Tea Horse, Wuyi Yancha

{ I'm late. Well, not yet,
but if I keep fooling around
with this tea blog,
I will be. }

Oh, you tea-blog readers, sitting in your verandas, sipping your top-shelf cognacs and counting the butterflies as they flit through your walled English garden; you world travelers, stopping in at a WiFi station on Mount Everest; you CEOs who are pretending to work while you've cleverly delegated everything, and now it's a choice between your golf swing and a few minutes reading The 39 Steeps. You all think that all I do is, well, what you do. But, no! I am late. I have no time to write a tea blog today. I'm busy! So pardon the unedited writing, the quick typing, and the inevitable typos and stupid verbal tics I employ when I'm in a rush.

However, I have a tea that, if I don't write about it now, I never shall. I'm at the bottom of the package, the last portion, the final bit. If I wait until tomorrow, it'll be too late, and my brilliant observations will slowly fade, like memories of Collette What's-her-name, that girl whom I had a crush on in seventh grade. (Yes, I know her last name, but I'll spare her the humiliation of association with me.) The tea is a Wuyi Yancha, served by Tea Horse in the UK.

Watch the clock. Don't write too much. Pardon me, all, because I type 90 words per minute, and I don't have the time to make this shorter. --Hurry, hurry! Break all your rules about taking your time, so you can get this out and not blow your deadline!

{ Thank you, BoingBoing, for finding this lure. }

I'm going to make you do your homework. You know how to Google, right? Look up Wuyi Yancha. It's an oolong, grown around WuYi, which is to say, the Wu Mountain. (If you say Wuyi Mountain, it's like saying, "Wu Mountain Mountain." Unless I have my Chinese all screwed up, and I don't have the time-- the time!-- to look it up properly to double-check my assertion. Rats. Well, catch me if you can.)

the tea flight

As I finished my first steeping of this tea, gongfu style, of course, and I sat at my computer, the aroma hit. It's deep, with a kind of a musk to it. It's complex and foresty, sort of like a rich plummy taste; but not terribly floral, neither vegetal. You tea drinkers know what I'm talking about. It reminds one of Autumn, of the aroma of the mulch underfoot as you walk through a dark path in the woods, with mature grasses and decayed leaves in the underbrush. It's a deep summer smell, an almost-Fall smell. And it caught me, lured me in. (Ha! See? You knew the lure picture would show up eventually. Don't you love that pig-elephant-bee thing? Brilliant.) 

The flavor on the first, 30-second steeping: A touch weak (my fault), but complex with a beautiful aftertaste that lasts and lasts and lasts. (Missing Oxford commas. I'm late! No time to fix.) There's a sharpness there, along with the deeper notes, which nicely offset one another. This tea might have legs, but I don't know yet.

{ David Bowie's pants might also have legs. }

And the second steeping, clocking in around 40 seconds. The leaves are a deep black with hints of deep green; long, beautiful leaf-looking leaves, just opening up. They had been tightly curled, but now they're relaxing, kind of loosening up their ties, letting their hair down, and getting ready to dance.

{ Relaxed, but not as hostile or byronesque. }

The Yancha is, frankly, just a bit less exciting than I had hoped for. Strongly mineral in quality, rather less fragrant than the first time 'round, and the aroma from the pot is almost nonexistent. Note to self: Occasionally, follow the directions on the package. They said, Brew for three minutes, not for 40 seconds. Maybe, just maybe, they were right.

{ When a tea infusion fails, I doubt myself.
Like this guy, but without any plans to marry my daughter. }

In previous infusions of this tea, I had a livelier time of it, with a good second infusion-- not a knock-your-socks-off experience, but nicely solid, with a lot of flavor to sink your teeth into. Here, I'm thinking I may have used just a touch too few leaves for the amount of water, and I should have let it steep a bit longer for the full potential of the tea.  This shows the difference between, say, a vintage Cab and a tea. For the Cabernet Sauvignon, you just have to (a) keep the bottle an appropriate length of time; (b) open the bottle; (c) choose the right glasses; (d) pour the bottle into the glasses: (e) wait a while so the esters can uncoil, loosing the flavor; and (f) drink-- hopefully with friends.

But with tea, you actually have to make tea. It doesn't come in a bottle, and you have to get to know your teas, learning from them as they teach you how to make them properly. If I had a half-pound of this Wuyi Yancha, I would then relax over the semi-failure of this experiment, and I'd go ahead and make ready for another tea flight. More time! More leaves! Try again, until you get what you get what you came for!

But as it is, I'll have to settle for a rather mediocre drinking experience brought about entirely by me experimenting to see what works and what doesn't.

Still, a pretty nice cup of tea. When I sip it, I am experiencing it mostly in the aftertaste, what lingers on the tongue after the tea's been swallowed. Rich, complex, a touch smoky. I only wish I had listened to directions! I only wish I had more tea! I only wish I had more time to write and think more about this! But I'm going to be late if I write another word of this review, and I must be about my real bread-and-butter business.

Third steeping: Pleasant. Still on the weak side, but I can taste this smoky-musky-fruit thing that makes me think of roasted plums and perhaps an herbal tint, like a muted but distinct wild thyme. This is definitely a tea that opens itself up to you in the aftertaste, as it lingers on the tongue. Don't be fooled by the first bite of the tea, because the retronasal experience is da money. Advice: Allow the tea to sit in the pot for a few minutes for the magic of chemistry to do its work, complexifying the tea and letting it come into its full body. The third steeping was the place I was waiting for, and I'm happy I stayed for it. Now I'm definitely going to be late on my deadline. I blame you, gentle readers!

Thank you, Tea Horse, for allowing me to experiment with your tea!

REVIEW: Keemun, Chicago Coffee and Tea Exchange

(This review will be in several parts on this topic. I wrote extensively, hit the wrong key, and lost what I had done. Now I'll post in pieces so I can't lose too much time or work. Hurrah, I'm writing a serial! Like Oliver Twist! I'm sure you all will be checking in hourly to see how the review is coming along.)

http://www.coffeeandtea.com/

Surprise, delight, dismay. "Keemun!" These were my emotions yesterday, when I discovered a package of tea sitting in the back of my tea cabinet when I had just drink my last cup of the "good stuff," and was rummaging around to find something. I was surprised to find it hidden back there; delighted that I didn't now need to drive a goodly distance to buy some more; and dismayed because I typically try to drink my tea in six months so it doesn't go stale. I can't stand stale tea, which creates, more often than not, an indifferent brew that makes me think, "Meh, why bother?" This tea must have been back there just about six months. I was concerned this would be one of those pots.

I typically buy in bulk from either Chicago Coffee and Tea Exchange or Tea Gschwendner. CTTE used to be my one and only place to buy tea when I lived near their shop, but now that I've discovered the Internet, I am branching out to other sources, as well. CTTE gives very good customer service, and their teas are what I would consider very good, second-tier teas. That is to say, they'll sell a couple kinds of Darjeelings, several oolongs, and a number of other varieties of "true," unflavored teas; but the teas won't necessarily come from an individual tea garden or flush that I can identify.

And so: a package titled, Keemun. Hm, not enough information to go on. I've drunk this before, but it's been awhile, and I've been trying to educate my palate a little bit more consciously since then. Time to read up a bit, while I drink.

The Coffee & Tea Exchange Web site says:
Keemun
Famous for its superb flavor and aroma, a fine and twisted leaf with a complex flavor and distinctive aroma.

CONTINUING: A bit of history about Keemun.

I did a bit of research. Apparently (British people, take note), Keemun tea is the primary ingredient in English Breakfast tea blends. Zoka Coffee ( http://secure.zokacoffee.com/tea/TPW-KEEMUN.html ) says the following:

Origin Notes

Keemun is produced in the Qimen County of Huangshan Shi, in Anhui (Anhwei) province of China. "Keemun" was actually the English spelling for "Qimen" during the colonial era.

"Keemun has a relatively short history. It was first produced in 1875 by a failed civil servant, Yu Quianchen, after he traveled to Fujian province to learn the secrets of black tea production. Prior to that, only green tea was made in Anhui. The result exceeded his expectations, and the excellent Keemun tea quickly gained popularity in England, and became the most prominent ingredient of the English Breakfast tea blend."

AND MY WORRIES that the tea would go bad quickly were also set to rest: http://www.englishteastore.com/1mt-kp.html English Tea Store says the following:

"Of all the China black teas available Keemun Panda #1 is probably one of the best known. Keemun is one of the congou-type teas; meaning it requires a great deal of gongfu, (disciplined skill) to make into fine taut strips without breaking the leaves. Interestingly the characters in the written Chinese script for time and labor are the same as those used for ‘gongfu’. It is often said that a properly produced Keemun such as Panda #1 is one of the finest teas in the world with a complex aromatic and penetrating character often compared to burgundy wines. Traditionally keemuns were used in English Breakfast tea.

"Keemun is one the best-keeping black teas. Fine specimens will keep for years if stored properly and take on a mellow winey character.

"The name Keemun comes from Qimen county in southern Anhui province, where almost all the mountains are covered with tea bushes. Qimen county produced only green tea until the mid 1870’s. Around that time a young man in the civil service lost his job. Despite being totally heartbroken and completely embarrassed by his shame, he remembered what his father told him - ‘A skill is a better guarantor of a living than precarious officialdom’. Following this advice, the young man packed up his courage and his bags to travel to Fujian Province to learn the secrets of black tea manufacturing. Upon his return to Qimen in 1875 he set up three factories to produce black tea. The black tea method was perfectly suited to the tea leaves produced in this warm moist climate with well drained sandy soil. Before long, the superb flavor of Keemuns became very popular around the world."

I LIKE that story! Failed bureaucrat goes out and creates a world-class tea.

BACK to the review. See what happens, if I get interrupted by events (and deleting my post prematurely)? I dropped a few hundred words, and still didn't get around to discussing the tea itself.

Dry leaves: very dark black, almost dusty appearance. Tightly twisted leaf. It has a nicely sharp smell.

Wet leaves: Actually, quite dull smelling. Of course, wet leaves don't really indicate the flavor of the tea itself, but they can add to my pleasure nevertheless. The leaves smelled slightly like ash, and they're dark black.

Preparation: 4 tsps, boiling water in cast-iron tetsubin, 3 minutes.

Initial impression: Very smoky, almost like a Lapsang Souchong. Smoky is not my favorite characteristic in tea, ever since my friends discovered I liked Lapsang, and they gave me too much of it. I wonder how that flavor develops in teas that are not actually smoked over pine needles?

With a touch of milk and sugar (I know, I know, shoot me): the smokiness is minimized, allowing me to taste some of the nuance of the tea. It's a though the roof of my mouth (or the part of my tongue that corresponds to that area) notes the smokiness, but the back of my mouth senses these other things... a floral note, very elusive. Very brisk flavor, but with a rather thick, malty mouth-feel. I wish I hadn't noticed that smokiness first, because I think it's masking the other flavors I'm trying to get a hold of.

All in all, Chicago Coffee & Tea Exchange's Keemun was pleasantly surprising, because it hadn't died in the back of my cupboard. A bit smoky for my taste, but still bracing and enjoyable. And because it was inexpensive, doubly enjoyable!

----------------------------------

And coming back to the tea review: I had run out of my normal Darjeelings, so drinking the Keemun wasn't my first choice. But after drinking it on and off for a week or so, I think I'm done with it. That smokiness sticks in my throat, and I'm just frankly not that interested in this tea to plow past the smoke to try to find the subtle nuances of whatever is hiding back there.

All in all: an okay tea to try out, but for my taste, not something I'll be coming back to soon.