Sampling pu-erh.sk: ManZhuan 2013

Today I had something like a tasting. Not quite, as I am still harbouring a cold, coughing and sneezing with only a very limited sense of taste or smell. Yet I felt like sitting down and experiencing a new tea - even if I had to concentrate on other impressions than taste or smell.
Heute hatte ich fast so etwas wie eine Verkostung. Nicht ganz, denn ich schleppe eine beharrliche Erkältung mit mir rum, die mich husten und schniefen lässt. So sind meine Möglichkeiten zu schmecken und zu riechen sehr eingeschränkt. Trotzdem hatte ich Lust, einen neuen Tee zu erleben - auch wenn ich mich mehr auf andere Eindrücke als Geschmack oder Duft verlassen musste.

The tea I picked is a very young one: ManZhuan 2013. Manzhuan is one of the traditional Six Famous Tea Mountains, it is situated between Yiwu and Gedeng in eastern Xishuangbanna. A good collection of Yunnans tea mountains can be found here on Teachat.com.
Der Tee der Wahl is ein sehr junger: ManZhuan 2013. Manzhuan ist einer der traditionellen Sechs Berühmten Teeberge und liegt zwischen Yiwu und Gedeng im östlichen Xishuangbanne. Eine gute Sammlung von Karten der Teeberge Yunnans findet man hier auf Teachat.com.

The cold has not affected my eyes, so I could fully enjoy the beautiful, healthy looking leaves. A good silvery shine to the dark green leaves and an aroma (well, okay, I couldn't keep my rather congested nose from sniffing) which reminded me of an unusual Longjing green tea.
Die Erkältung hat nicht meine Augen getrübt, also konnte ich die schönen, gesund aussehenden Blätter bewundern. Ein silbriger Schimmer auf den Blättern und ein Duft (ja okay, dann konnte ich eben doch nicht meine verstopfte Nase von den Blättern fern halten) der mich an ungewöhnlichen Longjing Grüntee erinnert.

Thinking of Longjing (and following the line of thought that very young sheng is similar to green tea) I chose to brew this Manzhuan like a green tea: using fewer leaves, water which had cooled down a little and extended infusion times.
An Logjing erinnert (und der Ansicht folgend, dass ganz junge Sheng wie Grüntees sind), entschied ich mich für eine Zubereitungweise wie bei einem Grüntee: weniger Teeblätter, Wasser unter dem Siedepunkt und längere Ziehzeiten.

The first infusion really turned out somewhat flowery like a green tea - as far as my limited impression of taste went. But there was so much more: a tingling feeling in my mouth, lingering long after the tea was swollowed. And an increased awareness of the blood pulsing through my body. Over the next infusions something else happened: my nose opened up - an effect caused by gushu leaves.
Der erste Aufguss erschien dann wirklich etwas blumig wie ein Grüntee - soweit mein begrenztes Schmecken es erkennen ließ. Aber da war noch so viel mehr: ein prickelndes Gefühl im Mund, das noch lange nach dem Schlucken verblieb. Und eine gesteigerte Wahrnehmung davon, wie das Blut in meinem ganzen Körper pulsierte. Über die nächsten Aufgüsse geschah noch mehr: meine Nasenatmung wurde freier (ein Abschwellen der Schleimhäute) - so reagiere ich auf gushu Blätter, also Tee von alten Bäumen.

During later infusions I found the taste (or at least my impression of it) to turn from flowery, fresh hay to sweet mushrooms, displaying more orthodox sheng flavours. While I can't say anything about the aftertaste, the sheer force of the tea was amazing. The gushu nose, awareness blood pulsing through my body ... yes sir! This is truly well done sheng, not just some "near  Longjing".
Während späterer Aufgüsse fand ich den Geschmack (oder zumindest das, was ich davon wahrnehmen konnte) im Wandel von blumigem, frischem Heu zu süßen Pilzen, also im typischen Sheng Spektrum. Obwohl ich nichts über Nachgeschmack sagen kann, war die schiere Kraft des Tees wirklich beeindruckend. Der Gushu-Naseneffekt, die gesteigerte Wahrnehmung des Pulses im ganzen Körper ... jawoll! Das ist wirklich gut gemachter Sheng, nicht nur ein "fast Longjing".

Sorry, awfully blotchy. In reality the leaves looked great

What I made of it tastewise (at my currently limited abilities) was nothing too exiting and definitely far too young for my liking. But apart from fragrance and flavour there were truly good sheng qualities. Yes, even if you can't rely on your olfactory or gustatory system (nerdy choice of words?), it is still possible to appreciate high quality sheng. Perhaps even better than under conditions where individual preferences in taste might tell you otherwise.
Was ich vom Geschmack (sofern er durchkam) hielt, war nicht so aufregend und vor allem viel zu jung für meine aktuellen Vorlieben. Aber unabhängig von Duft und Geschmack zeigt der Tee wahrlich gute Sheng-Qualitäten. Ja, selbst wenn man sich nicht auf Geruchs- und Geschmackssinn verlassen kann, kann man immernoch guten Sheng zu schätzen wissen. Vielleicht sogar unter Umständen besser, wenn subjektive geschmackliche Präferenzen einen nicht ablenken.

Almost midnight - Happy New Year!
Beinahe Mitternacht - Guten Rutsch!

Durch die Sheng-Galaxie, per Anhalter

Es wird Zeit, dass ich mal ein paar Überlegungen loswerde, die nach wohlwollende Meinung philosophisch genannt werden können.  Mein Standard-Referenzwerk zur Philosophie ist seit Jahrzehnten die 5bändige Trilogie "The Hitchhiker's Guide to the Univers" von Douglas Adams. Wer das Werk kennt holt jetzt schonmal das Handtuch. Wer es nicht kennt, sollte den DON'T PANIC Button beachten und mal bei Tante Wiki reinschauen.

Nun aber zum Thema Sheng. Ein sehr netter Neuzugang im Forum TeeTalk.de hat mich gefragt, wie er denn mal einen Einstieg ins Thema Puer finden könne. In meiner Antwort (etwas länger als ein Zweizeiler) schrieb ich Empfehlungen zu einzelnen Sorten und Zubereitungsweisen. Als ich das abgeschickt hatte, kam ich ins Grübeln.
Wenn ihm das jetzt nicht schmeckt?
Wenn er jetzt nicht genug über die Herkunftsregionen kennt, um sich über die Typischkeit zu freuen?
Wenn er jetzt enttäuscht ist, weil er einfach nicht auf den Nachhall achtet?

Letztlich die Frage: ist er schon genug in der esoterischen Lehre unserer elitären Sheng-Galaxie vorangeschritten, um den Tee entsprechend zu würdigen?

Im Dezember habe ich in unserem Bonner Fachgeschäft Tee verkauft. Ich würde mal tippen, dass 99, 8% der ganz normalen Teekunden völlig pfeifen würden auf huigan, gushu oder chaqi. Denn: ist ein Tee etwa nur dann ein guter Tee, wenn er mir erst nach
monatelangem Studium der esoterischen Sheng-Lehre gefällt?

Um jetzt mal zum Werk von Douglas Adams den Bogen zu schlagen (leider habe ich gerade das Buch nicht zur Hand für ein exaktes Zitat): Es gibt wohl auf dem Planeten Magratea (wo ja auch unsere Erde gebaut wurde) eine riesige dunkle Halle, in die alle neuen Präsidenten geführt werden. In dieser riesigen Halle ist Nichts bis auf ein einziges Stück Erdbeerkuchen. Normalerweise versinnbildlicht dieser Kontrast zwischen riesiger Halle und kleinem Kuchenstück, wie unbedeutend das Individuum für das Universum ist. Bis Zaphod Beeblebrox nach seiner Wahl in die Halle kommt, umherirrt, das Kuchenstück findet ... und es isst.

Sollten wir Shengtrinker nicht auch wie Expräsident Beeblebrox einfach auf das ganze Drumherum pfeifen und den Tee bloß trinken?




Eigentlich gefällt mir der Ansatz. Aber andererseits macht es mir auch Spaß,  die große Blogwelt zu durchforsten und auch verschrifteten Tee mit den Augen zu schlürfen.

Chenshi Chinatee: Mengku Daxueshan 2006

Before we get to the English version: 

Einen deutschsprachigen Bericht zu diesem Tee habe ich im Forum www.teetalk.de hier veröffentlicht.

There are days which are great, cause you've got good tea. And there are days on which you need TGT (Truly Good Tea) to ballance out all the rest. Thanks to the new compensation policy of Deutsche Bahn (our national railway service), I could afford to buy a TGT right when it hit the (virtual) shelves at Chenshi Chinatee (link to procuct in shop).

Here it is:

Truth be told: this is in the Himalayas, not THE Daxueshan in Lincang, Yunnan

"Daxueshan" - "Big Snowmountain" is a name which feels like home to me. The first Sheng I ever tasted from a reliable source of young Sheng Puer was William's Daxueshan of 2010 vintage. That tea instantly won me over for Lincang teas.

What is it like to revisit that mountain of fond memories with a tea from a different producer (Shuangjiang Mengku) and another vintage? I have thoroughly tested this one in different sessions and I will publish my notes from a session at which I took some photographs. But to make this clear from the start: whether I brew it in a gaiwan while watching TV or I do a blog-worthy session with my zisha teapot ... this is TGT which always stays true to its character.

Let's get started with my notes from the recorded session.

 
Dry leaves look biggish, darkbrown with some coppery-golden tips, a few stalks and even some of the yellow flakes (huang pian). The preheated pot gets filled with a fragrance of ... well ... storage! That delightful aroma of antique furniture, ancient libraries(and some dark basement) is paired nicely with the fragrance of brown sugar. Basement and sugar remind me of caramelised potatoes - a wonderful side dish in wintertime I remember from my youth in Denmark.

When sniffing the rinsed leaves my nose barely detects a fruity note, but that is far too fleeting for me to pin down. Predominantly I get impressions of basement furniture, sugar and butter.

Infusion #1 yields a cup of purest orange colour. The first few sips surprise me by their concise and refreshing acidity (pleasant!). As the tea cools in my cup, the taste turns to the Gunpowder-like character which I can not describe by any other expression than 'camellia flavour'. Through all of this there shines the clear freshness which I have come to attribute to Daxueshan. Instead of an aftertaste there is an 'afterfeeling': a lively pulsing in the mouth.

Infusion #2puts more emphasis on the taste of storage. But beneath the storage there is a clear impression of camellia with some slightly sour freshness. But that sour impression is soon washed away by the sweetness of brown sugar. After the tea is swallowed, sweet and sour tastes are replaced by a minty fresh aftertaste. As an afterfeeling, a minty cooling sensation pulses up and down my throat.

At infusion #5 I get the feeling that someone hase merged a Gunpowder green tea with Darjeeling Second Flush, smoothed off all edges and poured such a harmonious and rounded tea into my cup, delivering a good body and pronounced aftertaste.

From infusion #6 onward the tea's sweetness dominates the taste, ballanced by a good helping of that Daxueshan freshness. Along with that character of good storage it made me note "One of my best tea moments in 2013!"

Infusion #11 got 6 minutes of steeping time (by accident). Yet there was no astringency. The taste has become thin and watery but the mouthfeeling is wonderfully silken.

Infusion #13tastes like a rather bland white tea. But the aftertaste! Sweet mint with a good helping of antique furniture.

The spent leaves are far from spectacular. They show no sign of their grandeur.

Conclusion: this is T*G*T!
Storage in Guangzhou has given that cozy coat of mellowness to lend sweetness and an air of mystery to the clear, minty freshness of the Big Snow Mountain. I should have posted this review earlier, so you might have had a chance to order this tea for christmas, as it is just the right treat for the holidays.

Hope you have all got delicious teas to celebrate the season!

Sampling pu-erh.sk: Yiwu autumn 2012 and Bulang 2013

Blogging might be a source of additional income - if I would allow Google to place advertising banners amongst my ramblings. Well, I don't think I could become wealthy in a monetary way through these ramblings - but sometimes gracious benefactors send me samples I can write reviews on. Peter from pu-erh.sk contacted me some weeks ago, asking if I would be interested in sampling some of his teas and writing reviews about them. Who am I to resist such an offer?
Truth be told, we exchanged a few emails before the teas arrived. I offered to Peter the same terms I have offered before in exchange for a review of teas from a shop I haven't previously ordered from: when the review is written, I send it to the person providing the samples to ask if they place a veto. There will be no changes in my review (unless they find factual mistakes) - just the choice to accept the publication as it is or getting no review at all. Peter's reply to my offer of these terms was very straightforward: no censorship whatsoever! Okay Peter, you have asked for my honest opinion, so here it starts with the first two reviews. (The gracious Mr. pu-erh.sk sent me a total of 7 samples, which will be covered over several entries).

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even the bag looks nice with such a neet handwriting

The first sample I picked was a Yiwu, harvested in autumn 2012. Okay, autumn teas are typically considered inferior to their spring versions - yet on a cold and grey autumn day the highpitched characteristics many youngish spring teas offer were not the things I wanted to happen in my teacup. So the quietude of an autumn tea seemed to be a good idea.

The dry leaves look big and healthy. Several buds are included - ranging in colour from silver to copper. The bigger leaves pick up the autumn theme by blending colours of fallen foliage into the dark green predominating the look.

Once rinsed the leaves open up readily and present some stalks blended in - what a relief to my supersticious assumptions! (no proof for this credo, but I assume that bings bereft of all stalks are artsy fartsy pretties neglecting their historical roots in being an everyday commodity. They are devillish imposters mimicking true bings, but alighting my stomach with purgatory flames or giving me the boredom found only in the deepest of hells. Or, if you would take it without any meta physics: the Japanese aesthetic ideal of wabisabi is better met by allowing something as rustic as a stalk.) The wet leaves appear to be tinted slightly rusty - colours of autumn or signs of a production allowing slight oxidation to make the tea more accessable? The fragrance is surprisingly fruity: strong mango aroma with even some hints of roasted bell peppers. 

The first infusion tastes of mushrooms, mango and passion fruit. Well - at least those are the impressions I got. To most people it would propably taste like sheng puer with some hints of mushrooms and exotic fruits. The next issue in my notes might seem odd (which topic doesn't) to anyone outside my weird head: the tea's mouthfeel (not taste) makes me think of Darjeeling Second Flush. 

in case this your first time on my blog: the binary infusion counter shows infusion #4

Subsequent infusions lean more and more to the type of mushrooms and sweet hay, but the fruity sweetness doesn't disappear. At infusion 14 I called it quits and emptied the gaiwan. The reddish tint of the leaves (many beautiful set of '2 leaves and a bud') in combination with the fruity flavours have me convinced: this tea has been more or less oxidized on purpose.

Is the oxidation of maocha a bad thing? That depends - all my sources agree on a negative correlation between initial oxidation and the ability to age such a sheng successfully. But to me this is not a raw material needing to be aged, rather it seems to be a tea tailormade to win over tea drinkers sceptic of sheng: hardly any bitterness, sweet and fruity flavours, a mouthfeel which is not alien.
... or just the right tea for me to cuddle up on a rainy day with a good book and some Sibelius on the radio.

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And now the second sample, picked randomly by my dear wife:

 Fate made it a tea promising a bit of a rough ride: a 2013 Bulang. That area is considered the epitome of Bitter Tea. This year's harvest gives me no hopes of a mellowed character and the fact that this sample is taken from the spot of highest compression within the bing (its dimple or navel) screams at me to expect fragmented and torn leaves laden with astringency...
... a challenge I am eager to take on. Let's see if the tea will knock me out or I'll manage to wrestle it down.

Here is my life coverage of this fight:

Dry leaves: tightly compressed nugget from the bing's dimple. Hard to say anything about the leaf size in that extreme state of compression, but the many silvery downy parts speak of a high percentage of tips in the otherwise grey-green leaves. Is my opponent trying to mock me with that girlish show of tender silver locks?

The notion to rinse this tea twice crosses my mind. Might help to break open the nugget - but on the other hand that might be considered cowardice to rinse out initial bitterness. So it is just one rinse and that alone makes the nugget crumble. The hard fist of tea opens up into smallish leaves fragmented and reminding me of ... Bi Luo Chun. Even the fragrance screams of fresh green tea - fruity, fresh and light. Will I be robbed of my fight? To my nose that fragrance is like the white flag of surrender.

Do you know Aikido? The Japanese art of using your attackers force of aggression to best him. That is exactly what the first infusion does to me: with me coming braced to the battlefield, prepared to meet an opponent that strikes hard and fast ... I am instantly disarmed by a flowery sweetness and a mouthfeel like syrup. Mostly like fresh green tea, but with more body, presence and enduring mouthfeel than a Bi Luo Chun. An experience to make you dream of light spring clouds caressing the trees on Mount Bulang ...
... and then I sipped again of the cup which now contains a slightly cooled tea - now revealing the edge of Bulang Bitterness.

The second infusion is usually an awkward moment - at least to me. My mind has been set by the first introduction as I just can't seem to learn my lesson that a sheng practically never reveals its true nature in the first infusion. But then it comes - the tea releases more of its essence and reality clashes with assumptions based on rinse and first infusion. The same here: the syrup turns to chicken stock. Well, there might be something flowery in the background, but actually the soup has become savoury now. The cooled sip at the bottom of the cup tastes of licorice (yummy!) and the aroma found in the emptied cup is of that adult feminine type, which can be quite dear to some (such as me).

Some impressions I got over several infusions (3-6):
Full bodied, viscous mouthfeel and extreme bodyfeel (being alert of your bloodcirculation in each part of the body - tingly - alive and tippsy). Gushu material included? My nose detects the tell tale symptomps (sinuses opening, increased intake of oxygen). Reminding me of music which is not something I listen to very often but which fits the sensations very well:

Having arrived at infusion number eleven I have long since given up considering this as a battle  - it has become like a dance which invites you to surrender. Dancing like this, with the tea lulling you in, it is hard to focus on a precise description. Concerning taste and fragrance I have to resort to stereotypes like sweet hay, mushrooms and the usual sheng attributes with just the chicken stock to make it individual. But to me this tea is most definitely not about taste or fragrance. Neither is this one of the teas to drug me and conjure pictures from the past - I am 100% in the here and now, enjoying the tea undisturbed by old memories.
To me this tea is about feeling. Not smelling, not tasting - just feeling the tea filling your mouth with its thick soup, spreading warmth from your belly throughout you body with the blood pulsing from my toes to the scalp.
  A most pleasant tea - using the Bulang strength not for the typical bitterness, rather giving power to its body. My uneducated gut feeling makes me think this tea's heavy load of substance makes it well suited for ageing. Yet I don't trust in my skills and environmental conditions to age sheng successfully, so I'd rather not risk 48€ for a bing of 250g (equals 68,54€ for a standard bing of 357g) on this notion.

Aaw really - I shouldn't be doing this live! Infusion 12 is pure school book Bulang: sharp, precise bitterness to shake you up and then transorming into a sweet (slightly minty) aftertaste. An unexpected uppercut when I thought this fight was called off before it had even started. 

But still I stick to my conclusion: a most pleasant tea.

Thank you Peter - I am very much looking forward to tasting the other samples!

Yichang Hao Yiwu Wild Arbor 2000 + anonymer Shu

Wie oft schreibe ich von einer Verkostung und bin voll des Lobes für den Tee? Meist ist das der Fall oder ich kann zumindest einen Aspekt des Tees hervorheben, den ich als besonders erfreulich empfinde. Diesmal ist das anders - seit mehr als zwei Wochen warten meine Notizen einer Verkostung darau, hier veröffentlicht zu werden. Aber es fällt mir nicht leicht, weil mich jene Verkostung ziemlich enttäuscht hat.

Es geht um einen (für meine Verhältnisse) recht alten Sheng: vom Hersteller Changtai unter der Marke Yichang Hao hergestellt im Jahre 2000 unter Verwendung von Yiwu-Blättern. Diesen Tee habe ich als meinen ersten bewusst genossenen Sheng hier (click) auf TeeTalk.de beschrieben. Damals war ich völlig hingerissen von dem Tee - und als ich diesen August in München war, legte ich auch einen Besuch beim TeaHouse ein. Dort kaufte ich mir neben einem ganz herrlichen Wuyi Oolong (Rou Gui) auch 25g vom Yichang Hao Yiwu.

Bei diesem Stück handelt es sich um ein Teil aus der Nähe des "Nabels" des Bing - also eine enorm verdichtete Portion. Die Blätter sind im Übergang von Grün zu Braun und verströmen diesen Duft, der mir schon letztes Jahr aufgefallen ist: Teeladen mit dem Geruch aromatisierter Tees von "Japanische Kirsche" bis "Marzipan".


Ich hatte exakt 5g abgewogen und im 90ml Zisha-Kännchen gemacht, das eigentlich immer die kantigen Tees rundschleift und gefälliger macht. Auch habe ich mal (nach meinem großen Idol in Oxford) mit Duftbecher gearbeitet ... aber es hat alles nichts genutzt - ich konnte den Tee einfach nicht genießen. Aggressive Adstringenz, jede Menge Assam im Geschmack, aber auch etwas Pflaume ... und durch alles zieht sich eine gallige Säure. Sofort fiel mir dabei ein, was Jakub in seinem Blog "T" über extrem trocken gelagerte Sheng fortgeschrittenen Alters schreibt: unangenehm säuerlicher Charakter. Zu trockene Lagerung und die ganzen Fremdgerüche - schade, die letzten Jahre ist einiges schief gelaufen für diesen Tee. Ein Tee, der eigentlich Potenzial hat: ich merke deutlich die Power der Blätter. Eine geradezu berauschende, euphorisierende Wirkung, die den Verweis auf "Wild Arbor" wirklich glaubwürdig erscheinen lässt.

Nach 6 Aufgüssen ist mir der viel zu wuchtige und aggressive Tee so auf den Magen geschlagen, dass ich Hilfe brauchte - in solchen Fällen greife ich gerne zu einem guten Shu.
Ende Oktober hatte ich Glück: ich kam ins Büro und da stand ein Tong (Stapel von 7 Bing, klassisch in einer Bambusumhüllung) für mich. Darin waren 6 Bing (diese klassischen runden Kuchen à 357g) - einen Bing hatten unsere Tee-Einkäufer für sich behalten. Irgendwann Ende 2006 oder Anfang 2007 haben wir von einem chinesischen Lieferanten ein paar Tong von dem Tee geschenkt bekommen. Über die Jahre wurde der Tee als Kuriosum (Puerh spielt in unserem Sortiment nur ein winzige und versteckte Nebenrolle) verschenkt - nur der eine Tong blieb übrig. Bei einer Entrümpelungsaktion kam ein Bing ins Archiv und der restliche Tong zu dem einen verrückten Kollegen, der öffentlich zugibt, Komposttee zu mögen.

 

Nun, Shu ist wahrlich nicht meine große Liebe, aber dieser spezielle Tee hat was! Durch die lange Lagerung ist jeglicher Mief von Fischteich oder Komposthaufen verflogen - zurückgeblieben ist ein erdiger, weicher, samtiger Tee. Vollmundig aber geschmeidig und unkompliziert. Genau das, was meinen Magen wieder auf Vordermann bringt. Zwar habe ich keine Ahnung,woher der Tee kommt oder wer ihn verarbeitet hat - aber wirklich ein erfreulicher Tee!

Während ich hier endlich meine Gedanken zu den Tees ordne und niederschreibe, gebe ich dem Yichang Hao Yiwu noch eine Chance. Diesmal deutlich schwächer dosiert und im Porzellan-Gaiwan. Siehe da: der Tee ist geschmacklich milder - wie ein wässriger, leicht gesüßter Assam mit einem leichten Hauch Frucht. Dazu aber immernoch diese unterschwellige Kraft, die sich bei mir in ein Kribbeln durch den ganzen Körper wandelt. Also schonmal deutlich besser als in der letzten Session - aber für mich leidet der Tee an einem deftigen Reifedefizit. Wenn ich an den CNNP aus demselben Jahrgang denke (Blogeintrag vom 23.10.13) oder den 2003er Mengku von William oder der 2007er Douji Yiwu von Chris - das sind Tees welche so gelagert wurden, dass tatsächlich nach zu vollziehen ist, warum sich das Lagern von Sheng lohnt! Was hätte aus diesem Yichang Hao werden können, wenn er ein paar Jahre in Guangzhou oder Hongkong hätte verbringen dürfen?

old tea, old man and bad old world

Here I sit again at my tea table for the last session with a precious sample William graciously sent to me some while ago. Seems it is from his private stash, as I can't find it in his shop: "2000 CNNP" is all to be found on the sample's label.
Which factory has made this tea? Where have the leaves been picked to make this bing? Unanswered questions which might be nagging me at some other time, just not today.

Photographed at the first session - now the leaves are all use up

Today is an autumn day, the year is getting old and so my craving for aged tea has increased. Perhaps I should replace "aged" with "mature", as I once had a sample of a Xiaguan Tuocha from 2000, which had hardly any trace of age, while Chris' Douji Yiwu from 2007 felt much more mature. What I go for in a mature tea are storage charactistics (as a child I dreamed of becoming an archaeologist - so the smell of antiques in a basement holds some charms for me), mellowness on the stomach and ... (insert drum roll) ... replaying emotions from my past. Just like going through childhood photographs to bring back the face of your best friend at school, a mature tea can let me live through emotions or rather moods of my childhood or youth. I'll spare you for the moment - but will return to this point later in this post.

So here's this vaguely anonymus 2000 CNNP in my cup, on my tongue and on my mind. What does it taste like? Gosh, I was afraid you might ask me that question. The easy answer is: aged. Once again I sit with a tea which is far too emotional to be described by an analytical approach. When I exchanged a few lines with William on the aged tea samples he sent me, he was amazed by my evaluation - with me holding this tea much dearer than the 2003 Fengqing that he prefers. This disagreement is not about taste - rather about the strength of feeling, impression (some people might like to use the term chaqi, which I often avoid out of respect to the depth of meaning). What we have agreed upon: both teas' merits are mostly to be found in the feeling they give us, much more than in terms of flavour or taste. Though William might be about half my age, his puer expertise shines like a stage limelight compared to my dim candle. So I wonder: am I too untrained to detect the Fengqing's true grandeur?

Perhaps. Or perhaps the CNNP is just better suited to my water, equipment and brewing preferences. But honestly I think it is about the chords different teas strike. When I drink this 2000 CNNP, something inside of me resonates ... memories of my final months at highschool. To be more specific: of the quiet days we sparsely found between studying, exams and excessive parties (yes, even I was young back in the Eighties). Times when I was on the bus, riding home for the weekend for about an hour, listening endlessly to this masterpiece by New Model Army:

This blend of pensive tranquility, deep longing and intense energy ... exactly my cup of tea. Just like the 2000 CNNP. Some people might ask for a tea a bit more harmonious or perfectly smooth at the edges. But I don't want Donovan, I need New Model Army! So it is 2000 CNNP for me please.

Being at an age which does not promise a longer stretch of years ahead than what has passed already, I find myself looking back quite often. Some people get all sentimental and grieve for their youth gone by. But to quote Justin Sullivan (the voice of New Model Army): "Speaking personally, I think the older you get - the better it gets. Honestly!"
So true! I might have lost hair on my head to get lard on my hips, but I have discovered Puer tea and have glimpsed enough to know there are so many different teas to be tasted in the coming decades. The party nights of beer mixed with vermouth are dead and gone, but I'll continue enjoying songs by New Model Army like  "Bad Old World".
A version not found on Youtube but on their live album "Fuck Texas, Sing For Us" includes the above quote by Justin Sullivan. As long as I can't direct you to a shop to buy the 2000 CNNP, I highly recommand to get that album.

 If you have tried this tea but feel reminded of the custard cake at your cousin's wedding - please, this once I'd ask you kindly to not write that in the comments. To me this tea is not sweet and creamy and I want it to stay this way ... but who am I to ask you. There is absolutely no objectivitea in tea.

Teaory and Heresy

Short version:

Today I am enjoying a sample of "Early Spring Jade Dew Mengku Puer Cake 2010" - pried from a 400g bing of Sheng bought from Dragon Tea House by the most generous Klaus, who sent this sample to me. Now I enjoy this tea in a very relaxed manner. It is full bodied, satisfying and totally uncomplicated. Not the dazzling beauty to blow you away, but a good buddy.

 

Long version:

A little over one year ago I started my series of tea related ramblings by asking:
"Was ist Tee?" ("What is tea?" - at that time I couldn't imagine to reach readers outside Germany. During these 12 months I've learned more than half of my readers are from faraway places, so today's entry will be in English).

Well, I have tried to answer what tea is to me (or rather: what tea means to me). It is a deeply emotional experience. Sometimes the experience of a special fragrance or just tingling on my lips takes me back in time to childhood memories ... or I even feel a little like Indiana Jones, braving tangled jungles of sweet and bitter to unearth a hidden treasure at the bottom of my cup. The emotional aspect supports my thesis: there is no objectivity in tea.

Yet I use vocabulary like sheng, chaqi, kuwei, huigan and so on ... in the established manner of a (make-belief) scientist that wants to intimidate any layman, scaring of those who might ask questions which could prick the bubble of self importance. As all scientific rhubarb, these terms are based on axioms which have been widely recognized - else communication could not work, if no axioms where taken for granted. (Just imagine how difficult the tea bloggosphere would become, if 'sweet' was not considered a desirable attribute by our community).

But how valid are the foundations we have based our tea lore upon? Let me shake up things by a little heresy:
Yes, I do drink young Sheng just like a green tea from time to time! Grandpa style with hot water from a thermos well below boiling temperature!
Why can't I just follow orthodoxy to brew my Sheng every single time as Gongfucha?
Have I forsaken all hope of salvation?

Hardly so! I was reluctant to post this topic, as I just can't find the right source to quote on this - but according to my memory, the Chinese Tea Professor who established the system of green-white-yellow-blue-red-black tea categories (or at least gave this system its now widely accepted form) was active during the first half of the last century. Compared to the long history of Chinese tea culture, this might be considered a current trend ... how long will it last?

Let us try to go back in time to ages before the 6 Orthodox Colours were canonized. In the age of the Tea-Horse Road, tea from Yunnan was sent by caravans to Tibet and reached the Mongols. It is generally taken for granted (once again one of those axioms) that during these long caravan trecks green tea leaves have been transformed to fermented dark teas ('heicha' or black tea according to the 6 Colours), which is the Category into which Puer tea falls.  Looking at traditional tea preparation in Mongolia or Tibet, we find no evidence of these beverages having been consumed as Gongfucha. Turning our attention to the home of Puer tea, we find that the local people actually producing Puer tea for generations, follow yet another tradition of tea preparation, called Kao Cha.

So, Gongfucha has been a recent development in Puer tea preparation - just like the 6 Colour Categories. There was a time, when no one debated the merits or drawbacks of utilizing aroma cups ('wengxiangbei' to intimidate you once more with specific vocabulary) when brewing a tea from Mengku - just like there where days when a Gunpowder Tea was just that and a Long Jing Cha was just Dragon Well Tea and no one cared if they shared enough characteristics to be placed in the same category. Why should we follow something perceived as orthodoxy, if that tradition is merely a blink in the eye when compared to the long history of tea consumption?

Think about it.

And get back to setting up your Yixing tea pot and brew most of your Sheng as Gongfucha... if you like the idea of spending all your attention on the precious tea (like I do very often). Or measure of 12g of Sheng, infuse with 1 litre of water boiled and cooled to 90°C, wait for 2 minutes and then strain into another teapot. Or even roast the tea before grinding it to powder to be boiled with water and a pinch of salt. There is no wrong or right except for your enjoyment of the tea (and showing responsibility for the world we live in). All I would like you to do, is to question your tea preparation and all the assumptions from time to time.

Perhaps you might like to read what MarshalN has to say on really young Puer - thoughts along my line of heresy concerning the 6 Colous. Though I have to say that the final impuls for writing this post came from William (Monsieur Bannacha), who has truly transcended the categorization in colours to see the tea for what it really is: TEA!


To close this post with a question: can you imagine what this bunch of matches tries to express? (Hint: I can't help bragging)

Marathon Shu & Sprint Sheng

Heute fasse ich mal zwei Extreme Tees von Bannacha zusammen in einen Eintrag. Zwei komplett gegensätzliche Pole des Puer-Universums, die im Abstand zweier Tage getrunken deutlich machten, welche Welten zwischen den Tees liegen können ... und zwischen der Erwartung und der Realität.
Today I will write a post on two extremes in the tea range of Bannacha. Two opposing forces in the puer universe - when drunk within two days, these antagonists really punch you in the face with their diversity ... and knock out your expectations with a hefty cudgel of experience.

read on to find the relevance of this photograph / weiterlesen, um das Foto zu verstehen

Der erste der besagten Tees ist ein Athlet, der für die Dunkle Seite des Pus antritt - ein Shu namens Yi Zhan Chun. Ich trinke kaum Shu, aber wenn mein Magen bockt, greife ich viel eher zu Shu als zu Sheng. Also griff ich mir neulich Abend eine Probe, die William einer der letzten Lieferungen beigefügt hatte.
The first of the teas in question is an athlete representing the Dark Side of the Pu - a Shu called Yi Zhan Chun. I don't drink a lot of Shu, but when my stomach feels upset Shu wins over Sheng. So that one night I didn't feel all that well and grabbed a sample William had added to a previous shipment.

Okay, also Shu - klar, da wird mich wohl eine trübe aber weiche Tassenfüllung erwarten. Im Idealfall nussig, mit milchigem Mundgefühl und über 5-6 Aufgüsse zuverlässig konstant, dann wässrig. So dachte ich es mir zumindest, während ich meine vernachlässigte Shu-Kanne abstaubte und alles vorbereitete.
Well - a Shu will fill my cup with cloudy soup of the mellow kind. In good cases that nutty taste and milky mouthfeel will provide me with 5-6 reliable brews before it turns watery. Or so I thought while freeing my neglected shu pot of layers of dust.

Aber dann passierte es: die Tassenfüllung war klar und brilliant. Sie war nussig, nur etwas milchig. Was mich total verblüffte: über 10 Aufgüsse bot der Tee immerwieder neue Nuancen. Während meine Erwartungen nur einen kurzen Teeabend verhießen, bewies der Tee eine verblüffende Ausdauer - eine Marathonleistung!
But then it happened: the soup was brillantly clear. It was nutty, only slightly milky. What really amazed me: for ten infusions it kept delivering very nuanced brews. Where I expected it to give up after a short while, it kept going and going - a marathon runner!

Nun wenden wir uns dem zweiten Tee zu, dem Vertreter des Lichten und Hellen - dem 2012 Sheng namens Bang Jie. Aus Mengku (da verweise ich gerne auf meine noch frischen Schwärmereien zum Na Jiao hier) kommend verheißt der Tee eine gewisse Würze, doch durch das blutjunge Alter auch eine lebhafte Frische. Als Sheng ein Tee, der Komplexität und Abwechslungsreichtum über viele Aufgüsse verspricht.
Now let's take a look at the Champion of Light and Freshness - the 2012 Sheng by the name of Bang Jie. Hailing from Mengku (just recently represented here in all its splendour by the fantstic Na Jiao) this tea promises a hearty cup yet the extreme youth will surely lend a vibrant freshness. Being a Sheng it leads me to expect layers over layers of complexity to be revealed over the course of many infusions.

Und ja - was für ein herausragender Tee! Die ersten Aufgüsse brachten Erinnerungen zurück an einen wunderschönen Urlaub, den wir vor ein paar Jahren in Frankreich hatten. Ein sonniger Oktober mit Morgennebel, der im Tal der Dordogne wogte, während darüber die Burg gegenüber unserer Schlafzimmerfenster vom Licht der aufgehenden Sonne beleuchtet wurde. Gekochte Maronen (im Garten gesammelt) gab es als Vorspeise zu jedem Abendessen des Urlaubs ... und im Geschmack der ersten Aufgüsse beim Bang Jie.
And yes - it did shine! The first infusion brought back memories from a wonderfull holiday we had in France some years back. A sunny October with morning fogs rolling in the Dordogne Valley while above the Castle opposite our bedroom windows was highlighted by the rising sun. Cooked chestnuts (gathered in the garden) for starters with every dinner during that vacation ... found again in the taste of the first infusions of this Bang Jie.

Okay, this is where the photograph of Castelnaud la Chapelle fits in
Okay, an dieser Stelle macht das Foto von Castelnau la Chapelle Sinn

Doch was geschieht plötzlich? Nur 4 Aufgüsse und der Tee lässt nach. Beim sechsten Aufguss will ich fast aufgeben aber kämpfe weiter bis zum 11. Aufguss. Kein Trick meines Repertoires kann den Blättern nach einer Handvoll Aufgüsse noch Lebendigkeit entringen. Nach dem fulminanten Start hat sich der Tee schnell verausgabt - er ist wohl der geborene Sprinter.
Gosh, what's happening with this tea? After only 4 infusions its performance drops drastically. At infusion number 6 I consider giving up on this tea, but I keep struggling on until ending the session with infusion number 11. Nothing I could think of brought this tea back to life in the later infusions. After the fabulous start this tea was totally exhausted - truly a sprint runner.

Ein Shu der lange komplex bleibt und ein Sheng, der schnell in die Beliebigkeit abstürzt - damit hatte ich nicht gerechnet! Zur Ehrenrettung des Sheng muss ich sagen, dass die ersten Aufgüsse wirklich bezaubernd waren. Wenn man also keine Zeit für eine lange Session hat, ist der Bang Jie eine gute Wahl.
A Shu of lasting complexity and a Sheng which early on drops into blandness - not what I usually expect! In defence of the Sheng I have to point out that the first infusions were truly charming. So if you can only spare little time for a tea session, the Bang Jie is a good choice.

spent but beautiful

Chenshi Chinatee: 2007 Douji Yiwushan

Diesmal ohne Katze ... dafür mit Yiwu und The Who.
Schon vor einiger Zeit hat mir Teefreund Chris (Mr. Chenshi Chinatee) eine Probe des 2007er Douji Yiwushan geschickt (Link zum Produkt in seinem Shop).
This post will be without the cat ... instead it will feature Yiwu and The Who!
Some time ago my teafriend Chris (Mr. Chenshi Chinatee) sent me a sample of a 2007 Douji Yiwushan (link to this tea in his shop).

 Einerseits hatte ich etwas Muffesausen vor diesem Tee (teuerster Sheng bei Chris) - andererseits war ich skeptisch, weil Yiwu so eine Moderegion wurde, dass ich nicht so ganz auf die Preiswürdigkeit vertrauen mochte.
On one hand I was nervous, as this is Chris' most expensive Sheng - on the other hand the hyped Yiwu provenance made me doubt the worth behind the price.

Okay, das ist jetzt die Stelle, wo normalerweise meine ausufernde Beschreibung von Blättern, Duft und Geschmack losgeht. Aber nicht diesmal, nur ein kurzes Zitat aus meinen Originalnotizen:
"Aaaaa ... Welt bleib draußen, in dieser Tasse ist alles was ich brauche. Erscheint mir wie ein Frevel, diese Freude in Einzeleindrücke zu sezieren!"
All right, this is the point where I usually start rambling for ages about leaves, fragrance and flavour. But not this time, just a short quote from my notes I jotted down during the session:
"Aaaaa ... nothing else is needed while this tea is in my cup. Seems sacrilegious to dissect this Pleasure into discrete impressions!"

 

Unglaublich, aber wahr - der Tee hat mich sprachlos gemacht. Ich lehnte mich zurück, genoss den Tee und fühlte mich, wie wenn ich mein Lieblingslied von The Who höre.

Unbelievable, but true - this tea left me speechless. I sat back, enjoyed the tea and felt just like I do when listening to my favourite song by The Who.

 

Was für ein Tee!

What a tea!