Among modern tea makers dahongpao, rather than referring to a very exclusive tea from a specific set of bushes in the Wuyi preserve, is usually a sort of house blend which the producers feel is representative of their house style. (Well, unless you notice the tea costs more than your mortgage for a gram or two.)
According to their website, the @white2tea dahongpao is a Meizhan heavy blend prepared along traditional lines, medium roast and oxidation.
White2Tea dahongpao is a very good introduction to the Wuyi Yancha style, balanced and with surprisingly punchy in energy content. It will get your morning going and stoke your enthusiasm and curiousity for Rock Oolong.
According to the blurb, White2Tea requested a roasting style for this rougui that they were hoping would highlight “mineral aspects and aromas” in the tea.
And, indeed, there is very little perfume or fruit to this tea’s flavors. It is more on the savory side. There is a slight astringency, as well, that keeps things interesting. And it has flavor that keeps going for a few more steeps than is usual in a rock oolong.
No.8 rougui probably wouldn’t be my desert island rougui, but it is a super interesting tea that amplifies certain aspects of rock oolong in a fascinating manner.
If you’ve struggled with identifying the mineral character in rock oolong, here’s one that shows you exactly what that is all about.
“This green oolong comes from the gardens of Luoyan Village [罗岩村]. Roughly 800 meters above sea level, the tea bushes grow in fields and terraces alongside a small variety of native plants…This is the Summer harvest, made in July of 2019. Because this tea was grown in the summer without any pesticides, leafhoppers bite the tea leaves and provide the tea with its distinctive sweetness. The picking standard of this tea is roughly 1 bud for every 2 leaves. The leaves were withered in the sun, shaken and oxidized by hand, and then fired and shaped by machine before drying. The tea itself is sweet, buttery and floral. It is a very approachable tea.”
One of the interesting parts about the tea scene is that occasionally people and companies simply just disappear. They stop posting to social media and their websites vanish. Ghost teas.
This is an Anxi Oolong that a company called “Breathing Leaves” sold a couple years ago. They’ve seemingly shut down since then and the proprietor has disappeared from social media.
The tea is called “Luoyan Leafhopper”. The first impressions are of the Ooolong perfume, and it is indeed sweet and thick, like a bug bitten tea, but with more astringency and, along green tea lines, and a bit of surprising, and pleasant, huigan, or lingering sweet bitterness, that makes itself known in the aftertaste as the tea cools.
It is a very nice tea. I am not usually a fan of low oxidation Oolongs and this is very well done. I am a bit sad that the company seems to have disappeared, (Or at least gone into hibernation, as the last time I looked, their website was still up, but the shop shuttered. I tried to contact the proprietor with comments about enjoying his teas, but received no response.)
(Not to mention, they also sold some really good, well priced, Puerh.)
Trying to build a brand on social media is a thankless job, seems like lightening in a bottle, one in a hundred thousand, unless you are previously famous, or have the guts and commitment for a very long haul. Take it from someone who has had websites for almost as long as there has been an internet, and even a pretty “successful” one for a while. Don’t think it’s easy path to quick money, success, and fame.
The “BGT” here is a Raw Puerh cake known as “Big Green Tree” (because there is a picture of a big green tree in the middle of the wrapper).
To explain, in the early days of pu-erh enthusiasts, most of the teas were distributed by the Chinese National Tea Company (CNNP) with only Chinese characters on the wrappers. Puerh enthusiasts who didn’t read Chinese characters would distinguish between these various puerhs based on the main graphic feature of the label. “Big Yellow Mark”, “Small Yellow Mark”, “Big Red Mark”, “Small Red Mark”, and, obviously, “Big Green Tree”. The early, pretty legendary, versions of “Big Green Tree” were distributed by CNNP and very highly thought of among the teas of that time.
In the late 1990s and early 2000s, a Guangzhou tea collector and distributor named Ye Bing Huai started commissioning teas under the name “Big Green Tree” as a tribute (or attempt to reproduce those teas). He worked with different companies for a while, but recently they have mostly been made by the Xiaguan Tea Company.
The initial impressions are of a nearly Lapsang level of smoke. Later flavors are autumn forest floor, leather, tobacco leaves, perfume/incense, wood, and finally camphor. Very good length of flavor and complexity, but definitely a Puerh for Scotch and Mezcal lovers. I no longer drink Scotch (or smoke), but I do enjoy a Puerh that evokes those flavors.
Given the darkness of the leaves, and its relative youth, it seems like this tea must have spent at least part of its life, (before traveling to Slovakia,) in pretty fast storage, i.e. hot and/or humid. However, given the smoky burly nature of the tea flavors, it is still relatively clean tasting.
The tea provides a nicely zippy, but not unpleasant, long lasting head based energy.
As someone who grew up in the Midwest, obviously, I am going to buy a tea called “Midwest Nice”. Basically, no matter what the tea.
This raw puerh from White2Tea is one of their exercises in forming tea cakes using a traditional method of steaming the tea inside roasting fresh canes of fragrant bamboo. It’s a complicated and labor intensive process, which they usually employ for a few tea batches every year. If you’re interested, it is covered in depth on their blog: Bamboo Style of Puer
The tea picks up sweet toasty/grassy flavors from the fragrant bamboo, a bit like fresh corn grilled in the husk at a Midwestern corn boil (or Mexican tamales steamed in corn husks).
I’ve tried a couple of their Bamboo Ripe Puerhs, usually on the younger side, but this is the first time I’ve tried…
a) one of their bamboo raw puerhs
b) a bamboo compressed tea with any significant amount of age.
At this point, 6 years down the line, as a raw puerh in its young middle age, the flavor and sweetness of the bamboo has completely integrated into the tea.
And indeed, if you are expecting a tea with big, burly upfront Puerh punch-you-in-the-face flavor, Midwest Nice is not currently that tea. The flavor is soft and sweet, its main attributes and charms existing more in its aftertaste and lingering post consumption impressions than in the flavor of the tea while you are actually drinking the tea. The energy of the tea is a calming, warming, body buzz.
So, while the expression “Midwest Nice” generally refers to a superficial niceness independent of your actual feelings about someone or something, I can say that I do not have to employ any false niceness to say good things about the 2015 Midwest Nice Raw Puerh. It is a truly nice tea.
Liubao is a regional Chinese tea from Guangxi province.
The more common form of Liubao is a fermented/oxidized dark version similar, but pre-dating, ripe puerh style tea. This is another type, more similar to raw puerh. The unusual thing about this type of LiuBao is that older leaves, and even stems, are purposely used. The name “Lao Cha Po” means something like “Old Granny Tea” or maybe “Old Tea Granny”. From what I can tell, the reason for the name is that this was a tea that tea farmers would make for themselves, simply processing and drying the tea leaves in their homes. Of course, the Grannies and the Wives would do the hard work of processing the tea.
I’ve seen pictures of Liu Bao La Cha Po and always been struck by how much it looks like nothing more than a pile of leaf litter. (I’m tempted to start a series of instagram posts, “leaf litter or liu bao?”) In any case, I’ve always been very curious what such unusual, and often visually imperfect appearing, tea leaves might taste like.
With both versions of liu bao, it is not uncommon for the tea to be aged for decades. However, this is unaged fresh tea.
Because the tea leaves are older and thicker, both types of Liubao are often prepared by long simmering the leaves in a pot and adding more water as the tea gets drunk and the water level gets lower.
So, that’s what I did. I gave 7g of the tea a good soak with some boiling water and poured it off. Then I added the rinsed tea to 16oz (475ml) water and brought it to a simmer. When it was at a simmer, I poured half off into cups and drank. When I’d finished, I added another 8 oz water to the tea water and brought it again to a simmer. Et cetera, until it tasted more like water than tea. What I will say is that that first simmer after the rinse didn’t taste like much. While hydration is never bad, you could probably discard both the first rinse AND first simmer without missing much.
The tea smell and flavor is very unique and reminds me of a plant smell from my youth which I still can’t quite place. One thing Mrs Flannestad mentioned is that the kitchen smells a bit like it does when she steams fresh artichokes, minty-vegetal-grassy. The flavor of the tea has a herbaceous sweetness that lingers on your palate.
This is a wood roasted version of the same material used in the above Green Liubao Laochapo.
Definite smokey roasted smell as you open the bag.
Again making this by simmering the tea leaves. If anything, the roast version seems to take even longer to start giving up its flavor.
Initially my thoughts were that I preferred the green version, but as the simmering went on the roasted tea expressed even more interesting and complex flavors than the green had. At one point something like a maple flavor came through, at others more typical tea astringency. Like the green Laochapo, this is a tough tea to pin down. With a base from the flavor of the tea and the smoke of the roast, other flavors dance in and out as the steeps progress. Cool.
I don’t know if either of these teas would make it into my daily or weekly routine, (unless I was visiting Guangxi province in China,) but they are super unique, unusual, and interesting representatives of the Chinese Tea family. Another educational and pleasurable shipment from the White2Tea Club!
One of the interesting things about the various lists of “Big 10 Famous Chinese Teas” (十大中国名茶)” is there is usually only one black tea on the list.
Most of the world drinks nothing but Black teas, but, in China, most black tea, (they call them red or “hong cha”,) is not very highly thought of.
As I discussed in the post about Lapsang Wild Tea, the creation of black tea was (allegedly) a happy accident when the green tea making of a mountain village in the Wuyi area of Fujian province was interrupted by a raiding party and the tea left to oxidize for longer than usual.
In any case, the single black tea traditionally included among the Chinese lists of “Big 10 Famous Chinese Teas” (十大中国名茶)” is usually Qimen, (usually anglicized to “Keemun” in the West).
“Keemun is produced exclusively in the Qimen County in the south of Anhui province. The name of the tea is an older Western spelling of the name of the nearby town, Qimen (pronounced “Chee-men”). The tea-growing region lies between the Yellow Mountains and the Yangtze River. The cultivar used for Keemun is the same as that used in production of Huangshan Maofeng. While the latter is an old, well-known variety of green tea, Keemun was first produced in 1875 using techniques adapted from Fujian province farmers.
“Many varieties of Keemun exist, with different production techniques used for each. Nevertheless, any Keemun undergoes particularly slow withering and oxidation processes, yielding more nuanced aroma and flavor. Some of Keemun’s characteristic floral notes can be attributed to a higher proportion of geraniol, compared to other black teas.”
I’ve drunk Keemun/Qimen quite a few times over the years, but for the most part I’ve had the very coarse types which are easily available in the US. While not usually bitter or overly astringent, these types are very strongly flavored, with a medicinal umami character that is unmistakeable even when it is used as part of a tea blend. I always describe that distinct flavor as a bit similar to the iodine tang of lowland Scotch whiskey.
I’ve even tried to order Qimen from different sources, but never really found any that helped me to understand why it deserved its place among China’s top 10 teas.
Through my travels in the tea circles on instagram, I became familiar with a user called @soiwatter, a French national who was living in China learning about Chinese teas. Even going so far as to help out with the harvest and processing of Tai Ping Hou Kui last year. He posted some great photos from his time there, which helped me understand the tea harvesting and processing steps.
When he posted to instagram wondering if any of his instagram followers would be interested in trying directly imported high grade Tai Ping Hou Kui and Qimen teas, I quickly raised my hand.
If you look at the photos below, you can see this is not at all a coarse tea. In fact, it appears to be bud only with a few small stems, early spring tea, of very high quality.
Wonderful bakery scents in the dry leaves. When steeped, super clean in flavor, with the savory medicinal notes only appearing in the background. Lingering umami/savory sweet bitterness which lingers in your palate and mind. Good resteepability for gong fu style brewing, at least 6 or more, and it was still going.
Strong cha qi, which, even as I write this at 8pm, I am still feeling from this morning in my chest and throat.
Easily one of the most elegant black teas I’ve tasted.
“Mei” is a grading term often used with Fujian black tea. It literally means “eyebrow” and refers to, basically, single buds the size of an eyebrow lash. It is bud only tea from very early in the season.
When I was weighing this out, I pulled out a big pinch figuring it was way more than 7g. But the tiny buds, without hardly any stem and no leaves, is super fluffy and light. The big pinch turned out to be nearly exactly 7g, even less dense than the bud heavy Qimen above.
Distinguishing it flavor-wise gets a little tricky, as it is the same tea, picked a few days earlier in the season, and sorted for smaller buds and no stems.
I talked a bit about the medicinal note in the Qimen above. That is non-existent in the Qimen Qi Mei. Instead there is a stronger floral character, (Retour des Montagnes Jaunes describe it as rose-like and I agree,) in both the dry tea and the tea in the cup.
That floral character that the scent of the dry leaves promises is stronger through the whole drinking experience, it is rounder and softer in the soup. For a bud only tea, I got a good number of steeps.
I think the cha qi of the Qimen Qi Mei is slightly more calming than the Qimen. All bud only teas have strong cha qi, it is intense in the Qi Mei, but a bit more even.
I said the Qimen was one of the most elegant teas of tried so far, and the Qimen Qi Mei ups the ante on that tea, bringing a stronger floral note and better, more evenly integrated flavor and smell.
Retour des Montagnes Jaunes calls this Qimen “fragrant spirals”, but it is also sometimes called “aromatic snail”, due to the curly shape of the dried leaves.
This is an earlier pick than either of the other teas, but a larger sort, and also a longer oxidation, making this a more assertive, full bodied tea.
However, of course, it is still a mostly bud, very early spring tea with a very clean sort, so it isn’t going to be anything thing like the broken large leaf “keemum” typically found in most Western tea blends. There is a bit of the medicinal character I mentioned in the plain Qimen, but it is mostly in the early steeps. The later steeps are given over to stone fruit and rose character, maybe even a bit of sweet date. The added length of oxidation gives it a bit more resteepability than the other two teas.
The folks from Retour des Montagnes Jaunes have said this is their favorite of the three Qimen teas and I can see why.
I am glad Retour des Montagnes Jaunes have chosen to feature these Qimen among their offerings. It is hard to find exceptional examples of this famous Chinese tea, and tasting the three illustrates why Qimem deserves its place among the “Big 10 Famous Chinese Teas”.
If I were to compare the three, the Qimen Qi Mei feels like a rich, floral special occasion tea. The Qimen and Qimen Xiang Luo are also special, but a little more down to earth and accessible, highlighting the richer and fruitier aspects of the tea. But, really, you can’t go wrong with any of the three, they are all amazing teas.
“Old arbor large leaf varietal tea that is usually destined to be made in raw Puer, picked and processed into dianhong style tea with sun drying. We also have a white tea version of the same material.
“Arbor red has an herbaceous fragrance and flavors that often border on medicinal. Sweetness underlies the complex flavors and heavy body of this tea. This is an enduring and heavy black tea best suited for a longer, gongfu style tea session.”
I have a bit of a love/hate relationship with Yunnan red teas (aka black. In China what we call “black tea” they call “Red Tea” or Hong Cha).
Young Yunnan black tea can be tad harsh and astringent, with cranberry and sour cherry flavors standing out and twisting in your stomach.
In older Yunnan black tea, the fruit fades and they inch into leather and dry forest floor type flavors, but sometimes the harshness or mellows into bitterness.
There is a sweet spot, though, between enthusiastic youth and dusty age where Yunnan Red Teas can be quite nice.
Personally, I like to drink them in the fall here in CA. Once the fire season sets in, it’s time for me to put away the light summer green tea and move into something that can stand up to a little smoke.
When, in 2019, I ordered this cake of 2018 White2tea Arbor Red, I was hoping to get it right in that sweet spot. I even figured that, being in a cake, some of that youthful exuberance might be preserved.
The first thing I noticed on unwrapping the cake was how great it smelled, like dried cherries and plums. Just fantastic.
But, when I brewed, I noticed it was not very red, more of an orange.
And when I smelled the brewed tea, and tasted, I got a bit of smoke wrapping around a mild flavor with a lingering sweet complex bitterness in the aftertaste.
What I’ll say is that this is not so much a Red tea for Red tea lovers, as a Red tea for Puerh drinkers.
Someone who likes English Breakfast tea (or even other Chinese red tea,) is probably not gonna dig this tea. But someone who digs Puerh tea might taste it and say, “Huh, that’s some interesting and subtle character. This is a Red Tea I can get into!”
“The 2019 Dangerfield was blended with an intention of being a poor man’s Naka.”
Sometimes there is an, ahem, danger with Puerh, in that there is a lot of jargon and knowledge of that jargon is assumed. For example, before receiving this tea and doing a little research, I had no idea what the characteristics of “Naka” Puerh would be and why it would be prized.
Na Ka is a village in the Menghai county of Yunnan China. For a long time tea from this village was highly prized and not allowed to be sold outside of China.
Authentic “Naka” has gotten to be quite expensive, (#white2tea sells a 2005 Naka for around $1 a gram,) and is known among Western Puerh fanciers for its strong body centered cha qi. Young Naka from old trees is also known for a middle bitterness that gives way to a long lasting sweet aftertaste.
This is not Naka, but is a blend of Raw Puerh which is intended to evoke the flavor and physiological effects of an aged Naka Puerh.
The early flavors are clean and on the dry side, a bit earthy. These give way to a medium level middle palate bitterness. The bitterness fades leaving an lingering appetizing sensation of lightness and sweetness on the palate. The cha qi is more of a slow build than a fast head rush, but it is noticeably there and also clean and pleasant. Not a bad trip.
I have not had an actual Naka, but I can tell you this is a good, well priced Puerh that will not disappoint, either if you are looking to expand your tea drinking horizons, or if you are an experienced Puerh drinker trying to shave a little money off your tea cake budget.
At $33 for a 357g cake, this seems almost too good to be true!
But it is a good, solid, clean tasting Pu-Erh that, as they say on the Mud and Leaves site, would make a fine “daily drinker”.
Like the Tianming Bang Dong, the flavors are on the forest floor/umami side of Pu-Erh. There is a small amount of bitterness, but not as strong as the Bang Dong. It has good length of flavor, as well. Cha qi, aka tea energy, is also lighter than the Bang Dong, but decidedly present.
I’m a little sad that I’ve already drunk my way through the sample I’ve enjoyed drinking it, but onwards and upwards!
*I received this tea as part of a sampler I won from Mud and Leaves after entering an instagram based contest.