Tag Archives: Porcelain

EXCLUSIVE: History in a Bowl of Tea: Tea in the Ming & Qing Period

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Beloved readers of Scotttea,

I’m excited to share the full video of Wednesday, July, 18th’s tea talk and interactive workshop “History in a Bowl of Tea: Tea in the Ming and Qing Period” (1368-1912). Held at Floating Mountain Tea House in Manhattan’s Upper West Side, this event is part three of an ongoing series covering the history of tea, from its development as a folk medicine over 6000 years ago into the beverage we love today.

In this event, we discussed how the loose leaf teas have their origins in the monumental shifts that marked the period of the Ming in Qing, from experimentation in oxidation and pan-frying to inventive brewing techniques and international trade. We explored the impact scholars, poets, emperors, and artisans had on tea art and the development of gong fu cha (literally the “skill and challenge of brewing tea”). And we examined antique teawares from the Ming and Qing period and learn about the evolution of tea brewing, from teabowl to gaiwan to Yixing teapot.

This event included tea tastings of China’s famous teas accompanied by step-by-step demonstrations of Ming and Qing period tea preparation. Below, as a supplement to the almost three-hour long video, I’ve provided a listing of the contents of the presentation (featured in the first half of the lecture), as well as a list of the teas brewed (and how they were prepared).

“History in a Bowl of Tea: Tea in the Ming & Qing Period”

Link to video

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Above is just a fraction of what is included in the 30+ slide presentation. Topics discussed were as follows:

  • China Before the Ming Period Tea in the Song & Yuan Period
  • China in the Ming Period
    • Tea in the Ming
    • Famous Kilns
    • Tea Technology: Gaiwan, Kettles, Braziers, Teapots
    • Tea and Globalization in the Ming
  • China in the Qing Period
    • Tea in the Qing
    • Tea Production Art & Craft of the Qing
    • Gong Fu Cha Tea Culture in the Qing and in the World

Teas tasted:

1st Tea: 2014 南糯山生普洱 Nán nuò shān shēng pǔ’ěr, Xishuangbanna, Yunnan, China (brewed in contemporary reproduction of Ming period Yixing gaiwan)

2nd Tea: 水仙 Shuǐxiān “Water Immortal” Wuyi Mountain yancha oolong, Wuyishan, Fujian, China (brewed in a early 2000s fang-gu-shape Yixing teapot)

3rd Tea: 八仙 Bāxiān “Eight Immortals” Phoenix Mountain dan cong oolong, Chaozhou, Guangdong, China (brewed in a 1990s shui ping hu-shape Yixing teapot)

4th Tea: 正山小種 Zhèng shān xiǎo zhǒng, Lapsang Souchong, Wuyishan, Fujian, China (brewed in a contemporary Jun-yao-glazed teapot)

5th Tea: Charcoal-roasted 鐵觀音 Tiě guānyīn “Iron Goddess of Mercy” Anxi-style oolong, Nantou, Taiwan (brewed in 19th century-early 20th century Si Ting Hu-shape Yixing teapot)

6th Tea: 野生大葉白茶 Yěshēng dàyè báichá Wild “Big Leaf” White Tea, Fuding, Fujian, China (brewed in contemporary Qing-shape Jingdezhen white porcelain gaiwan)

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Look out for more tea talks and workshops soon to be added to this blog. I regularly present and moderate at museums, universities, tea houses, cultural centers, etc. For speaking inquiries, feel free to reach out to scotttea888 (at) gmail.com.

 

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Filed under Ceramics, China, Education, Green Tea, History, Hongcha, Japan, Korea, Matcha, Oolong, Pu-erh, Sencha, Tea, Tea Tasting, Vietnam, White Tea, Yellow Tea

EXCLUSIVE: All About Green, Yellow & White Tea

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Dearly Beloved Readers of Scotttea,

I am excited to share with you the tasting notes and LIVE video feed from my most recent tea talk and interactive workshop “All About Green, Yellow & White Tea”. Held in the intimate confines of Floating Mountain Tea House in Manhattan’s Upper West Side, this tea gathering offered participants a “three hour tour” (literally three hours) of green, yellow and white teas from all over China, Korea and Japan. Beyond being a highly-caffeinated evening, the tea talk and workshop was also highly-immersive, as I offered up my tips and quips on tea history, production, and brewing styles.

Needless to say, I am forever grateful to both Floating Mountain Tea House and to the folks who attended and made this memorable evening happen. For all those who could not attend, I offer to you now, in all its glory, the full video and tea tasting lineup from “All About Green, Yellow & White Tea”!

“All About Green, Yellow & White Tea” (Link to video)

Teas Tasted:

1st Tea: Spring 2018 蒙頂甘露 Méngdǐng Gānlù, Meng Ding Shan, Sichuan
2nd Tea: Spring 2918 西湖龍井茶 Xīhú Lóngjǐng Chá, Hangzhou, Zhejiang
3rd Tea: Spring 2018 六安瓜片 Lù’ān Guāpiàn, Liu An, Anhui
4th Tea: Spring 2018 太平猴魁 Tài Píng Hóu Kuí, Hou Gang Village, Anhui
5th Tea: Spring 2018 야세작 Wild Sejak, Hwagae, South Korea
6th Tea: Spring 2018 かぶせ煎茶 Kabuse Sencha, Nara, Japan
7th Tea: Spring 2018 蒙頂黃芽 Méng dǐng huáng yá, Meng Ding Shan, Sichuan
8th Tea: 2000s 老單芽黃茶 Lǎo Dān Yá Huáng Chá, Yunnan or Sichuan
9th Tea: 2017-2018 芽寶 Yá bǎo, Nannuoshan, Yunnan
10th Tea: 2014 白牡丹茶餅 Bái mǔdān chá bǐng, Fuding, Fujian

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Filed under Ceramics, China, Education, Green Tea, History, Japan, Korea, Sencha, Tea, Tea Tasting, White Tea, Yellow Tea

A Gift From Time

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Getting ready for tonight’s tea talk and workshop “All About Green, Yellow & White Tea” at Floating Mountain​ Tea House in Manhattan resulted in me finding a sealed canister of an early 2000s 單芽黃茶 (Dān Yá Huáng Chá, literally “Single Bud Yellow Tea”), most likely produced from the tea farms around Pu’er in Yunnan or Meng Ding Shan in Sichuan.

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The tea leaves, which hadn’t see the light of day for over a decade, still had a green and golden hue. They offered a light fragrance of fresh almonds and fall leaves. Upon the first infusion within a white porcelain gaiwan, the tea woke up from its long and gentle slumber, expressing subtle flavors of sweet sugar cane, rose water, and dried apricots.

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Yellow tea (黃茶 huáng chá), unlike green tea, is a bit unusual as it will receive a moderate level of oxidation during what is usually a very labor intensive process. As is the case with many teas, each type of yellow tea has its own very specific processing method. Some yellow teas, like 君山銀針 (Jūn Shān Yín Zhēn, literally “Jun Mountain Silver Needle”) will go through an initial drying (often in shade), a low-heat pan frying (lower than green tea so as not to fully halt enzymatic oxidation), and controlled oxidation, which often involves wrapping the tea leaves in paper to promote oxidation (蒙頂黃芽, Méng Dǐng Huáng Yá , “Meng Ding Yellow Bud” also uses this paper-wrapping method). The tea is then “finished” by a low-heat roasting. Other yellow teas, like 莫干黄芽 (Mò gàn huáng yá, “Mo Gan Yellow Bud”) are processed using full-sun drying and quick, high-heat pan frying, before being hand-kneaded and finished with indirect charcoal roasting.

The general result of these particular processing methods is a tea that is not as bright and grassy as a green tea (think flavors found in teas like 碧螺春 Bì Luó Chūn, 黄山毛峰 Huáng Shān Máo Fēng, or 龍井茶 Lóng Jǐng Chá), but is more floral and sometimes even raisin-like, akin to some oolong teas. However, given the diversity of leaf types used, the innate flavor given by the differences in climate and soil composition (“terroir”), and processing, each yellow tea ends up having its own distinctive flavor. While categorically smaller and less-known as other tea types, this makes yellow tea an interesting and exciting tea to explore.

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Although far more quiet than its fresh counterparts, this “re-discovered” aged yellow tea spoke volumes. Part history, part romance, drinking this tea both taught me about past production methods and reminded me of how tea was (and still is) a labor of love. How such attention to detail by an unknown “tea master” (the person who makes the tea), resulted in a tea that still has the ability to enchant a tea drinker after almost twenty years since it had been crafted is simply astonishing.

As I’ve said before, tea is a gift. As such, aged tea, such as this one, is a gift from time.

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Stay tuned tea blog readers, as I will be posting notes and video content from tonight’s tea talk and interactive workshop “All About Green, Yellow & White Tea” on the next blog post!

Stay thirsty, stay curious!

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Filed under Ceramics, China, Education, Green Tea, History, Oolong, Tea, Tea Tasting, Yellow Tea

Comparing the Flavor of Tea Can Lead to Greater Understanding

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This morning I was asked what book I might recommend to deepen one’s knowledge of tea. The answer I offered was to just drink tea. While not openly trying to emulate the Chan master Zhàozhōu Cōngshěn 趙州從諗 (778-897), who advised his students to “have a bowl of tea”, I was trying to point the person towards a form of understanding that comes only from direct experience.

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When one simply sits to drink tea, one can learn about the various factors that constitute a tea’s flavor. Weather, soil content, level and evenness of oxidation, even (and especially) the way the leaves were picked and processed will ultimately determine how a tea will taste. In the same way that the events of our own lives will affect our demeanor, our psychological bearing, or even our physical state, the life of a tea leaf can tell a story, even a history.

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Sitting down to brew a series of Wǔyíshān hóngchá (“red tea” from the Wuyi Mountains in Fujian), their “stories” were quite apparent. Between two varieties of 赤甘紅茶 (chì gān hóngchá, literally “red sweetness red tea”), the smaller leaves of the 小赤甘 (xiǎo chì gān, literally “small red sweetness”) were considerably sweeter and cleaner in flavor than those of its larger variation, the 大赤甘 (dà chì gān, or “large red sweetness”). Comparing these two teas to a traditionally-smoked 正山小種 (zhèng shān xiǎo zhǒng, Lapsang Souchong), the tale these teas told were all together quite different.

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Processing played a major part in each of the teas’ distinctive flavor profiles. For the two chì gān hóngchá, the tea leaves were simply picked, withered, rolled, pan-fired, and rolled again before they were dried and made ready to enjoy. This rather orthodox processing helps these teas to retain their natural sweetness that develops through oxidation, revealing flavors akin to that of a baked apple and dried red dates. The smaller, tender leaves of the xiǎo chì gān, with their more delicate sugars, offered flavors that were sweeter and more complex than the larger leaves of the dà chì gān, which were considerably more tannic and floral, resulting in a subsequently drier mouthfeel.

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While the leaf type of the zhèng shān xiǎo zhǒng may have appeared to be superficially quite similar to the two chì gān hóngchá, the “finishing” of this tea transformed it into something that is remarkably different. Achieved through a process of slowly smoking the dried tea leaves over a smoldering pinewood ash pit over the course of several days, the tea leaves are imparted with the characteristic flavors dried longan and smokey pine resin. When done well, this processing adds a complex layering of smokiness, balancing the sweeter fruit notes that naturally occur in the tea leaves with an almost peat-like quality found in a fine Islay Scotch whisky. In the case of this particular tea, the interplay of these robust and subtle flavors remained from the first steeping all the way through the last, becoming lighter, sweeter, and more delicate with each subsequent brewing.

 

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In an approach like gong fu cha, one is able to examine the leaves of a tea, take in its aroma, sip and savor its liqueur. Through this process, rudimentary know-how is slowly gained and one’s abilities to better understand a tea are eventually developed. While this may take years, the “knowledge” gained through direct experience becomes something beyond words on a page or anecdotes shared between a teacher to a student. It becomes a flavor that lingers in your psyche, a memory embedded in your action. You can always open a book, but to be able to listen to what tea can tell you takes discipline, patience, and a curious mind.

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In response to being asked about what books, podcasts, and videos I  have enjoyed for learning about and expanding my knowledge on tea, I offer this short list to you, my beloved readers. While certainly not comprehensive, for those just beginning their journey in tea, it is a wonderful “first step”.

Enjoy!

Books

Baisa-ō , and Norman Waddell. The Old Tea Seller: Life and Zen Poetry in 18th Century Kyoto. Counterpoint, 2008. (Link)

Hirota, Dennis. Wind in the Pines: Classic Writings of the Way of Tea as a Buddhist Path. Asian Humanities Press, 1995. (Link)

Mair, Victor H., and Erling Hoh. The True History of Tea. Thames & Hudson, 2009. (Link)

Sadler, A. L. Cha-No-Yu: the Japanese Tea Ceremony. Tuttle, 2001. (Link)

Sanmi, Sasaki. Chado the Way of Tea: A Japanese Tea Master’s Almanac. Tuttle Publishing, 2011. (Link)

Sen Sōshitsu. The Japanese Way of Tea: from Its Origins in China to Sen Rikyū. Univ. of Hawaii Press, 2000. (Link)

Shigenori, Chikamastsu. Stories from a Tearoom Window: Lore and Legnds of the Japanese Tea Ceremony. Tuttle Publishing, 2011. (Link)

Yoo, Yang-Seok. The Book of Korean Tea: a Guide to the History, Culture and Philosophy of Korean Tea and the Tea Ceremony. The Myung Won Cultural Foundation, 2007. (Link)

Zhang, Jinghong. Puer Tea: Ancient Caravans and Urban Chic. University of Washington Press, 2014. (Link)

Podcasts

Chinese History Podcast – “History of Tea” by Laszlo Montgomery (Link to Part 1 of 10)

Talking Tea: Conversations About Tea and Tea Culture by Ken Cohen (Link to homepage)

Videos

<<茶,一片树叶的故事>> (“Tea, The Story of a Leaf”). CCTV, 2013. (Link to Episode 1 of 6, in Chinese)

Gong Fu Tea|chA by So Han Fan, YouTube channel Tea House Ghost (Link to Episode 1 of a continuing series)

 

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Filed under China, Education, Hongcha, Tea, Tea Tasting

Happy Interdependence Day

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When I was beginning my “training” in zen practice (sesshin, 接心, or also 摂心/攝心 literally “touching the heart-mind”) on a warm 4th of July years ago, a Buddhist friend of mine wished me a happy “Interdependence Day”. Slightly perplexed, he responded by noting that rather than celebrate our independence, our isolation from the world, it would make more sense to remind ourselves that we are never alone, nor completely dependent. Everything is connected and does, in part, rely upon one another to exist.

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Whether it’s a thought that arises or a great nation; something came before that allowed it to exist, and when it passes, it will transform into something else. In this vein, we are constantly shaped by our environment, not for better or for worse, but just naturally, without judgement (the judgement is extra).

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As I sit and ponder on this concept, I bring my thoughts towards tea. Paying homage to the concept of interdependence, I have chosen to make tea, a fine matcha, using a late 15th century Vietnamese teabowl decorated in the fashion made popular by the Ming court in China. The chasen (茶筅, tea whisk) and chashaku (茶杓, tea scoop) are both Japanese in origin, and the tea caddy, a cloisonné incense container, is 20th century Chinese.

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Motifs of flowers and butterflies are abundant, a fine reminder of cultures’ ability to constantly cross-pollinate, making the garden of the world more beautiful and giving it life.

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The teabowl, pulled from the famed 15th century Hội An wreck in the 1990s, revealed to the world a diversity of design and eclecticism of a past culture that rivals any contemporary civilization. The design, a with loose arabesque scroll and foliate motif culminates in a beautiful peony flow, blossoming in the center of the bowl.

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Painted in a cursory style, the flower is reminiscent of those favored in Ming China, the then-superpower of East Asia during the 15th century. However, the local touch shines through, shown in the distinctive grey-blue cobalt commonly used in Vietnam during this time. Pools of ferrous-colored purple bleed through, giving the image of the flower a depth and texture that is quintessentially of this period. The light circle around the image not only frames it but imparts a halo-like glow.

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The history of this teabowl does not end with its connection between Vietnam and Ming China of the 15th century. As tea, namely through the practice of tea ceremony (茶の湯, chanoyu), grew in popularity in Japan during the 16th century, this style of teaware became immensely popular with tea people.

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Favored for its elegant simplicity, Anam-yaki (安南焼, literally “Southern Peace ceramics” or “Vietnamese-ceramics”) was highly-collected by tea people of the late Muromachi and Edo periods, and highly-reproduced by Japanese artisans during the popularization of the tea ceremony. Unlike Chinese, Korean, or the native-produced chawan of Japan, Anam-yaki teabowls were a perfect balance of lightness, refinement, and rusticity that the masters of wabi-cha favored.

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The bright, electric-green foam of the fresh matcha contrasts against the clean, white interior of the Vietnamese teabowl, in a luminescent glow that seems to radiate outward. The deep concave of the bowl, too, adds to this, creating a striking shadow against the soft, dappled foam that rests within the chawan.

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After all the matcha has been enjoyed, the bowl empty and cleaned, one can turn it over to appreciate the dark “chocolate”-colored foot of the chawan. Yet another distinctive feature of Vietnamese teabowls, it showcases the nature of interdependence, that one culture can be influenced by another yet still celebrate that which makes their own culture unique.

In the mélange of an international history, the mixture of cultures creates a beautiful gumbo that produces inspiration, that produces art. In tea, there are no politics, just moments to appreciate one’s inter-connectedness. On this day, a happy Interdependence Day, let’s all celebrate in that.

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To all my readers of Scotttea, a blog begun by a son of immigrants, for a world of a thousand cultures, I offer this post in celebration of our interdependence. May we continue to remain strong in our diversity and love of inclusion, whether it be the simple inclusion of the occasional “matcha post” on an otherwise gong fu cha blog, or the inclusion of others into this global family. Let us not be defined by the borders on a map but by the boundlessness of our hearts.

My deepest thanks and continued gratitude to share with you.

 

 

 

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Filed under Ceramics, China, Education, Green Tea, History, Japan, Matcha, Tea, Vietnam

Brewing to the best of my abilities: Arranging Da Hong Pao tea leaves and the results

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(IMAGE: Each leaf of Da Hong Pao arranged by size to maximize their potential when fastidiously placed into the teapot)

Dear beloved blog readers,

We tea drinkers learn about tea from various sources. Now-a-days, one doesn’t need to spend much time to find an over abundance of information on tea. From tea blogs to tea shop websites to Youtube videos and all sorts of click-bait health claims that seem to engulf tea knowledge; for the tea drinker, the challenge today seems to be “what information” is valuable as they comb through the deluge of truths, half-truths, and skillfully-crafted marketing material.

As a tea drinker who began his journey before the Internet Age, I have tended to trust the guidance of a teacher and am a natural skeptic of that which I find online (I thank those who read this blog, but, seriously, find an actual person to talk about tea with… You’ll find it infinitely more engaging). As a result, my approach to tea has been shaped by my teachers; people who have dedicated their lives to the study and unwavering exploration of tea.

In around 2009 I began to learn about tea (specifically Chaozhou gong fu cha) from the San Francisco-based tea scholar (and excellent guqin master) David Wong at his then nascent Tranquil Resonance Studio. Working with a tea shop just down the hill in Chinatown and trying to survive the rigors of an attempted Masters/PhD in East Asian History at UC Berkeley, I entered David’s tutelage already “well-steeped” in tea. However, David’s approach to tea (and the path he would take me down) forced me to re-evaluate everything that I knew about the subject, redirecting me towards the historical source of gong fu cha and relying on knowledge of practices that had been handed-down from teacher-to-teacher, often absent from or only hinted at through the canonical texts in tea scholarship.

Along with making me recognize the irrelevance of time an temperature to tea (a topic I will most certainly write about), David exposed me to the importance the arrangement of tea leaves played on producing the perfect brew. Literally going though pounds of tea at his studio in order to get the right flavor, he showed me how the simple act of putting tea leaves into a teapot can have a lasting effect on the end result. From how the leaves are arranged to how the water hits the leaves to how the leaves expand and tumble in the teapot will all determine the flavors of the final brew. Part art and part science, to recognize this was and is the core to understanding the concept of “gong fu cha”.

So why arrange tea leaves? Who has time for that?

In what is probably the earliest mention of tea in a written text, the “Tong Yue (童约)”, written by Wang Bao in 59 BCE during the Western Han dynasty, the author mentions a contract with a servant in which said servant (who was specifically to come from the Bashu area, Sichuan province today, then one of the most prominent centers for tea) was to both procure and brew tea. Probably before this time, but certainly from this time onward, in China, for the well-heeled classes, brewing of tea was almost always done by a servant.

Tea Grinding, by Liu Songnian

(IMAGE: Grinding Tea Leaves by Southern Song dynasty artist Liu Songnain (1155-1218), National Palace Museum, Taipei)

Evidence of the role of the servant (whether a slave, an apprentice, or acolyte) can be seen in many painted depictions of tea gatherings. Tea, although consumed by figures central to these paintings, is brewed often off to the side. In this preparation space, one usually sees a kettle brewing (the look and function of which changes throughout the centuries) and brewing implements, from ewers to tea bowls, grinding stones to eventually teapots. It was in this side register, in a space often out-of-view from those drinking the tea, that the art of gong fu cha was diligently practiced.

Tasting Tea by Wen Zhengming

(IMAGE: Tasting Tea by Ming dynasty artist Wen Zhengming (1470-1559), National Palace Museum, Taipei)

Given the amount of time and attention paid to the preparation, the leaves would have definitely been dealt with a great deal of care (as evidenced through the volumes of texts dedicated to them and their brewing). As tea brewing practices shifted from grinding tea bricks and whipping the powder into a foamy brew (still done in Japanese tea ceremony with matcha or enjoyed in Korea via malcha) to brewing the actual full leaves from the Ming dynasty onward, how one arranged one’s tea leaves in the brewing vessel became more important. Concurrent to this was the explosion of different varieties of tea that were becoming popular, ranging from the various twisted Wuyi yancha (that had become popular by the Song dynasty) to the rolled Tiekuanyin oolong, flattened Longjing green tea, and diverse forms of pu-erh teas (many of which would only become widely popular towards the late Ming and Qing dynasties). With each tea form came a new challenge as each tea leaf would unravel and expand in its own way. Thus came a need to address how one would arrange the leaves to produce the very best brew.

Brewing the “BEST” Da Hong Pao

As a tea drinker, I began to enjoy really fine Wuyi yancha when I was in college. By this point I was already a drinker of many teas, including pu-erh, hongcha (“red tea”, the Chinese name for what is known as black tea in the West), and all sorts of green teas. I even had a dedicated yixing teapot for my favorite tea at that time: Lishan high mountain oolong. Happening upon the Wuyi rock teas (“yancha”) introduced me to new flavors and a new challenge.

With a yancha, the leaves are twisted (an older style of crafting a tea leaf). Because of this, the vessel required to brew them should be flatter since leaves like this will want to expand outward (think of a spring uncurling horizontally). For this reason, yancha can be brewed best in squatter-shaped teapots and gaiwan. When it came time for me to decide upon a teapot for Wuyi yancha, I first chose a low-draft, pear-shaped pot. When I eventually began to specialize in more particular teas in this category, I chose a fang-gu (“仿古”, “ancient shaped”) teapot for the famed Da Hong Pao (“大红袍”, “Big Red Robe”).

As noted, the shape of this teapot is well-suited for this tea: its squat, wide, and the mouth of the teapot (the opening where both the tea leaves and water enter) is wide enough to accommodate the often large tea leaves of the famous tea. Likewise, in the case of this teapot, the clay is thick enough to keep the temperature relatively high (as Da Hong Pao tends to want a higher heat sustained for a longer time).

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(IMAGE: Delicately arranging each leaf of Da Hong Pao with a pair of chopsticks)

When arranging these leaves it is important to keep them horizontal, so as to take advantage of the shape of the pot. In the case of today’s brewing, I tediously sorted every leaf used, arranging them on a cloth from largest to smallest (choosing not to use some of the very smallest of leaves… sorry small leaves… I promise I’ll use you later). After this, I used a pair of pointed chopsticks to arrange the leaves in the teapot (I had pre-warmed the teapot for those who are curious to know).

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(IMAGE: The “pattern” produced by each leaf carefully arranged one on top on another)

The arranging of the tea leaves was an incredibly mindful act. Each leaf was stacked in a way to ensure they opened to create a weave-like network, allowing each their own space and making sure not to create points where leaves above would limit the expansion of those below. The resulting “pattern” was similar to something like a game of Jenga, with layers of leaves above placed perpendicular to those below (with slight variation at times given the natural irregularity of the leaves).

To be specific, the tea was a purported Qi Dan Da Hong Pao (奇丹大紅袍), a Da Hong Pao that is certified to have come from the original location of cultivation within the Wuyi natural preserve in Fujian Provence. The water used was a filtered and boiled New York City-available tap (being very honest here). The result was exquisite.

The flavor was what I wanted in a Da Hong Pao. Only slightly roasty, no hint of charcoal like most modern interpretations of this tea. Spicy but also floral, with notes of sandalwood, carob, and something akin to rose water. What stood out most of all was how thick the mouth feel on this tea was. The finish lasted for hours!

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(IMAGE: The final result: a beautiful brew of Da Hong Pao enjoyed in a Meiji-period blue-and-white teacup)

Having had this tea under less-fastidious means, I could easily note the marked difference that the leaf arranging had on the brewing. Looking into the teapot revealed the truth behind this: the leaves were evenly unfurled, curling and untwisting at the same rate. In taste, this meant no sour or bitter notes, just a clean and direct flavor that was both complex and distinct. Prepared this way, with no corners cut, resulted in what I can easily say was a tea brewed to the best of my abilities.

 

 

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Filed under Ceramics, Oolong, Tea Tasting

Making tea on a hot day

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(IMAGE: Young sheng pu-erh in a fine porcelain Jingdezhen teacup, perfect for a hot summer’s day)

Dear beloved blog readers,

Its hot. Its humid. Its a late summer’s day; a time when you might have a bright, dry morning, only to give way to a thick, moist, thunderstorm evening. With such extremes, one might think that drinking tea, a hot beverage, would only cause an added measure of unease. However, on days like these, tea can offer a cooling respite to the heat, you just need to know how to do it right. In this entry, I’ll offer some ideas that will help you to stay cool while still enjoying tea.

Summer Bowl

(IMAGE: A black Oribe-yaki “Horse Trough-shaped” (馬盥茶碗) summer teabowl is shallow, allowing for the tea to cool off quickly)

“In the summer, suggest coolness”: The 16th century Japanese teamaster Sen no Rikyu once noted “In the summer, suggest coolness. In the winter, warmth.” For making tea, this is crucial, as not only can places like Japan (or China, or Korea…or New York City for that matter) can get incredibly hot in the summer, but also the tea you make and the way you make it can change how heat affects you (and your guests). Rikyu had countless solutions for this, from moving the tea brazier away from the guests (placing the mizusashi, or cool water container, between the brazier and the guest, thus keeping the radiant heat of the brazier at a distance), to even using shallow teabowls to serve tea (as this would help to cool the tea down before drinking). Even having visual cues, such as using a crystal tea caddy (since crystal looks like ice), hanging flowers in baskets (to give a sense of “airiness”), or having a scroll with a “cooling” image or poem written on it was deemed helpful to this end. Practitioners of chanoyu are well aware of these strategies and it is reflected in how they offer tea on hot summer’s days.

Taipinghoukui

(IMAGE: Large and vibrant leaves of a semi-wild Tai Ping Hou Kui (太平猴魁) green tea, perfect for lower-temperature steeping)

Choose the “right” tea: The notion of a “right” tea for any occasion seems to be a hotly contested point among tea people. While I can safely say there is no “right” tea, there are aspects to consider when choosing a tea for a hot day. Teas that favor lower temperatures for brewing like green teas are ideal. Likewise, teas that might benefit by being steeped at a lower temperature could also work. Young sheng pu-erh teas, green oolongs, and even some white or red teas can produce amazing results! It is even said in traditional Chinese medicine that some teas (most teas outside of the more “neutral” pu-erh teas) are ying (or “cooling”) in energy. I find that greener teas tend to carry this quality the most, but this can differ from person to person.

Hohin

(IMAGE: A Japanese porcelain houhin (宝瓶) with kintsugi (金継ぎ) gold lacquer repair)

Selecting teaware: As mentioned before with the suggestion made by Rikyu, teaware can have a big effect on how tea is enjoyed in times of great heat. On hot days, I typically avoid using yixing teaware and, instead, use porcelain or even glass wares. Why? Simple thermodynamics. Whereas yixing wares are renowned for retaining heat (which is ideal for steeping strong brews of oolong, pu-erh, and black teas), porcelain and glass tend to give-off their heat, allowing for the hot water for tea to cool down. While this is ideal for green and white teas, with skill, one can brew higher-oxidized teas this way as well, resulting in smooth-tasting liqueurs, often with long-fading finishes (the huí gān 回甘, “returning dry/sweetness”) attributed to finer quality teas. Likewise, using wider and thinner tea cups, as well as water cooling vessels can help bring the temperature down for a more refreshing brew.

 

So, how do you beat the heat and still drink tea? I’d love to know your thoughts on this.

As you may have noticed, I left out any mention of “iced teas” or “cold-brew teas”. This was intentional as I plan on tackling this topic in its own wonderful future post!

Until then!

 

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Filed under Ceramics, Education, Tea Tasting