A Tea Addict's Journal

Entries tagged as ‘Taiwan oolong’

Thinking about oolongs

February 16, 2011 · 2 Comments

Of all the families of teas out there, oolongs are probably by far the most versatile and varied in appearance, aroma, and taste.  Situated between green and black, oolongs, by definition, are semi-oxidized teas that can be almost as green as green teas (very light baozhongs come to mind) or very dark, almost black tea like (oriental beauty).  By virtue of the variations possible, oolongs are complex and interesting teas that often bear little resemblance to each other, but offer the drinkers a wide range of possibilities.  Making sense of all this can be difficult; I’m going to try to at least systematically lay out what these various issues are, and what I have learned so far.

There are I think three different factors that go into the growth of oolongs that we, as consumers, need to consider.  Those are, in no particular order, terroir, varietal, and season.  Then, in the processing from raw leaf to the finish product, there are additional variables that a tea farmer/maker can manipulate to change how the tea comes out, and those variables can include oxidation, rolling, roasting, and in some cases, aging.  I’m going to just try to talk about the first set of things and worry about the second set later.

When dealing with terroir, to borrow a wine term, we are really talking about the soil, climate, and other environmental factors that go into the growth of the tea, which in this case would also include altitude.  I think we can talk roughly about large geographic areas, but also small microclimates.  For example, teas from Taiwan tend to share a similar set of taste profiles, especially in the aftertaste of the tea.  They could be from different varietals, using different techniques, and grown in different areas of Taiwan, but many Taiwanese teas end up tasting similar in some fashion, and are often easily identifiable as Taiwanese.  Likewise, Wuyi yancha can (and to many, should) have a similar taste, especially that fabled yanyun, which roughly translates into “rock aftertaste”.  Even when Taiwanese tea farmers make teas using Wuyi varietal and methods, they can’t achieve the same results.  That’s terroir for you.

Location matters though, so whether or not the tea you’re having is from a hilly slope or flat ground, high up or down low, moist or dry, well lit or not, and shaded or otherwise all have to do with how the tea comes out in the end.  So while we can talk about large swathes of land when discussing tea, we can also talk about smaller areas.  Anxi tieguanyin costs more than teas from nearby counties, and not all Dongding teas are created equal, as anyone who’s tried a number of them can tell you.  Things like that are hard to control, and often for the end buyer, relatively meaningless, because we rarely know exactly which farm a particular tea came from.  When we can find out, however, it often tells you something about what you’re drinking, and accumulating experiences in telling apart various kinds of growing conditions is a true mark of a tea expert.

Varietals obviously also play a role here, and the most famous of these is perhaps tieguanyin and all its imitators.  A maoxie or huangjingui might look and taste somewhat like a tieguanyin, but it never is one, and those who drink a lot of tieguanyin can generally tell you right away if the stuff is real or not.  Likewise, we all know the story of the original dahongpao, and all the generations that the originals have spawned.  Varietal matters, and also changes the way the tea taste in a fundamental way.  Unlike terroir, for the consumer, varietal is difficult; it requires a great deal of experience to be able to tell apart different kinds of oolong trees and their leaves.  Whether that is a jinxuan or a siji or a ruanzi or a taicha #18, is not something that a tea novice can do easily.  If you don’t drink it often, chances are you are entirely at the mercy of the vendor, who is often at the mercy of the maker.  I think this is why finding reliable and trustworthy vendors is so important — not only that you can trust them to not lie to you, but you need to be able to rely on the vendors to do the due diligence and basically fact check the maker of the tea.  There are many out there who merely parrot the story told to them when they bought the tea — that’s sometimes a recipe for disaster.

The season in which the tea is picked is the final big variable for those of us trying to drink oolong.  A spring tea is inevitably different from a fall tea, and mostly on Taiwan, you often see a winter crop as well that is yet again different.  In my personal experience, spring teas tend to be floral while fall teas often have more body, and winter teas have a unique fragrance and sweetness that is quite distinctive.  You rarely see anyone advertising summer tea, and there’s a good reason for it — slower growing tea tend to be better tea, and summer is usually when the tree undergoes a growth spurt, leaving relatively thin and uninteresting leaves for you to consume.

Already, we’re dealing with a dizzying array of possibilities that can significantly impact the teas we drink.  Puerh-heads spend a lot of time worrying about these issues all the time — where the tea’s from, what season it’s picked in, etc, but oolong drinkers tend to obsess a little less about these.  I think a big reason for this is simple: the lack of clear and obvious ways to tell different sorts of teas apart, and the importance of post-processing that creates the final tea.  Those are serious mitigating factors to everything I’ve just talked about, and can change the tea in drastic ways.  Not having an easy way to tell apart different kinds of teas sold under different names is obviously a difficult issue as well.  Just witness the number of teas out there that are advertised as tieguanyin or dahongpao — surely, they can’t be making that much of these teas.  Something obviously has to give, which means that there is a fair amount of false advertising out there.  Since it is virtually impossible for the regular consumer to compare two of the same sorts of teas from two vendors easily, it is all the more important to at least educate ourselves with regards to what may be out there, and in doing so, become a more discerning drinker.

To be continued…

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Korean and New Zealand teas

August 14, 2010 · 5 Comments

I just went to the Hong Kong International Tea Fair yesterday.  It’s been a few years since I’ve been to a tea expo, and this one was a bit different from when I went to the one in Shanghai during the height of the puerh boom.  Partly perhaps also because it’s Hong Kong, the kind of tea merchants who were here were much more international, and also quite diverse in their offerings.  Most of the sellers were, of course, from China, but very often from provinces that are lesser known, such as Guizhou or Hunan.  The selection of green tea was very diverse, whereas the more popular things, such as various types of oolong from Fujian, were fewer.  As for puerh, there were a smattering of makers there from the big factories, such as Menghai or Haiwan, but even Xiaguan was not there.  There were some producers from Taiwan, India, Sri Lanka, and other places as well.

I think much of this was a product of the fact that many of the better known companies or types of tea simply don’t need the exposure at a tea fair, so they’re better off not coming and paying the expo fees instead of actually showing up.  For the lesser known, this is a great way to get some exposure that they otherwise won’t have.

I saw a few things that I know relatively little about.  The first is a company called Zealong, which makes oolong in New Zealand in the Taiwanese style.  The taste of the tea is very clean and crisp, and reminds me of decent Taiwanese high mountain oolong.  The company, according to their reps, was started by someone from Taiwan, and now has a few different teas.  It was interesting, although not terribly cheap.  I can imagine some place like New Zealand growing some interesting teas though.

I also met two Korean tea makers, and bought some of their products.  Korean tea tends to be green tea of various types, but one of them also made a white tea that had higher levels of oxidation, much akin to something like a baimudan with some age.  I bought some for personal consumption.  More on those later.

Another stop in Beijing before heading home on this trip.  Seeing some old tea friends from up north should be pretty interesting.  Stay tuned.

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Bad tea, good tea

June 21, 2009 · Leave a Comment

I just came back from a short trip to Salem, MA, where a good friend got married.  When you mention Salem, most people think witches, but in reality, witches was just a small part of the city, and the place’s claim to fame for much of its history was a center for the old China trade, where they imported porcelain of all types, and of course, tea.  Salem is now home to the Peabody Essex Museum, which houses many artifacts from this once thriving trade route (if you’re nearby, you should visit), and where the wedding took place.

So it is with a little irony that it was last night, in this town, that I had perhaps the worst tea I have ever encountered.  It’s in a bag form, of course

Sorry for the poor quality — taken with the phone.  When you’re at somebody’s wedding, you can’t really say “no, please just give me a pot of hot water, as I brought my own tea”.  You take what you’re given.  I needed something to wash down the rather decent but rich wedding cake, so, heck, I’ll survive a tea bag.

Or so I thought.

The “Orange Pekoe & Pekoe Cut Black Tea” produced a “tea” that was rather acidic, more lemon juice like than tea, and utterly devoid of real tea flavour.  Of course, it’s prepared by a coffee company — probably just a ploy to get people to stop drinking tea and instead, turn to the dark side of coffee.  It was a very nice wedding, and the food was excellent.  My wife said the coffee was all right as well.  If only caterers can do better tea — it really ought not to be so hard, even when you’re trying to feed 150 people.

At least I should be pleased that it is a “Natural source of Antioxidants”.  Now if only I drink this every day, I’ll live to a hundred years.

This morning we braved the horrific New England mid-June weather of rain and wind and went to downtown Salem to look at some things, hoping in vain that I might find some old China trade antique.  The weather, however, was not cooperative, and we gave up quite quickly.  This was not before we found a place called Jaho Coffee Roasters & Tea Merchants though.  There were only a few customers, as I think the weather has deterred all but the bravest to go anywhere, but you can tell this is a place serious about its coffee.  They also have a lot of tea canisters lined up along the wall, but as anybody who’s been to Teavana knows, that’s no guarantee of quality.

Turns out their tea selection, while certainly not like, say The Tea Gallery, was not terrible either.  I ordered an Ali Shan oolong while my wife went for the more exotic coffees they have.  I like to order oolongs at teashops I’ve never been to — it’s usually a pretty good indication of what their selection is like.  If the oolong is awful, the place can’t be that good.  If the oolong is decent, it’s probably all right.  If the oolong is great, well, it’s promising.  Everybody can do good black tea, and green tea is really too much of a hit or miss.  Oolong is dependable… and less likely to be toxic waste.

The Ali Shan is what I expected it to be, light to medium fired, sweet, no hint of grass, which is good.  The only problem I have is with the teaware

The same cup set as that other place I went to a few months ago.  I’m sorry, but this kind of cup, while convenient for drinks service, really isn’t so good for tea drinkers.  The problem is you simply cannot tell how well brewed your tea is, and there is absolutely no indication of the colour of the tea.  I find that to be a very disconcerting thing, drinking a tea when I have no idea what colour the liquor is.  One of the pleasures of tea is its varying colours, from a light shade of green when brewing a cup of longjing to a deep, dark cooked puerh, the range of the visual pleasure of seeing that colour is an experience in and of itself.  Using a black cup completely obscures that aspect of tea.  Why?

I suppose the tea timer I was given with the pot is a bit of a remedy, to try to tell the drinker how long he or she might want to steep the tea, but it’s still a poor substitute.  I don’t think a coffee drinker would want to drink out of a cup that gives no indication of the colour of the brew, so why would a place that seems very serious about their coffee do that to tea?

Other than that though, no real complaints.  My wife described the coffee there as mingblowingly good.  I have no clue about coffee, so I won’t try to pass judgment.  But I think if you’re in serious need of some tea when you’re in Salem, you can probably do a lot worse than going to Jaho.

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Adagio oolong #40

March 23, 2009 · Leave a Comment

Some of you may remember I bought my wedding favour from Adagio, which meant a lot of free credits for free tea, so I got a few things. Oolong 40 is one of them.

I find the naming scheme to be slightly annoying. Even though I understand that they have a music theme going on there, Oolong #40 really doesn’t tell me anything about the tea whatsoever. The product page says it’s “Formosa oolong”, which still doesn’t say much. Upon inspection, it’s some sort of Oriental Beauty type tea, highly oxidized stuff. I am personally not a huge fan of Oriental Beauty — I find them to be rather boring and expensive for what they are, but heck, this one’s free.

I’d normally brew such things in my black tea pot, since I consider them to be closer to black than a real oolong. I do have some fancy new teaware to use though

A nice gaiwan I got through Ebay, of all places, and which matches the cups I bought, also from Ebay, a while ago

The gaiwan is very wide, much wider than a normal one, and flat. If you have small hands it’s really not a very good one to use. These were made probably for sipping rather than brewing, as it comes with the base ring that works very well to hold it up. It’s not a saucer — there’s a hole in the center where the gaiwan itself sits. The shape of the lid makes it so that when you dip the lid into the gaiwan, it really pushes the leaves away. But anyway, enough about the wares.

The tea itself is pleasant enough, like any OB, with clean flavours and no astringency whatsoever, which to me is very important. It also isn’t bitter, which is good as well. Some throatiness, which in my experience is usually enhanced when I use my tetsubin to make water. I did use a healthy amount of leaves

All in all a pleasant enough tea even though it’s not something I would buy, but that’s probably my personal bias because OBs are really not my kind of thing. I’d take it if it’s free, but probably not if I have to pay for it.

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Some newish oolong

May 20, 2008 · 2 Comments

This is a tea I bought from the candy store but which I never drank… the first tea I got from them, actually. At that time, I was asking them for “aged oolong”, and got this. I figured it was not old enough — so asked for the other things, which, of course, led to a treasure trove…

This tea was well sealed, and I finally opened it today. When brewed….

Light in colour, smells young, but tastes a little older than very young. In fact, there’s that typical greennness in the taste/flavour — but you can tell it’s gone down from when it was first made. I am guessing this tea is maybe 3-5 years of age. Instead, the sweetness is more obvious than otherwise, and overbrewing does not produce the nasty, nasty grassy notes that you sometimes get with Taiwanese tea.

I wonder if this is a good candidate for personal storage — I have a feeling it could be, given the right conditions.

Yet, this tea is also more expensive than most of their older tea, which begs the question — why bother??

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I can’t drink gaoshan oolongs

May 12, 2008 · 2 Comments

One of the biggest changes in the 2+ years I’ve been blogging is that I no longer drink any Taiwanese gaoshan oolong.

Of course, with any statement like this, I am bound to break it — like today — but generally speaking, whereas I used to drink a fair amount of this stuff on a regular basis, I think today is the first time I actively made it myself since returning from Taiwan.

Mostly this can be chalked up to a phisiological change — I find myself much less able to handle this stuff than I used to. If it is dongding, with a suitable level of firing, I can still drink it, but if it’s say, Lishan oolong (which today’s tea is) then chances are I’ll feel pretty unwell afterwards. I either feel tired, or dizzy, or have a stomach ache… or all of the above. I was going through my tea stash today, and wanted to compare my tea with the two we had yesterday. Mine’s a little less harsh, but that could be because I didn’t stuff my pot, and it’s slightly higher roasted than the ones we had yesterday. Yet, after a few infusions, I could feel myself not really liking it, physically. The main attraction of gaoshan oolong, which is its aroma, is not something I find particularly alluring these days. Instead, I feel it’s mostly just something in the mouth that doesn’t last. If I want aroma, I can drink jasmine. If you want depth, qi, body, etc…. gaoshan oolong, in its easily obtainable form, usually doesn’t cut it. Not to mention that much of that stuff could be Vietnamese fakes.

Remind me not to drink these things again….

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Different aging for different oolongs

May 6, 2008 · 6 Comments

What I’m about to say I have no basis other than my own drinking experience — a mere conjecture, more than anything else.

I think Taiwanese oolong age faster than mainland ones.

To clarify, I should say that Taiwanese oolongs age more markedly than mainland ones.

What I mean is that I think there’s a larger discernable difference between an older and a younger Taiwanese oolong. The difference is not only more obvious, but more qualitative. Mainland oolongs, by comparison, age slower — they retain more of their original character despite long age. I have yet to taste an aged Taiwanese oolong that really remind me of their original taste, but with mainland oolongs (and here I mostly have tieguanyin in mind) I find that I can easily tell it was not only an original tieguanyin, but have some basic idea of how the tea was, back in the day.

I have a feeling this might have to do with processing. I currently have no idea if this is indeed true, or if it’s just my small sample size playing tricks on me. I also don’t know if it’s because of the type of tea that I have found so far leading me down this road, but things like storage condition and such have large parts to play in this process.

Anyway, food for thought. Meanwhile, I take one last sip from my aged tieguanyin (mainland) before I go to bed 🙂

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Wet stored tieguanyin

May 5, 2008 · Leave a Comment

This is a tea that I’ve talked about a few times before, a “wet stored” tieguanyin from my favourite candy store in Taipei. I believe it is around 25 years, from what I was told, but it’s hard to say for sure, for there’s no real proof of anything.

It is, I think, one of my better finds. I’ve sent a few samples to various people, with varying comments. The usual one, however, is that it tastes like aged puerh.

I don’t really know how the aged puerh taste got in there. I theorize it is the fact that the tea got slightly mouldy (you can smell it a little when it’s in its original big bag — a musty smell). The mould helped change the taste of the tea so that it has acquired a bit of that uerh taste.

It looks the part too, at least to the untrained eye.

Yet the tea is not puerh if you drink it carefully, because there are floral notes you’ll never find in a puerh. If puerh tastes earthy, this tea is more of a punchy floral note. It’s not fruity like the non-reroasted aged oolongs. They’re very different beasts.

The tea will last longer than you have the stomach for it. It might get boring in a way, but personally, I like teas that keep giving me many infusions of sweet water, hours after I first started. My requirements for a good tea isn’t very high.

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Organic Taiwanese oolong

April 16, 2008 · 1 Comment

Today I am drinking some unaged (unless you consider a few months “aged”) Taiwanese oolong, supposedly organic. This is a sample provided by some Taiwanese gentleman from whom I bought some stuff.

The tea itself looks pretty unremarkable. Tightly rolled Taiwanese stuff, smells and looks about right.

The taste is ….. hate to say, pretty generic Taiwanese gaoshan oolong like. I find that when young, they’re really not that remarkable, at least to me. I remember once upon a time, I used to love this stuff. I would drink it all the time…. in fact, for a while, that was pretty much the only thing I’d drink. Then, somehow, it fell out of favour, and hasn’t been back ever since. I’m not exactly sure why that is the case. Tastes obviously change, but it seems as though the switch from lighter to darker tea is quite common among those people I know.

Anyway…. digression aside, the tea itself…. is not bad, but nothing to write home about. It’s clean, but that’s about all I can say about it. I’m sure I’ll love it if it has 20 years on it, but alas, it does not.

I do wonder if it’s time I start storing my own oolong, but oolongs are a pain to store. I need a lot of tea caddies.

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Chinese vs Taiwan aged oolongs

April 11, 2008 · Leave a Comment

One of the things I’ve learned from my intensive drinking of aged oolongs is that the Taiwanese and mainland oolongs age differently.

Broadly speaking, mainland oolongs, which tend to be most likely tieguanyin, are going to be sweet, very sweet, when aged. They are not often necessarily very fragrant when aged. The fragrance is often subdued, coming in the form of an intense aftertaste rather than an up front kind of way. The aftertaste though, when the tea itself is good, can be very strong and very long lasting. This might partly be because tieguanyin from some years ago tend to be better than the ones we drink now…

Taiwanese oolongs, on the other hand, tend to have very strong up front fragrance. This is especially true for the stuff that haven’t been reroasted, which tend to be more fragrant than others. They don’t, however, have that deep aftertaste that tend to come with the mainland stuff. This is a common complaint from my friends in Hong Kong who like to drink oolongs — that Taiwanese teas are shallower, and mainland teas are deeper. It’s not that obvious these days, I think, because there has been a gradual convergence in style, I think. You can really tell, however, with the older stuff — they are very different beasts.

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