the_skua

Opening the pouch and selecting five grams, a gentle sandalwood and citrus stem aroma rise. The first scent off the rinsed leaf is briny, green, and pushes towards delicate paler fruits: plum, apricot, pear, and pineapple. The first two steeps are rather light, but by the third, the excellent quality of this tea has revealed itself, mouthfeel. A silky, glossy, smooth coating texture runs over the tongue, holds in the back of the mouth, and then swells and steams a while longer. A slight ethereal hint of spearmint or wintergreen alights on the roof of the mouth. Lacking that raucous, dry parching sensation that both the Bu Lang and the You Le had, I revel in the delightful heaviness of this tea.

The flavors are solid and delightful in fresh, ripe, light fruit, but for me, this tea takes it home with a thick, coating, almost syrupy rich soup. The texture shows itself as a warm pleasing, gentle, and calm grip of theanine settles over me. I could linger on this sensation, the delicate flavor and the rich texture of this tea until all time has been lost.

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Giving little dry leaf aroma, this tea unfurls slowly and begins in an incredibly mild manner. I stuck with a safe five grams, but again found myself wondering if I should crank up the leaf volume for what proved to be a very subtle tea. By the fifth or sixth steeps, when this tea finally began to push out its full essence, what came through was heavy on the bean-based oligosaccharides, fresh wood chips (think balsam, birch, and hemlock), and high floral herbs a la lavender-scented cotton, laundry detergent, and foxglove. All very enjoyable, but reserved and distant. An underlying strong wet moss and earthen floor pushed up from beneath.

Most notable for me in both this tea and the Bu Lang was the intense parching nature of the finish. That cottony, dry wood, sand, and hot moisture-less air experience has been a new kind of exit in puerh for me. It’s not the most pleasant, as it rasps at the throat and leaves me thirsty, not quenched. In a way, it also lets the classically enjoyable lingering and swelling finish evaporate more quickly.

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This tea is just downright perplexing to me. I’m having trouble gathering my thoughts about it. The dry leaf, rinse, and first steep aromas are all quiet, sullen, and distant, pushing through a hint of spice, mushroom, and moss. Flavor? Flavor? I’m looking for it. I’m searching.

In the next gaiwan over, I’ve got the session of Wu Liang from yesterday. I give it a brief reinvigorating rinse to bring it back up to temperature and then pull off a minute-long 12th steep. I felt embarrassed for the Bu Lang cake when I put my nose to the cup of Wu Liang and then loudly slurped a big sip; it was still loaded with flavor, texture, bitterness and aroma.

Moving back to the tea at hand, crickets are chirping. As it opens, it releases a distinct and surprising, wet, moldy basement on me. Aside from some slight date sugar and mulling spice character, I have little positive to say about this tea. It ends parching in an odd cottony sensation. This tea gave me a weird, bad headache.

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Easily the most outstanding character of this particular cake is the dry leaf and cupped aroma. It has a strong red currant and fresh cherry tomato scent. Incredibly “red” and vegetable-like. Not in a starchy way, but somewhere between green plant stems and fruit. Much as many garden-fresh tomatoes would smell like if heated just slightly. In the flavor, this translates to a lightly sweet herbal and delicate floral character, with marked pungency. Perhaps the Lan Xiang (orchid aroma) the producers are referring to?

From the forward flavor notes on, this tea is a little flatter. There is detectable astringency towards the finish, but it’s missing a certain bitterness balance and lingering swell. Longer steeps develop a curt, punchy upfront bitterness that’s somewhat unpleasant. Considering this sample employed fantastically large leaves, I may begin to sense that teas with mostly large leaves are able to put off fantastic aromas and front flavors, but lack a certain roundedness in the finish. This tea has endurance for its youth however, as it crosses the ten steep mark without much noticeable loss in depth.

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Have had a session of this going off and on as I work today, as it was one of my “spare sample” teas that was easy to get brewing, gave me a great life, and delivers long set of flavorful steeps. Wet cotton, fresh bread, green maple stems, and candied apricot. As one of the older samples in my stash, I also enjoy the time-softened edge this tea gives off.

Smeared all over the outside of this cake are long, graceful, slender, twisted curls of the tea tree, each anointed with a beautiful haze of fine white fuzz. The rinse breathes an intense, browned-caramel toffee sensation from the leaves; surprising, but enjoyable. The first steeps are nothing but pure butter, with all that delectable light, fruity Yiwu essence coming in a silky, smooth vehicle. The soup a bright, even yellow, the tea hardly oxidizes as it sits in the cup.

As amazing the leaves, the aroma, and the flavor, oh, to live for that finish, that aftertaste, that graceful departure from the tongue. Cooling and minty above, lingering, herbal and dry below. Rounded, complex, soft, elegant, tight and easily remembered. Using only a scant five grams of large unbroken leaves in a 120 mL gaiwan, the overall bitterness is much reduced, but still pleasingly balanced. This kind of bingcha is exactly why I drink puerh.

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A solid black tea, the dry leaves have a bit of musky Yunnan funk to them that doesn’t carry through to the flavor. First two steeps are brisk, floral, and light on the malt characters. A bit of biscuit and some conifer. I really like the nice small, even buds used in this tea, I think they lend it an extra sweetness. Enjoyable, but not dazzling.

Used 2.5 grams in my ~100mL gaiwan with boiling water at 2m,4m,6m,10m. This tea opens with awesome aroma, texture, and flavor complexity. Big malt and biscuit nose, nice tight pine and light smoke flavors, and a silky, tongue-coating texture. Refined, complex and enjoyable from front to back. Also, this tea is a real trooper, giving me four reasonable steeps!

Batch 903. This tea confounds me. It must be intended for aging, except that I know there are a few crazy folk who do enjoy it young and bristly. I’m not put off by the loud barking bitterness and intensity, but instead find the flavor of the tea less than desirable. It has a lightly rotten raisin kind of scent, a bit pungent and raw. I can see it being called straw and mushroom, but it doesn’t really carry the elegance or quality that those terms elicit for me. Will certainly be game for trying this tea in 10-20 years. Finally, the qi is a bit fast and unsettling, like an unstable vibration.

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I entirely under-appreciated this tea on my first go with it a while back. Every time I revisit one of these teas, I realize how inexperienced I was when I started cracking into samples over a year ago. Today, under wonderful snowed-in conditions, it breathes hearthy mushroom flavors up front, finishes with a long draw of cool mint. With a satisfying texture, bright yellow color, and an absolutely delightful theanine buzz, it’s hard for me to say anything bad about this tea. The only downfall might be that it’s fading a touch earlier than I expected.

A year after, my perception of this tea has shift much, as I have gained considerably experience since the trip I took to Fang last January. I went through a period of brewing this tea badly, under poor conditions and not being deliberate or considerate about the process. Now, at home, with time, this tea again breathes many of the flavors I originally appreciate it for. Currants, gingseng, buckwheat honey, cranberries, and chervil. I also know now that it’s not quite as good as I once thought it to be, but that it’s still a respectable roasted oolong, although perhaps, not at its going price.

Sad to see this tea go, I am grateful to be embraced by its intense warm energy one last time. Soft, soothing, warm and buzzing. This is a fine puerh in my book. Rich, balanced, and with a multicolor display of flavor and nuance. Today, I’m riffing on an intense tropical vanilla scent. It’s juicy, but finishes with a clean, herbal bite that makes it satisfying, quenching, and demanding of another sip. Worthy of the price, I just wish it weren’t so.

Sample provided by Jas eTea. First pours bring strong currents of talc, minerals, and white powders. I know some people get excited about this element, but I don’t particularly enjoy. A few steeps in, this tea lights up with dates, south asian spices, and woodiness, with some distant citrus. The textures starts shallow for me, but deepens and softens with a gentle wheat-like flavor. The wet leaves hold a cellar or forest floor character that doesn’t show up in the aroma or flavor. I give this tea good marks for being low in strong fermentation character and above average in complexity.

First tea of 2011 was the last of this tea. It’s pretty empty these days. I was wrong. I found some more.

I finally broke down and had my last sample of this tea. And more puerh experience under my belt, I’ll say that I think this is a pretty damn good example. At 7 years old, this tea was surprisingly and quickly green-leafed, with a beautiful yellow soup. There’s a great blend of sizable leaves and rather small buds. Strong finishing bitterness followed light and delightful tropical fruit notes and just the right amount of puerh funk. It’s steeping like a champ (maybe somewhere near the 20th). Great stuff.

I love this tea for the big fresh cocoa powder and dark chocolate bark alkalinity that the dry leaf aroma opens with, which then transitions into an herbal, spicy, complex earth tone. First steeps grab onto this and pour on sweetened, aged, cooked, and dried peaches, pears, and golden plums. I wish that it held out a little longer, but compared to many oolongs, it’s very robust. The levels of roast and oxidation on this tea are well balanced to produce a tea that has great fruit character, but adds darker, caramelized and spice-laden complexity for holding the drinker’s attention.

I purchased this from Jas eTea for a comparable price and am very impressed with it. I think the playing up of the cinnamon is reasonable. It comes through nicely in the aroma as a Mexican mole or spiced hot chocolate. This tea also has a big fruit bouquet, with punching white grapefruit, simmered yellow plums, and candied apples. Flavors percolate in goat milk caramel, toast, honey, and a bit of soy. Complex, easy to brew, and very enjoyable. Worth seeking out in my opinion.

I surprise myself, resisting all evolutionary tactics of self-preservation, and drink something that immediately smells like old compost and a grandmother’s boudoir. The aroma is strong and thick with talcum powder, black humus, and musty cellar. I rinse twice.

This tea does reveal an early hint of quality, by showing stunning clarity in the first pour. Nonetheless, the intense milky talc dominates the front edge of this tea. Old, dried maple twigs come to mind. Sweetness moderates the long finish. A tea to be sipped very slowly, as it has strong potency. Later steeps lose the mustiness and pick up sweetened grains.

The qi is a bit unsettling to me. It’s foggy and full of cobwebs, making me feel a bit distant. I’m not sure that well-aged shu is for me, or at least examples aged similarly to this one.

Opening up the last of my sample, I was surprised to be met with a bit of a spicy, woodsy “aged” aroma in the dry leaf, more akin to older sheng than the fresh stuff. Somehow my attitude towards this tea has change. Perhaps I’ve gotten better at brewing it, or my palate is shifting. Regardless, I could smell mint pouring off the freshly wet leaves. The sourness I remarked on before was absent and this tea gave a great array earthy wood, mushroom, tannin, and leaf tones. Sure, there’s some cooked black-tea-esque character too it, but I don’t find it shallow, hollow, or empty.

The wet leaves opened with hot cotton, warm dryers and some bursts of intense ashy smoke. The first flavors rocked between cantaloupe and cooked strawberry and freshly smoked whitefish.

Middle steeps produced a light tartness in the vein of white cranberry flesh – but never intensely sour.

This yiwu proved dazzling in the finish, with a lovely, terse, complex bitterness holding long and giving herbal satisfaction. I enjoyed this tea’s understated, complex, and composed beauty. Wrapping up with fermented cocoa nib dryness in the throat, it was hard not to be impressed. This is my kind of sheng.

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Picked this one up from JAS eTea to have a relatively easy drinking shu pu’er at work and am very satisfied. It breaks easily into a nice array of small leaves, with a pleasant, slightly cocoa-infused dry leaf aroma.

Overall, it has a pleasant, soft grain flavor and texture. Cream of rice or cream of wheat, perhaps. A bit of honey, a bit of chocolate, and nice classic shu pu’erh flavor. Those fearing strong “wo dui” will be glad to know this has little to none. It is a bit simple, but not boring. There are hearty flavors there and for me, it delivers what I need from a shu pu’er. It’s certainly a great value for the money and quality.

I purchased this exact tea through JAS eTea (and didn’t have to deal with shipping from China).

The aroma on the dry and wet leaves of this tea are incredible. They have the dankest, most aromatic puckery white grape smell. It’s just incredibly pungent, fruity, and floral, backed with some straw and immediately sweet. It’s not the most even pile of buds, there are a few unfolded leaves, stems, and bits of other things.

I hold in my mind a real notion of wildness with this white tea. Something a little rough around the edges, of forest-origin, and maybe a bit unpredictable. The flavors rise from the forest floor in a certainly musky and rich combination of young pu’er like funk and the delightful strawberry flesh that I find many white teas have. It’s got a delightful fermented character to it that lends a bit of fino sherry or white wine flavor, deepening the overall complexity.

I really enjoy the super-high-grade silver needles that are refined, elegant, and perfumed, but I enjoy this too a funky, fermented, puer-like, wild strain silver needle.

Well, now I know where JAS eTea sources their green teas. I bought this exact tea from their online store. It was bit more expensive, but I didn’t have to deal with shipping from China, which I appreciate.

I’ve been shying away from the classic Chinese greens, mostly because they require relatively urgent drinking (compared to pu’er) and I have been focusing on more robust teas lately, especially as autumn has come. However, I wanted to throw something into the mix of my weekly drinking and this fit the bill.

I almost always take my greens with a much shorter steep than recommended, since I think they have such wonderful, light, airy fleeting qualities that can get overrun in two to four minute steeps. This is no exception. Light chestnut sweetness, creamy wheatgrass, and tangy flower blossoms. A delightful green, vegetal, and chlorphyll-laden soup, that reminds me of my early days of exploring Chinese tea.

Surprisingly, the dry leaf composition may have been at least a quarter small bits and near-dust. This may just be the way the cake crumbles. Despite many tiny pieces, the steeped leaves revealed a unique blend of very large leaves, small buds, and bits. The wet leaf aromas were swirling, complex, and shapeshifting. Rinsing brought a bevy of damp moss, wet bark, agarwood, decaying leaves and trillium blossom. Lots of dew. The first full steep ignited a resin-inspired forest fire. Further leaf aromas came with damp, wet rocks and further forest floor detritus. Flavors were seemingly light. Initially, I got a lot of cooked tomato out of it, but the flavors eventually developed into an enjoyable array of fresh mushroom characters, stemmy, woody, and with distant umami.

Unfortunately noticeable was a suffering texture. Slick, soapy, and with a soup nose of slight pool, the effect of chlorine came through, despite a hard boil of the water. It dampened the experience of the first steeps and clouded the liquor aromas. Redeeming the unfortunate damage I did to the tea, was the fact that it brought on a quick, warming, and rising qi. Soft, but direct, my core warmed and my head floated as the tea coursed through me. I sit now, pleasantly relaxed, and centered in a warm, autumn sun. *Look for an update on this tea soon, when I can enjoy it with filtered water.

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