Fishy Pu-erh Taste

Hi All,

As pu-erh has been experiencing a bit of an upswing of awareness in the West, I’ve been reading a lot lately about “fishy” taste – either people’s experience with it, or fear of pu-erh because of it. I wanted to take a minute to talk about it and invite others to do so.

So, the problem is that there is a thing called “xing wei”, which has no clear and direct English translation, but is usually described as “fishy taste”. Let me start by saying that it is NOT an element of good pu-erh. So, if a tea has this, it is bad tea. Part of the problem of this upswing is that, to keep up with demand, many Chinese producers are dumping inferior product on western buyers (nothing new) on the assumption that they won’t know any better.

How to identify and buy high-quality pu-erh is its own discussion.

OK, let me back up a little. A well-aged pu-erh will often mellow to a comfortable “chen wei”, which is generally an undesirable flavour in most teas, but is sought after by many pu-erh drinkers. Chen wei may be detected as “stale” or “musty”, and is usually used to describe a tea which has gone bad. Leave a green tea out for a year in humid environment, and you’ll get chen wei. But, with pu-erh, it has a slightly different connotation. I can best describe it as the smell of rich soil in the forest after a rain fall – that rich, alive but ancient, slightly musty smell. Chen wei, in pu-erh, is that – in liquid form. The description is off-putting to many people, and some never warm up to it. But, it is something I look for.

But, this is very distinct from xing wei, which is tea gone off. It seems like the surest way to get this is to store the tea at a deliberately high humidity in attempt to accelerate the fermentation. In any case, it is damage which is generally done before it reaches your hands. I can smell it right through the wrapper.

With that said, I buy about 10-20 kg of pu-erh each year for my consumption and collection. In other words, I am exposed to a lot of pu-erh. And, I’ve only experienced xing wei (the fishy smell/taste) a few times. Once was with a loose-leaf product I bought at Whole Foods Market (I was traveling and forgot to pack pu-erh). The other 2-3 times, I had it coming, because I bought pu-erh which I knew wouldn’t be good, but I couldn’t resist the price. Live and learn.

But, there’s more to this story. Pu-erh can be a bit of an acquired taste that takes some time to develop. I’ve found that much of what a new pu-erh drinker experiences, has much to do with what they expect. Frequently, when trying a pu-erh for the first time, a person is exposed to new flavours. And, people instinctively try to put labels on those flavours – comparing them to other thing with which they are more familiar. One common experience is that the person expects something analogous to fresh coffee. So, the flavours which contradict that expectation are amplified – frequently exaggerating the chen wei to an unpleasant level. Think about a time when you took a drink of something expecting it to be sweet or warm, or anything other that what you actually experience. Even though the taste wasn’t bad, it wasn’t what you were expecting, and so you have an initial aversion to it.

So, for example, a person might experience a smooth sweetness and say “honey”, because that is the closest thing in their mind. But, I’ve noticed that if I give a cup of tea to someone and tell them what to expect, that’s pretty much what they’ll taste. The suggestion does something to the person that focuses their attention on that aspect of the taste. And, that fishy taste is such an aversion to most people (me included) that once you get it in your head, that’s all you can taste. So, if you’re expecting it, you’ll pick out even the faintest hint of it. And, if you pick up the faintest hint of it, since it has such a strong ick factor, it will overpower the experience.

Therefore, there are some normal aspects of pu-erh flavour which can lead people to experience xing wei, even when the tea is perfectly fine to most pu-erh drinkers. One culprit for this is chen wei (that sort of musty flavour I mentioned). Since this is a new and challenging flavour for most pu-erh newcomers, there can be a tendency to have an initial aversion – particularly if you’re not prepared for it. And, this can cause some people to associate it with all sorts of unpleasant things – like a musty cellar or a stale pond. This is a matter of palate conditioning and expectations. In a really good pu-erh, this flavour is usually just part of the journey that a sip will take you through.

The tea I have at my left hand right now, has an initial floral (vaguely camphor) bite to it. This tapers off into a long and pleasant chen wei, which transitions through a brief nuttiness, and finally a honeysuckle sweet aftertaste that lasts 10-15 minutes. I digress.

The other cause, I sometimes see, has to do with water quality. I can’t stress this enough. City tap water is the enemy of good tea. And, some well water isn’t great. Also, a tea kettle which is allowed to sit all day with room-temperature water or moisture inside – this will bring out stale fishiness in even very good teas.

I am curious about this phenomenon though. Again, I taste a lot of pu-erh, and barely have any experience with this at all (that can’t be attributed to poor water quality). From what I’ve read recently, it would appear that this is a common problem for folks. Again, my theory is that this has to do with low-quality pu-erh. But, I’m curious if there is something else I’m missing here.

Cheers.