than I expected. Then again, maybe the amount of tea (a lot) was a little much…

Tea is somewhat darkish tasting, bitter, but not too bad, a bit sweet, sort of nice. It’s pleasant enough, although, now that I think about it, given the massive amounts of leaves, it is probably slightly underwhelming.

But then again, it’s hard to say. I was told that this is actually the 2003 Henry HK “serious formula” cake. For $80 it’s a little steep, but then, it’s not that bad of a tea.

Sorry, the tasting notes must seem slim, but there isn’t a whole lot to say about this tea….. or, now that I think about it, many of these youngish puerhs. They all taste very roughly similar, especially to someone like me who doesn’t do a very good job of describing flavours (which, at any rate, are rather subjective and difficult to make much sense of).

So I will just let the pictures talk, although my hands are a little shaky these days it seems under poor lighting condition. I really ought to buy a tripod

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Tea Gallery 50s shuixian

April 5, 2008 · 1 Comment

Another sample from Northern California, this one is supposedly a 1950s shuixian from the Tea Gallery in NYC.

The dry leaves are quite broken and quite brittle, thin, light, almost paper thin. I think Toki remarked on this characteristic before. I’ve seen teas that are papery, although not quite this papery before.

The first two infusions were very dark, this is the third, and considerably lighter in colour. The taste? It is quite sweet, no bitterness, some spicy notes. I’d say it is in some ways a typical heavily roasted but properly aged oolong, in the sense that there’s no sourness and the right kind of sweetness — the kind that you only really get with time. There’s also no charcoal taste, which is nice. The tea has some longevity, although shuixians are typically not very long lasting, unfortunately, in the sense that it gave out faster than I had wished, but perhaps I am asking too much of the broken leaves (usually a result of re-roasting — every time you reroast some leaves get broken).

The tea is nice, although I do think that maybe there’s a time when aged oolongs should just be drunk, rather than left to further aging. I am guessing that after about 30 years or so the incremental change isn’t that much, and that the teas should be consumed in time. Then again, there are so many variables, such as storage conditions, reroastings, leaf condition, etc, that one cannot really generalize. Such is the mysteries of aged teas.

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Red Blossom aged baozhong

April 5, 2008 · 6 Comments

Among the many samples I received yesterday from Adrian is one that I’ve heard of, but never tired. It’s a baozhong from Red Blossom, and it’s supposedly never reroasted. Others have told me about this tea before, so today, I get to try it.

(Forgot to take pictures!)

The dry leaves exhibit the same characteristics of unreorasted aged oolongs that I come to expect — a touch of fruity sourness in the aroma and a sort of intense fragrance that you only really get with the aging. Ok, so far so good. I brewed it with my black pot, and the first cup was indeed very nice. It’s like my biyuzhu, or the competition tea, in that they are all teas that are probably not reroasted since production (or at most only very lightly reroasted). The taste profiles are very similar, and this is the kind of aged oolongs that I have come to like the most.

Unfortunately, this tea drops off a little faster than I would prefer. By the third or fourth cup it was starting to weaken obviously. Part of it might be that I didn’t use quite enough leaves, but I do think this is the baozhong talking – baozhongs being traditionally a little meeker than their gaoshan oolong counterpart. Another aged baozhong I have that’s probably around 15 years old does the same thing — it drops off quickly. It’s unfortunate, but there’s not much to be done there.

Still, this is a pretty nice tea and I think a fair introduction to what I like to call “dry stored” aged oolong. I think the problem with a lot of the stuff on offer through the internet is that they tend to be heavily reroasted and dubiously aged. That’s fine if the tea is truly good and the reroasting is done very well, but often I just find teas that are charcoal tasting without any obvious merit. This tea is different.

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Sample 1B

April 4, 2008 · 1 Comment

I just got another shipment of samples today, this time from Northern California, and I haven’t even gotten through the stuff that Iwii sent me yet… so back to those Iwii samples first to try to clear something out. This time, it’s sample 1b.

1b, I gathered, means that it’s probably the same thing as 1a, but from a different source, or in different storage conditions, or some such. I did not know what it was at the time. Pulling out the leaves though, I did notice that it was largely broken leaves, even though the pieces I got were big chunks

Broken leaves probably means a big factory recipe cake. It didn’t smell like much.

The tea, on the other hand, smells rather strongly of a youngish puerh. The colour, as you can see, is obviously changed. The taste of the tea is still quite strong, somewhat bitter, not too astringent, but has a bit of sweetness, especially in the later infusions. I think this is one of those teas that are better when weaker than stronger — early in the infusions they are a little rough, in the sense that the bitterness and the slightly unpleasant taste is a bit overpowering. Then it gets better, but it takes a while.

Then I asked Iwii what it is… and it turns out to be a big Zhong yellow label cake from 1998 (I think?). I believe this sample is from Hou De (correct me if I’m wrong, Iwii). Still too young to drink, I think. Not the most pleasant right now, but it will probably improve over time into something better. Give it another ten years?

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2006 Dahongpao

April 2, 2008 · 2 Comments

One of the best things to result from my reorganization of my tea closet is that, finally, I can actually find a tea I want to drink without having to rummage through piles of bags, mostly unmarked. I separated everything into different categories, and the categories all have their own shelf. Now when I want to drink something specific, such as the dahongpao I bought from very early on in 2006 during one of my earliest trips to Maliandao, I can actually find it.

If I remembered correctly, this tea is actually not cheap, although not too expensive either. The tea is, supposedly, used by one of the national banquet halls as a tea that they use to treat foreign dignitaries. My understanding is that the shop owner (who is also the person who owns the factory in Wuyishan) has some guanxi with somebody who is connected to the banquet hall, and got the tea in there. It’s a nice marketing tool though, and ensures higher prices.

Is the tea any good?

I remember when I first tried it, it was decent. The price wasn’t so high that it would deter me from buying any. I don’t, however, remember it to be spectacular. It was merely very solid, very representative of a dahongpao, and quite nice overall. When I brewed it today, I had very few expectations, since I haven’t really tried this tea since late 2006 (or, for that matter, haven’t had a Wuyi tea for at least a month). When I first sipped it, a rather pleasant rush of flavours flowed into my mouth, as if enveloping it entirely and then made its way down my throat. It is a nice surprise, since the tea seems much better than I remembered. Wuyi teas, or roasted teas in general, should be rested for at least a few months after roasting before you drink it. I seem to remember the roasting taste was much stronger when I bought this tea, but right now, I can’t taste any of it. Instead, it was a very pleasant “rock” aftertaste that lingers for a long time in the mouth, staying around and delivering that flavour and feeling that you look for in a good Wuyi tea. I think it is things like aftertaste that really help me determine whether or not a tea is superior or merely good, and this tea is, I think, superior.

As a side note, I just realized, looking at my album of tea pictures, that for the most part the stuff I’m drinking these days all look rather similar, especially in terms of liquor colour. I wonder if it’s sort of pointless to post such pictures anymore. Originally I had intended such things for record keeping purposes, but maybe it’s not even worth keeping such records.

Before I decide to ditch such things, however, I will continue with things like this

Which is not quite like the other stuff I’ve been drinking, since it is notably greener, I think, than my usual fare these days. Despite its colour, the taste is hardly green. I probably should’ve gotten a little more of it, but then, I already have too much if I am only going to drink it once every two years.

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Iwii Sample 2

April 2, 2008 · 4 Comments

I just got a big shipment of samples from Iwii yesterday, so it’s time again to do some sample cleaning.

I randomly picked out this, sample 2, to drink. Looks rather normal, smells slightly musty, and really nothing identifying about the tea when dry.

The liquor tells me it is a little aged, smells that way too, probably Taiwan stored, since it smells somewhat similar to the 2004 Gan’en Yiwu that I tried a few days ago. Oddly enough, it tastes sort of similar too. A bit mellow, but not too mellow, a bit sweet, but still retaining a bit of an edge…. Yiwu as well, perhaps? At the very least, it tastes like a softer tea that has been stored a few years in similar conditions. Not too bad, nothing too exciting either.

Turns out this is the 2000 (or is it 2001?) brick of Chen Guanghe Tang Yiwu. If I remember correctly, it is one of those things that sold out rather quickly. I don’t understand why there is sometimes a mad rush for teas that appear on some vendor’s website, while other items languish forever, looking for a buyer that never shows up. Other than perhaps the reputation of some of these people or brands, there is really nothing to go by when buying these cakes, for there isn’t even time for samples to arrive, I believe, before they are all gone. Why the rush? It’s not as if the teas will never show up again, or that they are the very last of a production. Good tea is everywhere; you just need to find them. Just because something isn’t “famous” doesn’t mean it’s not good, and also, just because something IS famous doesn’t necessarily mean it’s really good, or, in some cases, good enough to justify the price (88 Qing bing comes to mind). Besides, one can always try to find a friend or two in Taiwan or China to help locate such things, digital communications being what they are today.

Anyway, digression aside, I think this tea, for what it’s worth, is not too bad. Certainly better than some of the more recent stuff I’ve seen floating around. I don’t think Chen Guanghe Tang was producing stuff back then, so this was a cake that was made by another factory and re-labeled with his private mark. I do wonder if there’s any connection with the Gan’en factory, because the teas do taste quite similar.

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Teapot mysteries again

April 1, 2008 · 9 Comments

First of all, thanks for those comments, as I try to plug the holes in the article and make it a little better.

Here’s some more of that “is that really true?” business with teapots.

I remember one of the very first things I learned with pots is that they need to be well made. Ok, but what’s well made? Well, it means that they should

1) be well made
2) pour well
3) good to handle

Now, I don’t think anybody will have any sort of problem with any of these issues, and neither do I. However, I do have some issues with the way things have been portrayed or interpreted.

For example, I have been told before that to test whether or not whether a lid is well made, one puts water into the pot, put the lid on, and then pour water out. First of all, the stream of water should be smooth and doesn’t break for a long time. Second, when you put your finger on the air hole, the stream of water should stop completely — this is, supposedly, evidence of a well fitted lid and a well made pot. Good for purchase.

That’s the part that I’m questioning these days. My black pot, which makes good tea, leaks when you pour. It does not stop flowing when you put your finger on the air hole. In fact, it hardly slows when you do that. The lid is fitted, but not well fitted, obviously. The pouring is good, but not fantastic. But… it makes good tea.

Since when did it matter whether or not a pot stops pouring entirely when you push on the air hole? How does it affect tea making? In the days before machine made pots, could one truly expect such things from a teapot?

I’m not so sure. I don’t see how that has anything to do with the making of tea. That’s an action that nobody would ever perform when pouring tea out of a pot. Obviously, a lid that is so loose as to leak water profusely out of the lid is no good, but that’s an obvious case of poor make. A pot that doesn’t stop entirely when you plug the air hole, or a pot that has a stream that starts breaking earlier than others, is not a pot that will kill you.

The lid leaking a bit when you’re pouring is a bit of an annoyance, but it’s not a deal killer either, as long as you learn how to use a pot and control it properly. The only thing I can think of when that can be a problem is when you try to do it Chaozhou style, and the lid leaks tea everywhere. But that’s something that can be managed.

If anything, I think a well made pot needs to be made of 1) good clay, 2) good pour (including a fast pour…. not too slow, as some pots are prone to do) and 3) good handling. But ultimately… it needs to make good tea. A pot that doesn’t make good tea, in my opinion, is a useless pot. I don’t know how a tight fitted lid has anything to do with it.

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Water water everywhere

March 31, 2008 · 17 Comments

My friend from Beijing, L, recently took on a job to be an editor for a tea magazine that Zhongcha puts out, and he asked me to try to write a column for him. It’s going to be in English and Chinese (the column, not the rest of the magazine) and I thought I should give it a shot in English first before writing the Chinese equivalent. The below is my first attempt — please give any thoughts or comments you might have so that it may get a little better. Thanks 🙂

There are only two ingredients in a cup of tea – the leaves, and the water. The leaves we talk about very often. In fact, I would say the leaves are almost the only thing we tea lovers normally talk about. Water, however, is a much neglected subject, and for water, the preparation is usually the least discussed. Yet, over the years, I have found that the preparation of water and the water used for the tea is extremely important to a cup of tea. This is obvious among those of us who already drink tea often, but it is difficult to say something conclusive about water. While I certainly do not pretend to know anything more than my readers here, I do feel that it might be useful to engage in a discussion of the sort of variables involved in water that seem to affect the making of tea.

The first question about a type of water that we can easily know about is the source. Where is the water from? There are a number of old texts that deal with this question. Lu Yu from the Tang dynasty said that the best water is spring water, then river water, and the worst are well water. Other, later texts generally find that to be true, although there are smaller variations in their beliefs. I don’t think it is necessary to discuss which spring is the best, because that is partly subjective, and it is also rather difficult to pinpoint such things when most of these springs are not reachable by us. However, we do now have the ability to gather water from a source and ship it many, many miles away. So in some ways, we do have such access.

I think the primary differentiator between the different waters that we can usually access is the amount of minerals in each of them. Every water has a unique mineral profile, and in many cases, we can compare them easily as the bottlers who make the water provide these information to us. Without getting too technical into the chemistry, generally speaking I find the ppm of a water a reasonable indicator of what kind of tea it brews, but most of the time water contains mostly Calcium Carbonate (plus whatever other minerals there are). On the low end, I’ve seen water with as low as 10 ppm. This was, I believe, a water from a small island on the south side of Japan that supposedly had pristine conditions. On the hard side, you have famous waters like Evian, or even the new water from Tibet, that have hundreds of ppm of minerals in the water.

So what does it do for your tea when you brew teas with different hardness? I have done a test before using two different types of water and brewed them in an exact same way, using the same equipment. The tea used was a Yunnan black tea. This picture is the result

The water I used for the tea on the left is the new 5100 water from Tibet, with anywhere from 482 to 725ppm of dissolved solids in the water. On the right hand is the Nestle water from Shanghai, which I believe is a public source water that is treated. They don’t provide a specific amount of dissolved solids, but I believe it is quite low.

If you’re not convinced of the fact that this was a product of the water, and not of other variables, such as the amount of leaves used or the time the water spent in the tea, I brewed the next infusion by switching the waters around.

I think this shows that the effect of the color of the tea is mostly a product of the water difference, and not anything else.

The taste of the teas were also different with the two waters. The cup of tea made with 5100 is softer, rounder, fuller, with a heavier taste and seems to have some more depth. The tea made with the Nestle water, on the other hand, is a cleaner tasting cup, with higher notes and less of the body and depth. Yet one might say the tea taste crisper, and some may prefer this type of taste. I do, however, think that with more minerals there does seem to be an ability by the water to pull out more flavor from the tea.

When I was in Beijing for a year doing research, one of the things that always was a problem was the water used at the tea shops. Some shops use very good water that make the tea taste good, but some use very bad water that are basically filtered or even distilled water. That can make a tea taste very flat or boring sometimes, and so when I buy tea, I often will first buy a little bit to take home with me to first taste it at home, using water that I am familiar with, before I buy more. Unfortunately, for teas that seem bad at the shop, sometimes it is possible to miss a very good tea because the water they used was bad.

There was one instance when I remember such a thing happening, although in that case, it was a tea I brought to somebody’s shop, this time in Hong Kong. I had a tea with me, a Yiwu, that I thought was very good. I took it with me to the shop and we made it, and instead, the tea came out very flat. There was a very low level of aroma, and the body of the tea was also thin. It was not active in the mouth, and was barely showing any sign of strength. I was mystified, because the tea was certainly much better than what I was tasting in that cup.

Then I realized that they use a very advanced filter system for their water. The water filtration system is so good, in fact, that probably very little minerals were left in the water at all. If my theory that higher mineral content tend to “pull” more flavinoids out of the tea, then a very low content would mean a flavorless tea, which was true in this case. I walked outside to the closest convenience store, and bought myself a bottle of Volvic, a French mineral water. I took it back with me to the shop and we continued brewing this tea with the Volvic, and instantly, the taste improved dramatically. The tea now had a throatiness and a depth that was lacking before, and it tasted much more like the tea that I know. The shop girl, who is a good friend of mine, was surprised to find it so different.

What the above story illustrates is that water can sometimes be “too good”. Just because it is filtered for a million different things does not mean that it will make good tea. I believe that a good water requires a certain minimal level of minerals in it. There are some ways of fixing this problem. One is to use stones that can be placed in a kettle or a water container and which helps put some minerals back into the water. Another is to buy some mineral salts and add them to your water.

So what water is good with what tea? I can’t say for sure, for, again, it is a matter of taste, but I do feel that there are some general rules that might apply a little more universally. I think for teas that are delicate and light, which includes most green teas and white teas, as well as some lightly fermented oolongs, the water used should probably not be too heavy in mineral content. Using a crisp water would accentuate the freshness of the taste of the tea, and often will even make the tea feel cool to the mouth, which is sort of what you want anyway from a green. Using water that is too heavy for such a style would create a tea that seems unbalanced.

On the other hand, I think heavier teas, including blacks, darker oolongs, and puerh (and I put even young raw puerh in this category) water that has a bit more minerals in it would be beneficial.
In these cases, there is usually a depth of flavor and a complexity that is being sought after, as well as potentially a good solid body in the liquor itself, and even down to a deep, rich color for the eyes. Both of the teas that I tested for this purpose that I mentioned above benefitted from the heavier water.

The key here is that I believe there is no single water that works for all kinds of tea. Water that is good for green tea is probably not going to be good for black tea, and vice versa. Again, what “good” means really depends on the individual, and some people may just like the lightness that comes with a black tea brewed with a crisp water. But I think as a general rule of thumb, we need to adjust our water as we change the tea being made.

How to pick water that is available is obviously a matter of great concern. One is simply through trial and error. Try widely, and eventually you will find one that works for the tea in question. Everybody has their favourite teas, and in those cases, maybe a little more experimentation would be useful. Since each person’s favourite tea is probably also the one that he or she knows the best, it also makes experimentation more fruitful, as any change in taste due to the water tasting different would be more obvious.

More importantly though, I think tasting water on its own, without the tea, also helps develop a sensitivity in understanding the water’s characteristics. Whenever I am traveling I will always go to the local convenience store and buy bottled water that I have never tried before. Tasting them, sometimes side by side or one after another, can tell me a lot about the way different waters taste and the range of possibilities that exist. Doing a blind taste test at home, with maybe three, four, or five different kinds of water in identical glasses for taste, is also one good (and I should add, fun) way of getting a better sense of how different waters taste. When doing this, it might be useful to include the normal water that one uses for brewing tea, which in our case is most likely filtered tap water. Doing so will help locate exactly where on the spectrum the tap water is.

I have yet to do this yet, but I think at some point it might even be useful to try water cocktails – mixing different waters together to get something else out of them. I don’t know if it is something worth trying, but it’s definitely a thought. After all, teas are regularly mixed to maintain consistency from batch to batch. I don’t see why water can’t be mixed that way.

This is just the water itself. We haven’t even mentioned the preparation of water for brewing, but that is another topic entirely, and should probably be discussed on its own.

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Home stored tea

March 30, 2008 · 5 Comments

As I said yesterday, I was going to use the bigger tea caddy for a tieguanyin that I’ve been meaning to open for a while. Well, the day is today. This tea is something I bought maybe three or four years ago in Hong Kong. It’s been in its bag ever since I got it.

I bought it at the time having tried it at the store and knowing it was already aged for about 10 years. I checked again today, and the tea is actually 13 years old this year. The bag doesn’t look too good, although the leaves are still surprisingly intact.


(sorry, shaky hands today for some reason, maybe too excited)

The 150g bag of tea fit just right into the tea caddy with just a little room to spare. I then put it back in the box and left it. I don’t think I’ll want to drink this tea much — I’d rather let it age a little more. I do, however, intend on tasting it now that my ability to judge a tea has, I think, improved a little over the past three or four years.

This tea is not highly roasted. In fact, I’d say that when it was young, it was probably quite lightly roasted. The leaves are still green, even when dry (the lighting was a bit funny today too). When tasted, it yields a very orthodox tieguanyin flavour, with a strong yinyun (tieguanyin aftertaste, basically) and a very strong qi. I don’t think I’ve had tea with this strong a qi for a while, but it was a pleasant qi, not something that is particularly overpowering or uncomfortable. Rather, it was the sort that kept you buzzing a little, with a definite sensation of energy moving around your body that leaves you sweating a bit. If anybody ever asks me what a tea with qi feels like, I might just have to pull this one out.

The tea is definitely still youngish, but shows signs of aging in that there’s a hint of fruitiness showing through that is different from the floral fragrance of a young tieguanyin. Bitterness has also receeded, but it’s still there. I don’t think the tea is quite ready to drink yet, in the sense that it is a bit neither here nor there. If it were reroasted over time, it would taste older, but I think it would have also lost some of that power. It does taste a bit similar to the tea that Toki sent me, at least in its very core. That makes sense, because both these teas are tieguanyin, although their level of roast make them very different on the surface. The aftertaste, however, are quite similar, which I find to be a fairly remarkable thing.

The spent leaves are thick and solid, yet soft. I think I now have at least a little idea of how to properly identify a good tieguanyin, versus stuff that are mixed with all sorts of lower grade teas.

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Tea caddies

March 29, 2008 · 7 Comments

I’ve gotten interested (yes yes, among many other things) recently in tea caddies. Storing tea is pretty simple, of course. You just need a can that isn’t leaky, is preferably opaque so that light doesn’t penetrate, doesn’t give your tea a nasty smell, and maybe is cheap to boot. Beauty, however, has a price. Being somewhat dissatisfied with using cheap plastic Carrefour containers that sort of give off a plastic smell, and tired of paying $7 for a stainless steel can that is practical and air tight, but is rather ugly, I decided maybe there’s a better way to store tea, especially things like aged oolongs that need the sun and air protection, but which I hope to treasure (and avoid plastic smells of all kinds. So recently I’ve started paying that price.

I’m still in an exploratory stage right now with tea caddies, and am trying to figure them out as I go along. These are all made of pewter of one sort or another, and are of various ages. The oldest is probably the one in the middle, which is certifiably old (around 100 years). The newest, no doubt, is the one hiding in the back, second from the left. That one is in a style that is easy to find from places like Royal Selangor, which will at least set you back a Ben Franklin, or if you want a cheaper variety, China.

One of the issues with these things, especially the older ones, is that they sometimes have stuff either growing in them, or at least smell like they have stuff growing in them. I have yet to figure out how to clean them properly (anybody who’s skilled in dealing with old pewter ware, speak up now please!). The one on the far right has whitish powder on the inside. The second to the right has some green stuff and smells like old socks. I’ve put some of my cheap Benshan in it in the hopes that it will suck out some of the nasty smell. Failing that, I might use some of my old sencha to get the job done.

The cleanest one is actually the one on the far left, which I have to say is the best score I ever got through any auction site anywhere. You can hardly buy a new pewter tea caddy that is mediocre in looks and quality for $50. When it is an older piece, made of fine pewter, I probably have to pay triple that price, at least, to get something like this. Somehow I got lucky. I have a bag of tieguanyin that I’ve been carrying around for years, waiting to open it for a drink. I think I will do that soon and stick the rest of it in this caddy. It will probably just fit.

Unfortunately, pewter tea caddies is probably not the most practical in terms of tea storage on a large scale. It’s very heavy, and since it’s soft, over time you’re bound to get a few dents in the caddy. In addition to the cost of the caddy itself, the shipping also costs a fortune, as they are extremely heavy (the silvery one, for example is 650g, not counting the box and all). Still, there’s something to be said about owning a few pieces of fine teaware, and I like the idea of having some of my best teas sitting in nice looking jars… if only I can clean them properly.

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