Geoffrey Norman

There are certain words that will instantly trigger my interest. Five of them are “whiskey”, “barrel-aged”, and “Lapsang Souchong”. When combined…my head explodes. No, not literally, that’d be messy.

I had mused on what a whiskey’d Lapsang would taste like. There was no doubt that I’d enjoy it…but I didn’t know how much. It seemed perfect. Well, the first time I tried it, it almost was. Almost. Something was missing. Then I decided to steep the heck out of it for five minutes. Holy wow…flavor country dialed up to eleven.

Oddly enough, in and around the time I tried it the perfect way, I was gearing up to see The Great Gatsby. Naturally, I had to draw parallels between that flavorful experience and the movie I just watched because…well…science.

You can read that tangent here: http://steepstories.com/2013/05/16/carried-away-by-whiskey-tea/

Finally! Finally, finally, FINALLY!

I got to try this. And it was perfect. I have a fetish for Yunnan golds in general….but now I have one for this tea in specific. After nearly two years of people extolling its virtues, it finally made it into my cup. It was honey-ish, malty, floral, and teagasmic in all the right ways. Definitely worth the hype.

Even better was the conversation it invoked. You can find that here: http://steepstories.com/2013/05/09/golden-fleece-feast-fest-a-taste-of-eugene-and-tea-from-neighbors/

As if I hadn’t had enough caffeine today, I decided to rip into a bag I received from Rare Tea Cellar – an oak-aged Keemun. I’m a sucker for anything that says “cask-conditioned” or “oak-aged” in the title. Although, that usually applies to beer, not tea.

This is very much a Keemun through-and-though, only a lot bolder. Like Assam bold, only with a bit more seniority. It’s hard to pick up on what the oak barrel contributes, but it is easy to see that this has all the trappings of a semi-aged hong cha. The flavor has a sense of “experienced” to it. Funny thing, too, the wood-sweet aspects of the Keemun are there, but there’s a wildernessy presence as well – usually a trait found in Yunnan blacks.

All said, I’m sold on the oak-aging thing.

This little treasure was a surprise. Well, I knew I was going to like it since it had the word “Gold” in the title, and the fact that it had a lot of tippy leaves in the mix. Okay, sure, I’ve heard that such a presence doesn’t affect the taste any…but I like shiny things. So, shush.

This tasted like a cross between a tippy Dian Hong and a 2nd flush Darjeeling – Arya Ruby or Giddapahar clonal, to be precise. There were shades of malt, honey, cedar, peppers and grapes – all juggling at once. I’ve had a few Nepalese blacks in my time, but not one that actually tasted like something from China. I just dug the fact that it was so smooth and – for all intents and purposes – on the far side of unique.

(In case you haven’t guessed by now, “unique” is my thing.)

Wow, been awhile since I’ve been here. And – lo! – the site is working! Double-celebration!

This tea had three things going for it: One, it was from Nepal. Two, it was an oolong from Nepal. Three, it had the word yeti in it. The fact that it was going to taste good seemed to already be a given.

This is the first Himalayan oolong I’ve tried that actually mimicked the taste of an oolong for Taiwan or China. I like the muscatel kick of the region, but this offered something more traditional.

And, of course, in “traditional” fashion, I had to write more about it…and mythical creatures: http://steepstories.com/2013/04/16/wrestling-a-wild-yeti/

‘Bout damn time I got to this sample. It was my second day off, didn’t roust ’til the most excellent hour of NOON!

I thought to myself, Damn, I haven’t had an oolong in, like…forever.

So, I decided to rectify that with this. I didn’t have too high o’ hopes for it. The last Nilgiri oolong I tried…didn’t taste like an oolong. Like, at all.

This, however…

Tasted IDENTICAL to a Dan Cong – right down to the tart-sweet delivery. I was in flavor-FULL heaven. And if I displayed any more ALL CAPS-ness, I might come across as an eighth grader. Point being, holy balls this was good.

Okay, ’guess I am an eighth grader.

These days I’ve been in an “In Teamorium” phase. As in, finishing off the last of teas that have been on the shelf. Today, I finished the last of my Dan-Cha from Phoenix Teahouse. It was extra special because it was the first cup of tea I’d had in 26 hours.

Yeah, tragic.

I got two burly pots out of this sucker. I probably wasn’t as delicate with it as I should’ve been, but I thought I’d take it to its limit. It held up to the punishment I dished out with “x-treme” gusto. Even took on shades of malt as an act of sincerity.

Good show, Danny-boy. Er, girl. Whatever.

Prologue: It took me for bloody ever to update Steepster with his tea. Ten minutes! That’s ten minutes that could’ve been spent sipping tea. Grrrr….

Anyway…

I originally was saving this for a special occasion, or for when I accomplished something magnificent – like curing cancer of the butt or something. I figured, however, that surviving the work week was just like surviving butt cancer, so, I whipped it out on my day off.

I’ve only heard of (and had) two other teas that were cask-aged. Those were from Smith Tea. I was glad to see that others were taking up this trend. This autumn flush Nepalese was cask-aged in Cab-Franc and Merlo barrels for…I-dunno-how-long.

The result was a tea that smelled vaguely of wine, but mostly of Himalayan black, which was fine. On the taste, it was really hard to tell the difference between the natural muscatel notes of the leaves and the wine-scenting from the barrels. If I were a betting man, I would say they showed up in the aftertaste the most. More Cab-Franc than Merlot (thankfully).

If I were to impart a suggestion on further experiments, I would say to use a wetter barrel when beginning the casking process. Otherwise, this was awesomeness in my mornin’ cup.

Edit: Would you believe this tea was somewhat instrumental in saving my trip to World Tea Expo? Well, it was. http://steepstories.com/2013/02/11/high-fives-to-o5-and-a-world-tea-expo-update/

Backpedaling a bit

I actually had (and finished) this a few weeks back. The first time I had it, though, was in the summer. I even included it in a story I wrote. That good. Very up-to-par with the other Darjeelings of 2012.

Unlike the other Darj’s, though, it had a rather unique trait – putting up with a forever-steep of about ten minutes. Seriously, I brewed a pin of it, left to take a shower, then revisited it. The brew didn’t bitter at all; it merely strengthened. As for taste? It was a bolder profile than before, heavier on he muscatel with an added presence of smoke and malt.

It even inspired its own metaphor in a write up (here: http://steepstories.com/2013/01/31/lowbrow-low-expectations-and-lowland-darjeeling/).

Whoever said lowland Darjeelings aren’t as good as the higher-elevation ones didn’t know what they were talking about.

I forgot I even had this. And – lo and behold – I finished the whole thing in a two day’s stretch. The pots I brewed of it turned out perfect – smokey, sweet, and…nostalgic?

Hard to explain.

It was accompanied by several other “finali-teas”, which I had to expand upon here: http://steepstories.com/2013/01/29/a-week-of-lasts-finali-tea/

Point being, sometimes a perfect pot o’ tea is the perfect omen for a week of goods and bads.

It’s not really a secret that I love me some white teas. I’m especially prone to fits of glee over unique white teas not from China. For the better part of the Summer and Fall, I was on the hunt for a Taiwanese white. I knew they existed, but I didn’t know how difficult they were to find. Well, I finally found one…sourced by a Russian Orthodox monastery near Seattle, WA.

I know, right?!

This was a light-roast white that required a gongfu prep over a Western-style steep. The results were magic, smoky grapes and roasted nuts. Combining feminine delicacy with masculine posturing. SO glad to finally have it in my collection.

To read my story o’ discovery, go HERE: http://steepstories.com/2013/01/21/russian-orthodox-white-tea/

I was seriously fearful of this blend. Two words: Licorice root. I hate the stuff. Sickly-sweet is a flavor I need in my tea. Thankfully, enough of the citrus and spice did their darnedest to mask the damnedest of all roots.

One word of advice: Obey the two-minute steep time to the letter, though.

Boy, I’ve been really failing at that whole “consistency” thing this month. I have plenty of teas to go through, plenty of diversity in there. But with a 6AM wake-up time, the only thing my mind wants to veer toward is the Earl Grey and get on the road.

I guess that’s what days off are for.

I actually had time to tear open a sample of Mi Xian black – a Taiwanese “red” tea with an interesting twist. Like Gui Fei and Oriental Beauty, it uses leaves that have a special coating of…uh…stuff on them to prevent leafhopper (read: bug) attacks. With Gui Fei and Beauty, there is a noticeable flavor difference as a result. And you know what? The same can be said for Mi Xian. It’s like a Ruby 18 black crossed with Oriental Beauty with a dash of Dan Cong. The flavor is spry, tart, somewhat malty and creamy – all in contrast to its rather light liquor. That and it holds up to a neglected steep time.

I’ll probably do a more formal review on it soon, but this was my positive first impression.

Holy crikey,

It’s been two weeks since I’ve chimed in on here. Where have I been (er…besides watching copious amounts of Youtube, and saying “OWWWWwwww!” after work)? Okay, maybe that answers that question.

Got this in the mail as part of the Canton Tea Club. I’d had it before, but it I didn’t quite remember what “exactly” I thought of it. After four steeps so far, I now know that I “wuvved” it. It was toasty and tart like a good Dan Cong should be. Further cementing this as my favorite style of Chinese oolong.

It also helped to alleviate my general feeling of “blah” that’d been prevalent for the better part of a week.

For more info, go here: http://www.cantonteaco.com/blog/2012/12/canton-tea-club-week-10-mi-lan-dan-cong/

I thought I felt a cold coming on this morning. My natural instinct is to either hit the Greek Mountain or the white tea…hard. In this case, I still had plenty of Rwandan white and Kenyan white to work with. I couldn’t decide which to use. So, I went with both. A simple blend of 2 tsps. of each in a 32oz. teapot.

The results were rather surprising. The Kenyan white helped to mellow out the Rwandan some. I’ve found the latter was just shy of harsh sometimes – like Yue Guang Bai. This had a very mellow, grassy, and slightly floral lean. Overly pleasant.

Here’s hoping it helps combat the zombie plague.

This week’s Canton Tea Club offering had participants trying to decide a victor between Li Shan and Ali Shan oolongs. For an indecisive Libran like me, this was going to be difficult. Why? They look, smell, and (from what I recalled) tasted the same!

So, I subjected both to a Western-style pinting to determine a victor. Ali Shan won by a hair, thanks to appeasing my sweet-tooth. However, the best results came when I combined the two. I was downing the mixture by the pot as a wrote this: http://steepstories.com/2012/11/27/throwing-in-the-towel-after-a-tea-fight/

While listening to M.C. Hammer.

No, really.

A couple o’ weeks back, I found a canister that I usually kept Lapsang Souchong in. What I hadn’t realized was that there was also an opened bag of Risheehat Vintage Spring (2011 First Flush). At first, I lamented. I loved the Vintage Spring for its freshness, but now the bag smelled like smoke. Then I thought, “Eh, let’s brew it up.”

And I loved it.

I tried it again this morning, same result. Loved it. There was muscatel with a hint of smoke. I thought the accidental Lapsang scenting would supply more of a smoky palate, but it was understated – which I liked.

However, this prompted me to try a new approach. I took the Lapsang out of its bag, and put it in a do-it-yourself filter teabag. Then I put it in with the naked Darjeeling. They are both, now, occupying the same canister, and will for a couple of days or so. I’m trying a Jasmine green tea-ish approach to see if more smoke can affect the Darjeeling leaves.

Fingers crossed.

Canton Tea Club Week…oh, heck, I’ve lost track.

The full story on this stuff can be found here: http://www.cantonteaco.com/blog/2012/11/canton-tea-club-week-7-hawaii-forest-white/

Jane Pettigrew waxes all Voltaire-like over the stuff – far better than I ever could.

I did, however, do a write-up of last year’s batch, which can be found here: http://steepstories.com/2011/09/09/missing-the-forest-for-the-teas/

But enough linkies, my take.

I’ve had a s**t day. (See, nowhere near as poetic as Pettigrew.)

Between work and last-minute dashes to pick up a far-flung paycheck, and another dash to a far-flung bank – followed by grocery shopping – I was exhausted. Top that off, and I still had a NaNoWriMo project to contend with when I got home. Oh yeah, and a screamingly hungry cat.

When I saw this in the mail, my beaten brow beamed. Half-hour later, I brewed 8oz. of it up – boiled to perfection. It differed from last year – less butter, more grape, and all-around tropical. I also prefer it to last year’s crop, which was already near perfect in my eyes.

As I write this, I’m currently on steep…uh…three? Four is currently brewing. Just the fuel this writery-type needed.

Stacy over at Butiki Teas is on my mental wavelength.

She should probably have that checked.

Her flare for the unusual rivals even my own. And, boy, was this unusual. I mean that in all the best possible ways I can muster. While it technically shouldn’t be called a pu-erh in the traditional (read: Yunnan-produced) sense, it meets all the character criteria I care about. That being, it actually tastes good. Cocoa was at war with coffee, and chestnuts were the jury and arbiter…er…as far as flavor goes.

Whatever it’s called, I want more of it.

My full feature on it (and other tea/writing adventures) can be found here: http://steepstories.com/2012/11/12/writing-epiphanies-and-japanese-pu-erh/

It was The Jasmine Pearl’s eighth anniversary when I went to pick this up. When I first planned the outing with my brother, I didn’t know that. My only mission was to pick up some Earl Grey, which – even with all my teas – I had none of. EVERY one needs an Earl in their cupboard. (Unless you’re allergic to citrus.)

I’ve only ever encountered one or two near-perfect Earl Greys before. My criteria for perfection is: “The more bergamot, the better”. No, not those double-bergamot hackjobs. They’re too much of a good thing. What I mean is a bold citrusy presence without being too astringent. This met that requirement in spades. As I write this feverishly, I’m downing a pot of it. The Ceylon/Keemun base also shines through with floral aplomb.

My account of JP’s anniversary (and other announcements) can be found here: http://steepstories.com/2012/11/04/cheating-nanowrimo/

Here’s proof that I’m not a hoity-toity, oolong orthodoxical tea purist. I loved the smell of this stuff right on opening the bag. It smelled like Vanilla Coke. No joke. (Cheesy rhyme WIN!)

However, I could not – in good conscience – prepare it like a normal rooibos. No sir. I had to latte the s**t out of it. And it worked quite swimmingly that way. A great capper to a busy (and tea-filled) day.

Full review: Pending on www.teaviews.com

This JUST arrived today. I was greeted by the lovely Canton Tea Club package after returning home from my cousinly brainstorming session. When I read the box, my heart skipped a beat. This tea was A-Murr-ican!

I tore it open instantly. This wasn’t my first exposure to the Eva Lee/Chiu Leong/Tea Hawaii outfit. I had sampled everything from their black, their white, their other green and their oolong. This was a different green tea from the last one. The leaves were longer, wider, a different shade of green, and the smell was kelpy and tart. I assumed this was actually from leaves grown on their private estate, not one from a neighboring garden.

I brewed it up the first time like I would any green tea, and it came out much too light. On a second go-around, I opted for boiling water and a three-minute steep. The approach turned out a very citrusy brew with a slight grassy kick. It was light in a Long Jing sorta way, but with no vegetal profile to speak of.

I liked it quite a bit, and it served as the perfect fuel while writing a Halloween-related rant (here: http://www.lazyliteratus.com/1869).

At the time of this writing, the blog for this offering isn’t up yet, but I’ll update this note accordingly when it does.

Correction: I guess this IS their Ol’a green, only with a different rolling method. shrug

I found myself in a Starbucks for the early part of my day, helping my cousin brainstorm some future story ideas. I had a hand in a children’s book/app he’s developing. Also got a sneak peek of it’s near-completion; lookin’ pretty sexy…er…for a children’s book. (You can “like” it on FB, if you so choose: http://www.facebook.com/The.Riverbottom.Tales).

I was running on four hours of sleep and needed a “brewed” awakening of sorts. So, “Awake” it was. Not much special to say here. It’s black, it’s bitter, it’s the tea version of coffee. As far as English Breakfast variants go, it gets the job done. No more, no less.

I’ll be back a wee bit later for something more esoteric.

First off, I would like to give a hearty (and italicized ) “Thank YOU!” to LiberTeas for this sample. I’m always up for trying new whites, especially one with a name that looks dangerously close to “lotion”.

I was able to try this after a day of two failed interviews, a well-deserved nap, and a cat-puking wake-up alarm (no really). I am constantly impressed with the oddities that Verdant is dishing out, it tickles my geeky bone. As…wrong as that sounds.

This looked like a green tea on appearance, also smelled like one. It had the aroma of buttered veggies. When I brewed it, I accidentally went a little hot on the water. As a result, I decided to lower the brewing temperature by a minute or two – going with a minute-thirty.

The result was a pale yellow liquor that smelled like a green but tasted like a white. It reminded me of a cross between a Bai Mu Dan and a Mao Feng. Or some unholy hybrid of the two. Point is, I loved it. Mainly for the full-bodied aspect of it…but that might’ve just been my brewing. However, a good sign of a good tea is whether or not it can put up with my neglect. And this did. Good orphan.