I’m used to teas within a certain broad category having similar taste profiles: teas from Yunnan can be placed along a continuum that includes honey, malt, a little spice, chocolate; darjeelings taste like darjeelings; Keemuns—leather, red wine, tobacco. I rarely have a cup of tea and think, “Wow. I’ve never tasted anything like this before.” You know where this is going. My first sip of the Mi Xian was truly distinctive. There was a pleasant perfume taste/smell, but what lingers is . . . how can I describe it, the smell of a summer garden in the hot sun, specifically, the way mature tomato plants smell. This earthiness was entirely different from that of a ripe pu-erh, which evokes mustiness and decay. This tea suggests the fullness of the late-summer harvest, the lazy drone of dragonflies, corn and tomatoes on the table. A really original and intriguing tea.