A Tea Addict's Journal

Entries tagged as ‘aged puerh’

Traditional, not wet

January 25, 2011 · 29 Comments

In the puerh storage world there has been a fierce debate in the past decade or so between those who believe in “dry storage” and those who don’t.  Until the appearance of “dry stored” puerh, there has only been one way to handle this tea.  The vendor (and it’s always the vendor — individual consumers didn’t buy raw puerh cakes, period) would take in his big order (we’re talking hundreds of cakes or more).  Having evaluated the tea, which usually comes through a middleman who handles the actual transaction, he would decide what to do with it and how to handle it.  Then, the tea goes into the “ground storage” 地倉unit, which is usually some basement in a building on a hill or something similar, so that it’s quite damp and dark.  Usually, the storage unit already has lots of tea in there, aging, and the vendor would make room for the tea.

Now, this environment is usually high humidity and high heat — it gets hot in there for natural reasons (Hong Kong can get to 30C+ in the summer).  Now, the tea isn’t just stored in there forever, and isn’t just going to stay in there for the duration of its life until it’s sold.  The teas were put on little wooden platforms so they don’t touch the ground, and likewise they do not hug the walls — all to avoid excessive moisture accumulating.  Also, the teas would get “rotated” every few months, which is actually a fairly big operation.  What it does is to even out the aging process.  So, a jian of tea that was sitting in the darkest, wettest corner of the storage unit won’t stay there forever, but instead moved out to the front where it’s drier and airier.  The stuff that has been in the open before now gets the dark corner, etc.  The same is true for how high the tea is placed (stuff on top gets moved down, vice versa). It is, I think, important to emphasize that they want to avoid excessive moisture.

This storage process differs by the tea and the vendor, but generally speaking, from the different vendors I’ve talked to, a tea normally would not stay in a ground storage facility for more than two years.  Then the tea gets moved to a regular, dry storage facility, where the “removing the storage” 退倉 process begins.  This would take much longer — six, eight, ten years, or whatever the vendor deems sufficient.  It is only then when the tea is ready.

When I first started talking about wet storage on rec.food.drink.tea, I remember there were people who were quite skeptical of what good could possibly come of wet stored teas.  In their experience, wet stored stuff was bad — unmitigated disaster, basically.  Moldy, smelly, ruined, and dangerous — it was something to be avoided at all costs.  For those who’ve never seen this stuff before, it can indeed look pretty frightening, especially the stuff that has a lot of white frost on them, like this:

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It’s not that obvious here, but you can see white here and there on the leaves.  If you don’t know what you’re looking at, you can easily take this to be bad, spoiled tea, only fit for the garbage.  It looks bad, and it even looks bad when it’s in a cup — dark, almost pitch black sometimes, and generally looking somewhat murky, with that musty smell.  If the “removing the storage” part hasn’t really been completed, or done poorly, it can still smell strongly of the ground storage unit, which can sometimes be a bit offensive to the untrained palette.

However, I am pretty sure this stuff is safe.  After all, millions of people in Hong Kong drink this sort of thing every single day in restaurants everywhere.  If it’s dangerous, its dangers are not apparent.  Also, this method of storage means that each teahouse has its own flavour — after a while, if you keep going back to the same stores for different kinds of puerh, you’ll start to notice that each have their distinct “house” flavours, no doubt related to how they store and handle their teas.  In this way, buying a puerh is as much buying a product of the original producer, as you are buying a “finished” (as opposed to raw) product from the tea vendor.

Now, dry storage — this is a term that really started showing up in, I believe, the 90s, and took on a whole new life after 2000.  It is often attributed first to Vesper Chan of Best Tea House, although that distinction is questionable, but he’s probably the guy who’s the earliest and biggest beneficiary of this.  What dry storage proponents believe is that traditionally stored puerh has a crucial flaw — that the process of putting the tea in ground storage fundamentally alters the way the tea tastes and smells, and some would also claim that it weakens the tea’s qi, and all the other stuff.  On the other hand, something stored purely in a dry environment, meaning without ever going into that ground storage unit, would not have this problem.  It retains the strength and the aroma of the original tea better.  The downside is that it takes a lot longer to age.  The tea also keeps its astringency a lot longer, as well as the bitterness.

It is also important to keep in mind here that dry storage doesn’t mean bone dry, “store it in a desert” storage.  It means keeping it in an environment where there’s still a healthy amount of moisture (it’s Hong Kong, after all) and let it age naturally.  Also, dry storage proponents, the ones who practice it on a large scale anyway, don’t generally store their teas in open air places — they are still storage units that are mostly closed off, shut off from sunlight, and stored carefully.  Leaving it in a really airy corridor in the middle of an open air terrace in Arizona is not their idea of dry.

I think when it comes down to it, whether you like dry or traditional is really a matter of personal preference — there’s no easy answer to this.  Those who use the “health” argument against traditionally stored teas are, I think, wrong, and increasingly, my friends in Northern China who used to hate that stuff are coming around to it.  Dry stored teas have their place as well, I think, as it is really the theory that underpins home stored tea — before this, as I mentioned, nobody bought raw cakes.  When YP, a really knowledgeable tea friend in Hong Kong, went with her friends in search of green, raw cakes in the 90s, the vendors basically stared at them like they’re from Mars, asking “you want WHAT? Why would you ever want that stuff?”  It just wasn’t done until pretty recently.  The fact that we all have tongs of teas in our own houses now is because we think we can do it ourselves.

One problem with traditionally stored tea is that it is often confused by consumers with fake tea — those teas that have been sprayed with water and (as one report had it a few years ago) literally left in the pig sty to age, or stuff made with discarded tea leaves not fit for human consumption, but made to look old.  Traditionally stored puerh is most definitely not fake.  It may not be your cup of tea, but it is very, very real, and it has been around longer than dry stored teas.

With that in mind, I would like to propose a shift in nomenclature — the use of the term “traditional storage” to substitute for the term “wet storage”.  We can relegate “wet storage” back to where it used to be — where the fake teas belong.  Traditional storage, on the other hand, is a venerable method of preparing tea for consumption in a very specific and technically skilled method.  I think it deserves its place in the sun.

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Jiangcheng “1997” puerh

September 7, 2010 · Leave a Comment

I’ve been buying some random teas on Taobao, just to try them out, hopefully hitting a home run.  Sometimes, they’re base hits.  Other times, they’re strikeouts.  This one’s probably a bunt.

I haven’t been posting many pictures, because my schedule usually means I drink tea late in the afternoon.  Living in this part of the world, it means it’s already quite dark outside.  Coupled with an older house that has tiny windows facing anything but west (rather, the west is blocked by a mass of trees) my house is exceptionally dark.  Therefore, it’s been hard taking pictures, and what you see in pictures tend to be somewhat doctored.

This thing is really a bit of a gamble.  Will of teadrunk and I decided to buy one cake each and to test it out, since he’s tried a similar cake that turned out to be ok.  I’ve seen this one around enough times to want to give it a shot.  The cake itself, as you may be able to discern from the pictures, is wet stored, although not terribly so.  There’s that telltale smell, and the slight white frosting.  I don’t think it’s anywhere near the 1997 age claimed by the seller — 2003/4, maybe.

The tea, I think, is quite drinkable.  It has some off flavours, owing to its storage condition, but those get washed away in the first few infusions.  What you have left is a slightly wet stored, 7 years old puerh that is slightly acidic and has some bite.  What the problem is, and it is a problem, is that it is not supposed to be that way — it should be a decent, 13 years old tea, which it manifestly is not.  If I want something of this kind of age and taste, I have far better options, not least the male urine cake.  Why buy this, which is more expensive, when there are better teas?

So, thumbs down on the price/quality ratio.  Boo.

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~10 years old Dingxing puerh

May 24, 2010 · 16 Comments

I made an order recently through Taobao, and one of the cakes I got was this

A tea made by “Dingxing”, a long defunct tea maker from early this century.  Like many others at the time, some manufacturer saw it fit to use these old school names when making their own puerh.  There’s no clear vintage for this tea — I’m guessing around 10 years or thereabouts, plus or minus a few.  In some ways, that matters less than what it tastes like — as storage condition matter greatly, and as anyone can tell you, 10 years in Kunming is not the same as 10 years in Hong Kong.

You can see the paper is slightly worn and probably devoured by some bugs.  There are no obvious bugs in the cake, but there’s that smell of a wet storage room.  The cake itself isn’t really frosted

I didn’t use too much leaves.  The first two infusions there’s a distinct smell of wet storage, but in a slightly bad way.  The cake can use a little time to air out before another attempt.  The wet storage, however, goes away a bit, and what remains after the first few infusions is a nice, somewhat aged cup of tea.  It’s sweet, although some bitterness remain if you brew it longer.  Perfume smells.

And the wet leaves tell the rest of the story.

There are lots of duds on taobao, and I’ve bought a few.  This one is not too bad though.

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1998 CNNP “Green Wrapper” brick

May 16, 2010 · Leave a Comment

This is a long, long forgotten sample from YSLLC that I obtained at least a year ago, if not more.  It’s no longer available, as far as I can tell.  The thing is a brick, so the leaves are, predictably, chopped to high heavens.  The general rule of thumb, at least until the past few years, is that anything other than cakes and you’re going to get chopped up leaves.  In fact, you’d be better off with tuos than you are with bricks.  Bricks is usually a good guarantee for really, really broken stuff.

The tea is interesting — it is aged somewhat, but since it was probably stuck in Kunming, the aging is not very great.  The tea is sour, at least in the middle infusions.  Strength is low.  There wasn’t much to the tea and what it had, it delivered pretty quickly.  There’s a reason bricks are not a good investment and why my friends in Hong Kong avoid them.

It’s not horrid — if you can get past the sourness — but it’s not something you’d really rejoice in drinking either.  There are better teas out there that are younger but more rewarding.  This is not a good example of a 12 years old tea.

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The true taste of tea

November 27, 2009 · 4 Comments

My regular tea menu includes basically three kinds of teas these days.  Aged oolongs are the ones I drink the most often, followed by youngish puerh (youngish means nothing from the past two years, generally speaking).  Then I throw in some occasional aged puerh of one type or another.  I drink almost nothing else these days, despite having large amounts of yancha and some less aged oolong sitting around.  A friend recently asked to be served green tea, and I must say I don’t really have any fresh green tea to speak of at all, since I never finish them and it ends up being a waste of money.  I used to drink almost only green tea, but those were the days.

I can say though, that there is something universal about tea, no matter the type, that trascends the differing tastes that one gets from them.  I think it is quite a normal progression for many tea drinkers to first be attracted to the higher aromatics from a green or a light oolong tea, then getting more interested in teas that are of a deeper, darker nature.  Of course, that’s only speaking from the point of view of those who are interested in Chinese teas; black tea drinkers, for example, may have different experiences.  Nevertheless, I find that after all these years of drinking tea, that they all share a common “tea” taste.  Sometimes this “tea taste” is well hidden behind the aromatics, but always discernable.  I often find that the best way to taste them is when the tea gets cold, or at least cooled.  Then, drinking it in larger sips, you can taste that universal “tea” taste that you will find no matter what kind of tea it is, and no matter how old it is.  It has a distinctive feeling on the tongue, and a certain amount of aftertaste.  It tastes leafy, but not entirely so, and is not necessarily bitter or anything like that.  Very often, it is only apparent after a number of infusions — after all the easily soluable compounds are gone, I suppose.

I sometimes wonder if this is what separates good from bad tea, and that after long exposure to teas, we learn how to distinguish the good from the bad with these “deeper” taste.  After all, the fleeting, first-infusion tastes are easily discernable, but also very momentary.  On the other hand, some teas, generally the better ones, tend to go on, and on, and on, without giving up no matter how many infusions you put it through.  This applies to not only puerh, but also oolongs.  Greens are less tenacious, but it probably has as much to do with the fact that they are greener shoots than anything else.  Rare are the teas that are great that don’t last very long.

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First impressions are deceiving

March 25, 2009 · 4 Comments

I’ve said this before, but I’m reminded of this issue again today. I think one of the easy mistakes that newcomers to tea make is an over emphasis on the first few infusions. This is especially true of puerh, particularly the aged or wet stored type. I am reminded of that today as I drank some supposedly 30 years loose puerh from Hong Kong. It starts out a little bitter, wet stored, with a strong taste of some Vietnamese tea mixed in. After a while, however, it mellows out, turns sweeter, and gives a rounder body to the taste. Then, even later (we’re talking 10+ infusions) it turns very sweet, mellow, and still very fragrant, with an almost perfumy taste/smell.

It’s very clear that the best was at the end, not the beginning. My friend has told me how puerh drinking really only STARTS at the fifth infusion. Everything before can be discarded. This applies mostly to her stuff of 30 years old or so. While it’s certainly a waste to, say, dump five cups of Red Label down the drain, it is equally wasteful to stop too fast because of either a lack of immediate interest or a lack of stomach.

This is true also for the evaluation of newer teas. While it is not the sole criteria for determining the quality of a tea, how long it lasts and how fast it dies is an important indicator. I drank some younger puerh recently that will always yield an extra cup no matter how far I’ve gone, while some others completely give up after maybe 10 infusions and give you nothing but water. Longer lasting tea is always better than the ones that die. If it’s weak now, what does it have to give you after aging?

Which also brings into question the size of the vessel you use to make tea. If the pot you’re using is too big, for example, so that you can’t drink more than say 7 cups before feeling totally exhausted by the tea, then you should perhaps consider something smaller. This is a particularly acute problem in the non-Asian world, as the norm is to drink alone, not with company, making a long session of tea harder to achieve. If your pot is too big (say, 150ml) you might be drinking a litre or more of water and still be nowhere near the end of the tea if you’re on your own. It’s definitely something to consider.

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Poo poo platter

January 6, 2009 · 2 Comments

I went over to the Mandarin’s lair a few days ago to drink tea with him while I was spending some time in The City. It was a welcomed break from the stuff I was doing there. He’s got himself a nice tea room, with a lot of ware lying around. My tea room is decidedly more pedestrian and filled with all kinds of crap, which really should be cleaned out… but more on that later.

We started the session simply, with a Fengqing “high altitude” brick from the Best Tea House. The tea, from what I remembered when I tried it at the store, was strong, and this one, though mellowed a bit, still tastes of that strength. It’s probably going to be a pretty good tea given some years of aging, but right now is probably still too harsh for any sort of normal drinking, but of course, if you’re into that sort of thing, it’s a nice one.

We quickly moved on though, this time to a shuixian. As shuixians go, this one has a nice kick. We made it in a small “five shape” set pot which was perfectly sized for two person’s drinking. But that wasn’t the real highlight of the day either.

Having thus been prepared properly, we opened up the new bag of bug dropping tea that I bought in Hong Kong. This is the stuff that bugs leave behind when they are done eating the leaves of cakes, and the owner of the storage facility usually sweep these together when they open up the cakes (to break them into pieces for sale) and sell them separately. These are believed to have some medicinal value and aren’t all that cheap when considering the volume. They look more or less like sesame (Photos courtesy of Toki)

This is the way that I was taught to brew these things by the owner of the store — put them in a filter, add water, and drink. It’s quite simple. You can see the little pieces of bug droppings. Here’s a picture of the stuff, post water

And when they’re ready to drink

You can see it’s pitch black, but it’s clear (not cloudy). It’s also very thick — the consistency is almost syrupy, much thicker than normal tea. Actual consistency, of course, depends on how much you add…

The taste is actually quite fresh, in the sense that it doesn’t have a lot of random flavours. It has one clear, consistent taste of the storage that the store has — a “chen” taste, for lack of a better word. There’s a slight cooling sensation, and after a few cups, I was feeling pretty high.

These don’t last too long — four or five infusions and it’s rather spent. We then moved on to an aged cake that Toki owns, but which also has a bunch of bug dropping all over it — only this time it’s still on or around the cake/wrapper. We tried to collect some of them, and added a bit of leaves to it, and the taste is decidedly different — of course, having the leaves will change the way it tastes. Yum

Toki was still feeling pretty strong, and went on to drink most of a roasted oolong, chaozhou style. I had a little bit of it, but since I was feeling sick from the long plane ride, did not participate much. It’s obvious I’m losing my ability to absorb large amounts of tea….

Sorry for the long delays between posts these days, but I am hoping to start blogging a little more again in the coming weeks. Stay tuned.

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Border tea

July 15, 2008 · 5 Comments

Lew of the ever expanding Babelcarp kindly gave me this sample when I was in New York

The tea is from Taipei — a store that I actually visited once or twice, and then through a friend of his came into his possession. When I first saw it and smelled and looked, I told Lew that I think it’s a “border tea”, which generally means non-Yunnan tea made into some sort of puerh. On the back of the bag it says Yiwu Maocha, but every maocha out there is Yiwu….

The reason I said it’s border tea is because it smelled like it, and it also looked like it — long, wiry, thin stems with that twisted look. Yunnan tea generally looks a little fatter and shorter. I have a cake of this stuff, and also some various assortment of loose tea that are almost certainly border tea — most likely of Vietnamese origin. They also have this distinctive smell — it’s best described as somewhat spicy, and after trying a number of these things, quite common.

They also tend to brew dark

And they look dark when wet

The taste is usually of the same spicy note you’ll smell, and tend to be a little thin in terms of body. Mind you, they’re hardly bad — I’d drink this anytime. They’re just not Yunnan in origin, and is often passed off as higher grade stuff, which it decidedly isn’t. The most famous border tea that is easily obtainable is probably the 1980s or 1990s Hongtaichang, which you might see quite often. They have a squarish neifei with about four columns of words and usually no wrapper. I’ve seen them sold at various places, including M3T in Paris and shops in Taiwan, as genuine Yunnan puerh with the price to boot. If you find them in places that sell them for what they are, they are fairly cheap (under $50 a cake). For a 1980s or 1990s tea, it’s not bad…

Thank you, Lew, for the nice sample. I tend to like these mellow, easy to drink things. It’s less stressful to make than younger or harsher teas.

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Patience

July 3, 2008 · 5 Comments

I remember when I first bought this teapot, I was quite excited. It had a nice patina on it already, as it was used, and it was the perfect size for me. As you can see, I’m still using it for puerh, as I have since the day of the purchase. It’s been….. about two years since I got it. During this time, it went through some changes, and I remember, to my dismay, that the patina started peeling off a little. The original patina, it turns out, was somehow more like a little film of shine on top of the pot itself. When I rubbed the pot, it would rub off a little. Gradually, there was a little ring near the bottom of the pot as well as some lines forming underneath the spout. The patina was cracking, so to speak.

So I decided to rub off all of the patina, which I did.

That happened in Beijing. I remember I spent probably half an hour doing it, and when it was done, the pot became a lot duller. I wondered to myself if I did the right thing.

Now, after another year of use, the pot has gradually taken on a bit of a shine again, but the type of shine is different. It’s no longer the rather glossy shine that it used to have, but instead has a slightly dull surface, but you can sort of tell it is not quite “dull” when you look at the pot.

I don’t usually rub my pots when I use them, and don’t really do anything these days to actively try to season them. I just use them. Over time, I’ve discovered that that’s probably the best way to let them season — regular and repeated (and careful) use will, eventually, give the pots a nice sheen. It just takes time and patience.

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The (not so) bitter end

May 28, 2008 · 14 Comments

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.

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