changeangeling

Lubitsch and Guangdong Feng Huang Dan Cong Wudong Song Zhong: a mouthful one is not likely to forget!
I sip this rapturous oolong while watching pre-code Ernst Lubitsch musicals. The flavors in the cup seem to flirt, wink, intermingle like the characters on the screen. Innuendos of passion beneath a flowery dress. Always hinting at something all-together naughty and wild. But, ah, here is the mouthfeel, honeyed as if sung by Maurice Chevalier himself. With eyebrow raised. Irrepressible sweetness, notes of Turkish Delight, fresh apricot, tiger lilies, dancing girls, glitz, and clever wit.

My tarot studies this week have brought me into the time and season of XIII, The Nameless Arcanum (that some call “death.”) Which is “returning.” And so, I return to the things of my true soul which call me home, while the rest is left to turn over, let go into the soft earth in my unconscious. Fittingly, I now return to sing tea praises here with my fellow teathren, and fittingly, I have recently let go of a 2 year relationship, which almost exactly accounts for the period of my absence!
What better tea to celebrate this turning cycle than the little red packet of Mystery Qi Hong type brought back from Yunnan by Payton and Ben, of Chaxi collective (http://chaxicollective.tumblr.com/)

So: The tea is nameless. The arcanum is nameless. To imbibe this great mystery is to abide in the perfect rest of not-knowing, or rather, knowing but not saying so. Flavor: vastly dark and rich, yet vivacious, hinting at new growth, a subtle playful budding forth.
Here’s to the depths that bring us back to the comfort of our teacups, those safely shallow (yet potently profound) scrying mirrors of our hearts.

Whilst in my week-long maelstrom of creative endeavering (and procrastinating), I put a whole saucepan of water on the stove and left it to simmer with these sweet stems. I added a dollop of Wild Branch Botanicals’ Chaga in Maple Syrup, so healing and energizing that it feels like a big hug from a beautiful old tree, and tastes like hugs too! The combination sweetened my temper, turned the storm into a free dance of raindrops. Yes for comfort teas. And it’s macrobiotic, too.

On my Oregon adventure, I shared this tea as a special delicacy with my wonderful hosts and friends.
The emerald, graceful, silky infusions were like little keys, sip by sip turning the lock of the heart chakra open into acceptance of bliss. We smiled into our cups, and I felt the moss of the redwoods touch my lips…rain for days, spotted owls, elk antlers…
Deeply gentle, like the gestures of a fawn, but with the fortitude of the wild black bear.
Infusions after the first take only seconds: a breath of water, an exhale of flavor.
And the flavor will take you on your own journey into the soft green rain falling now within you.

Well, I HAVE to be partial to the Forest Dragon…it’s my baby (my invention!), and has served as a particularly popular summer specialty at Dobra. Born only a few years ago on a torpid July day…this vegan blend of matcha, rice milk and magic (the ingredients are a secret!) make a lovely hot-weather friend…I happen to have a nice jar of dragon juice (a variation made with coconut milk and maple syrup) right in front of me….and with the fan on it almost seems like I’m in a mossy pine-laden glen touched by zephyrs and conversing with sage beasts…

Forest Dragons are complex drinks to make during a rush! Thank god(ess) for ice, shakers, and co-workers!

(see note on Bai Hao…darn alternative spellings, these are the same tea and I’m not steepstersavvy enough to combine these descriptions!)

As with Bai Hao and Chi-Tsu Bing Cha, this tea is characterized by a sweet, tannic and woody base with walnut-shell notes in aroma and flavor. Darjeeling is certainly the most tannic tea of this trio and a tea I often enjoy with coconut milk…without feeling guilty about it. It’s a classic—the basic Darjeeling, like say, the basic pair of blue jeans. They’re not bell-bottomed, scratched-up, flared-out, torn-down, or designer jeans, they’re just your basic pair of jeans you would wear to the park. It’s a lovely, standard tea…the quintessential flowery headnote with it’s broader declamation of “paradigm tea flavor.” This tea is an Aries tea. It comes into the world and says, “I am tea!” And for the Western tradition, it pretty much is.

Pai Hao, Bai Hao, “Oriental Beauty,” “White Hair”…So when Payton and I did a comparison of this tea with Darjeeling Himalaya and Chi-tsu Bing Cha (see other notes!), we recognized a core note of woodiness which we later modified to “walnut shell.”
Bai Hao deviates from this center in that it breathes an earthier, saltier flavor…which I have always considered the perfect likeness to a pile of crisp autumn leaves fermenting and baking in the orange October sun. Now that I have been eating seaweed granola for several months, I also detect an unmistakable flavor of seaweed in Bai Hao’s cup. Dulse, to be exact. Payton commented on a burnt sugar flavor, and now I’m thinking of (vegan) pumpkin pie along with that pile of leaves…I always crave this tea when the season shifts over to the vermilion days of fall.
HOWEVER…{I humbly implore the Vermont sun}…that won’t be for a while yet, right?
I’m liking summer. Thanks.

I know I said I was going to write about Bai Hao and Darjeeling, but I’ve got to slip this one in there just for kicks…
This was a piece of Da Hong Pao brick that James brought back from China. I had been holding on to it (as I do with all my aged oolongs), hoarding it for a special occasion…Then I got over it and decided that the tea itself WAS the special occasion…

Nicotine. Dry sandy soil. Bitter, with only a suggestion of roundness. Both aroma and taste reminded me so strongly of tobacco—not smoked, but the dry leaves…although one could say there’s a hint of ash thrown in there. Feels earthy in quality and not so much head-y as heart-y…although I felt it in my 3rd chakra, too! An ancient hearth, charred bits of old sacred manuscripts…the royal secret safe.

Been a long time, and although I have not shared the news, tea has never—for more than one day—relinquished its quotidian regime over my life!
The sips go by and they are each so sweet and fleeting—tasted and drained the cup—inspiration in the new bud—this year’s winning cultivar—teas from Myanmar, Laos, and Thailand—teas from China and beautiful stories—and at times going back again for Reiki-infused Tie Guan Yin…

Last week, we did a taste comparison of this tea along with Bai Hao (from Dobra), and Darjeeling Himalaya (from Dobra). My fellow devotea and I remarked that the central note in all three of these teas is that of a tannic woodiness. I presented the teas in a blind taste test, he was quite surprised to discover that each tea was a totally different type. They had identical colored infusions upon the second infusion…it was spooky.
More on Bai Hao and Darjeeling Himalaya to come, but Chi-Tsu Bing Cha was the one that stumped everyone at the tearoom. They all thought it was Darjeeling! In truth, I had made that discovery of their similarities only the day before and had been ruminating on this synchronicity with great wonder. The tannic, sweet and slightly floral waters taste like fresh and sunkissed hay, wheat in the wind, and golden needled woods nearby…
A warm tea, golden and light, with incredible similarities to the autumnal taste of Bai Hao and the dry, bold taste of Darjeeling.

Kukicha will always have a special place in my heart…like a long-ago lover whom one remembers in moments of sweetness. And the taste, just as sweet.
The crisp stems stand for that special connecting place between root and leaf—they are the bright conduits between soil and sun, kundalini coils by which energy may spiral back and forth between realms. Drinking this tea, I always get a little crazy with light.
The first tea reading I had, I chose kukicha…
The reader told me that stems indicate men, admirers, or lovers…which was absolutely hilarious because there were ONLY stems, no leaves!!! At least, as I was blushing, I must have made a nice rosy contrast to the shiny chartreuse green of the liqueur!

I can’t think of anything else in the world that shares its sumptuous hue…except perhaps the vitrinous waters of a brook lined with bright Zisha clay, the vermillion colors slowly swirling over the vibrant roots of river reeds…
Always changing…no brew has been the same. Watching the honeyed coils of buds melt open in the cup, one witnesses the miracle of late winter’s opening unto spring. The taste bespeaks of the manes of wild horses, dark dens made of willow, and all those grateful moments when one welcomes and greets the warming…
A tea of thanks. I brewed this tea for my mother and I as we celebrated her birthday today.

I’ve become quite a fan of brewing the finer black teas of China with zhongs and not filters. In such a small vessel, the leaves seem to fill the entire space with their burgeoning flavors, and more infusions can be gained with a quicker and more surprising succession of brews.
Late afternoon awakener, for the days when one wishes to linger in sleep. Notes of bittersweet cacao paired with the deep satin texture of this tea makes any gray day luxurious. I read somewhere that Qi Men means “Great Gate,” the energy of opening.
A Ganesha tea, obstructions and limits clear away under its influence.
3 min, if using a teapot, or by intuition via zhong ;-)

Astringent, but polite…the leaves dance vertically in the cup, whirling rods of “yellow” energy. A tribute to the inner emporer, feeds the inner majesty…

“inherited” these jasmine pearls when I moved out of my old apartment in November. I have no clue where they come from. I originally thought they might be the pearls we were selling at Dobra (from Tao of Tea), but these pearls are not as delicious as the Tao of Tea ones, so they can’t be!!!
Still, as the first tea of the day, accompanying my english muffin with homemade guava-prickly pear jelly, these precious pearls are a refreshing and romantic pick-me-up. A tea that coaxes the senses to wake and engage with the world. People poo-poo jasmine too much. But a classic is a classic for a reason.

teagasm! (ok, I’m terribly partial to aged oolongs, but still…)
An ancient oak door opening onto a scene from a childhood dream, a secret garden overgrown with memory and bittersweet vines, the words of the elders making poetry in this malty cup.
Delectably rich, with notes of walnut, mahogany, winter squash, and caramel, but not as pungent as the Ali Shan 1991. A tea to surrender to. Must be prepared in zhong or gong fu to really appreciate.

Tastes like fresh rain dripping from spring blooms…I oversteeped the third infusion and it was still preciously sweet. Creamy but not thick. A darling tea!