Here is a piece written by Tea Andy, describing this year's annual trek to the mountains to purchase winter tea. Andy sells various teas through his website blackdragonteas.com . Check it out. And enjoy.
2009 Winter
Tea shopping began the weekend that a friend of a friend in tea visited from the States for the first time. We promptly left the city and went directly to the home of my tea mentors in Lugu - aka - Deer Valley. Our hostess proceeded to brew three different teas in swift succession. In retrospect I deem this was because she perceived the guest I brought as a buyer interested in tasting the tea she had just finished roasting and had available. Otherwise it would have been a much more casual and spontaneous process of brewing whatever tea was brought to mind in the course of our conversation.
Of course, all three brews were very pleasant and each with its own distinct character - albeit that they were from farms within a five mile radius of each other as the crow flies, and all made in the fashion of Dong Ding Oolong. Their distinctions lie in the variations of flavor and consistency based on their microclimates, and the degree of both oxidation and roasting of the leaves that were harvested from each farm – not to mention the weather around their time of harvest. Some might add that the kind of day that tea maker was having at the time has something to do with it as well. I conclude that all of the above are rather obvious observations that could be called “givens”.
All this having been said, I was not initially struck by any of them as being a tea that I instantly had to have. This also has its own complex combination of influential factors – such as the state of my tastebuds given that I was up til 5 am the night before drinking scotch; or my perceived response of my new tea friend in tasting the teas that he has some serious concepts about. In the end, I think I was just craving some rich, dark, heavily roasted kick-ass winter oolong to revive my feeble form. The three brews I drank were a bit more subtle and delicate than what my needy state warranted. So I kept quiet regarding which one I would choose to procure.
As the conversation ensued in accompaniment of the tea being brewed and imbibed, a specialty tea was revealed to be of interest to the new guest. So the next thing I knew, we were drinking a variation of a tea called “Oriental Beauty”. The variation is called “Gui Fei Cha” – of which I continue to forget the English translation. The variation consists of the tea leaves being rolled tightly in the fashion of Taiwan Oolong in contrast to the traditional “open leaf rolling” that is derived from its mainland progenitor – which is used to make Oriental Beauty. As I understand it, Oriental Beauty is a relatively recent discovery/innovation made by “accident” on this island (although I am not convinced, and I’ll tell you why in a minute). I should research it again instead of winging the story I read/heard somewhere along the line, but it goes something like this...
Once upon a time, a farmer’s (almost assuredly – summer-) crop got infested with what I have observed to be a kind of aphid, although I haven’t scientifically confirmed this. This caused the leaves to shrivel and be stunted in their growth with visible “damage” and discoloration. The latter of which incidentally looks exactly like the effect “oxidation” which is an essential process in the making of Oolong. So in short, the aphid bugs were causing a kind of “pre-harvest oxidation” on the leaves, along with an apparent (or the sense-perception equivalent in the vernacular of taste) chemical adjustment in the leaf resulting from the plant’s immune response to the attack. This all ended up in a scraggly, stunted leaf that made the new growth of the plant look ugly, so the story goes… but the farmer was undeterred, as it was his seasonal crop and was obliged to make of it what he could. So he made it as he evidently saw fit, given the circumstances. And then came the moment of brewing these scraggly leaves… I imagine that farmer as being propelled into a moment of ecstatic revelation that rocked his tea world. Hence, the name “Oriental Beauty” was ordained to this leaf that possessed an inner beauty far beyond the fleeting impressions of external appearances.
It is true that tea leaves that have been bitten by this bug that naturally occurs during the warm wet months of summer produce a brew that is in a class of its own. I personally feel that the most striking quality of Oriental Beauty is its substantial character. I mean this tea has body and legs that will make a tea freak weak in the knees. The integrated qualities of flavor are such that it makes it hard to overbrew, i.e. it doesn’t become overly bitter from being too concentrated. It has a dark, distinctly Oolong character that is very reminiscent of traditional Chinese Oolong, yet much more. I always feel like I hit a pathetic wall when it comes to putting an olfactory-palatal experience into words, but trust me – this tea is worth whoring yourself for – if need be. Okay, I’ll say something about how it tastes. It has qualities of sweetness that are very close to honey – that is the first thing you think of as it coats the palate. And then there is something like rose and pine that first fills the nose and then the entire head really. But there is so much more to it than can be said. Something happens, at least sometimes, when this tea is imbibed. It affects the nervous and endocrine system in ways that will forever make scientists and connoisseurs alike sound like nerds trying to explain it. One more thing about its character though – this tea will outbrew even the most indulgent tea lush. A good Oriental Beauty simply cannot be depleted of flavor and essence no matter how many times you brew it – at least within reason – as I said, it’ll give more than you can take if indeed you begin with the first brew and take it from there.
Well I sure as heck didn’t plan on writing pages about Oriental Beauty, but these things happen. So before I move on, let me just mention why I don’t really believe that it is relatively recent discovery. I can sum it up in one word really: natural. This tea occurs naturally – prior to (and with luck, after) artificial means of pest control. So in other words, it probably has happened (from time to time at least) for as long as people have been drinking tea. But most historical accounts have certain ulterior motives employed by those who write it, so we’ll just acknowledge that for what it is… I will also mention though, that making this type of tea by allowing insect infestation does come at great cost to its makers. The yield is something like one quarter of a non-infested harvest, and infestation has a lasting effect on the productive health of the plant. Basically it comes down to yield, which puts the price of Oriental Beauty in a class of its own as well. Nevertheless, I intend to seek out this tea and share it when I can, especially now since I’ve ranted at such length about it.
Back to winter tea shopping, yet continuing on a similar tangent: My guest is all about aged and/or organic tea. So upon hearing about the type of tea that we proceeded to enjoy, he became much more noticeably appreciative of its quality. He is of the conviction that organic aged tea is distinctly different in its composition and consequently its effect on the person drinking it. This is not just an observation in his relationship to tea. It is a central tenet of his livelihood.
He is of the school of “Cha Dao” – basically a spiritual path that is devoted to cultivating an understanding of the transformative and healing nature of tea. While I personally have not pursued such an overt acknowledgment of the secret powers of tea, I was interested to meet someone who is embodying a more defined shamanistic role in relation to leaf that I live for. Another way of describing this class of tea lover is that of the purist. From the stories my new friend related, there evidently is a very small population of folks around the globe who continue to carry on the traditions that have roots in Taoist and Buddhist lineages.
Most of these folks seem to find Pu-er tea to be the leaf of choice. Without going into detail about the rich history and complex character of this leaf, I deem their attraction to lie in the fact that this is one of the most “pre-modern” teas to be had. Quality Pu-er is reputed to be harvested from wild tea trees in southwest China that predate any commercial methods of agriculture. In addition to this, a significant factor in assessing the quality of Pu-er is its age, i.e. how long it has been kept in proper storage after its production. My visitor explained how he experiences the effects of drinking aged tea to be quite different than fresh tea. In his perception, aged tea has a much more calming, soothing, and clarifying effect whereas fresh tea is often too stimulating and agitating for him. While I agree with his point regarding the varying effects of these teas, in my experience, it’s all about moderation. And with this point, I believe he also agrees. The other main aspect of his exclusive orientation toward aged teas is the absence of chemical additives. These folks that make tea into a religion are serious about their eucharist, to adopt the Christian nomenclature – although I personally much prefer the term “Blood of Buddha”. To this, for now, I will plead the 5th. It may well be a valid point, but much more pertinent is that fact that my world is far from pure. I fully respect the promotion of chemical-free agriculture. But in my experience of visiting tea farms and knowing the farmers and drinking copious amounts of their tea for more than fifteen years, I find no signs of this issue being a significant hazard.
As you may have noticed (if indeed you are still reading) that I tend to ramble when telling tea stories, and that I’ve yet to get around to buying tea… Well, following our mid-afternoon tea session in the home my closest tea friends, we proceeded to visit the home of an award-winning tea maker up near Phoenix Mountain. A fellow American ex-pat’s in-laws introduced me to this farmer from whom they have been buying for 30 years. His tea has repeatedly ranked among the top ten, including first place, in local competitions that are comprised of up to 5,000 entries. But other than the complimentary award plaques on the walls of his dimly lit, old farmhouse style tea factory – there is no sign of such status. This stands in stark contrast to the pretentious houses, cars, and personalities of other award-winning tea farmers that I have met over the years. This guy is strictly roots, and everything I’ve perceived about him so far represents this.
I met him a year ago and bought winter tea then, followed by spring tea, and now winter again. But this visit was a wholly new level of connection. The previous visits involved crowded scenes of family and guests where I was the foreign anomaly that amused the locals with my interest in tea (been there done that a thousand times in varying contexts). This time I pulled up outside his house as he walked out of the adjacent building that housed his tea factory. He was the only one around, and was tasting some freshly roasted winter tea, carefully assessing its qualities to determine how to proceed in further roasting to bring out its full potential. Just a few standard white porcelain tasting cups, bowls and spoons on a very weatherrd drain tray and an electric kettle under exposed wooden rafters built on a worn concrete foundation. We sat on plastic stools in a temple of my liking.
Fuck the falderal of fancy wares and pretty clothes and sophisticated art. Fuck the poser mannerisms and thinly veiled pretense comprised of petty book-learned wisdom sans weathered faces and leathered hands and world-wearied vibes. Fuck all the concepts about what some oh-so-subtly- sensitive bitches in robes experience in their fabricated fairy dollhouses as they sip tea and unconsciously strive to get over on some sorry ass maladjusted spiritual seekers that show up with cash to trade for something meaningful. Pardon my sentiments getting reduced into ghetto expression, but after all this word, I guess I just want to get to the point.
This is the heart and soul of tea culture. This humble farmer who has worked his ass off for decades to become what he is. He fuckin cleared mountainsides and planted tea trees and dealt with typhoons and fungi and everything else that gets in the way(and hence is an integral part) of making something beautiful. He created the substance that gives existence to the entire world of tea. In short, this is where all my respect and reverence is given – to the makers of tea. I personally have no need for any city slicker entrepreneurs or temple dwelling posers – although I readily acknowledge their place in the overall scheme of things. But I just want hang with the farmers.
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