have tea, will travel

Just got back from my summer vacation up in Lake Placid. I spent a wonderful, isolated week and a half at a friend's cabin on one of the islands in the middle of the lake. The rule had been to "pack light" since I was sharing a small car and limited trunk space with three others. The last leg of the trip ended in a tiny motor boat (with a maximum capacity of 5 people or 4 with luggage) ride across the lake to the cabin. Packing only the essentials, I had to leave all of my tea equipment behind. I spent the days sunning, swimming, making s'mores in a century old fireplace, and hiking Whiteface Mountain with friends. I also spent a lot of the time craving tea and wishing I had risked even a small gaiwan and some cups. I regretted not hijacking Michael's personal tea kit for traveling.

During my vacation, my thoughts often drifted towards that elegant, two-layer Ching dynasty basket containing the necessary basics for Gong Fu Cha outside the tearoom. Tall and slender, I could have easily shared my car seat with it. I'm posting some photos I took of the tea basket during a cultural event we participated in before I left. Now maybe I won't be the only one fantasizing about this beautiful antique turned tea kit during summer vacation.

This basket of brown laquered bamboo and cane dates back to the 1880's and was used primarily to transport food. A thin strip of metal sits over the lid, between the handles and is locked in place with a key. A nice solution to keep the contents from falling out if the basket is tipped over. When the cover is removed, a shallow tray sits above the first layer. This is where Michael keeps tea utensils and a strainer, folded into his tea towels.

I have to admire Michael's showmanship. Usually during an event, a crowd gathers to watch what he pulls from the basket. The setup becomes just as interesting as the actual tea ceremony. I can't think of a more stylish way to announce one's tea addiction while far from home. The first compartment has enough room for a small porcelain tea tray, a tea boat, a gaiwan wrapped in it's silk purse, some shallow dishes to displaying dried tea leaf, several tea samples, a funnel for the teapot and a rolled up mat to that goes under the tea tray.
The bottom layer holds some more tea towels ( they do double duty of protecting porcelains from knocking into each other during transport). A waste bowl cradles a wrapped teapot. There's also a fairness pitcher, some wooden tea coasters, teacups and even a shallow vessel for rinsing teacups.

Almost ready for tea...

I hope you can agree, it's a pretty nice setup for tea on the road. All one needs is a pure water source and a kettle. A teamaster on the premises would be nice too but not necessary. Maybe next time, I'll have the pleasure of a holiday with the comforts of tea .

Brewing Sencha

This week, Winnie and I want to answer your questions about brewing techniques for Japanese Sencha. There is more than one appropriate way to brew and I'm sure some will disagree with the information in this post. There's lots of instruction available online but we just wanted to share some of the tips we've picked up from other tea masters. We also encourage every one to experiment and decide what works best for their own preferences.

The heated water is first poured into a cooling vessel.
Water temperature is judged in stages and this is the first part. The rising steam is beautiful to look at as it curls and dances away from the water. But it also tells us the temperature is too hot to start brewing. Usually, the water is then poured into the empty teapot to warm up the clay and then returned to the cooling pitcher. This helps to dissipate some of the water's excess heat. Many people brew sencha at 175-185 degrees Fahrenheit but I feel that cooks the delicate, fresh leaves. Then you end up with broth, not tea. Lower is always better for me and I usually wait til the water temp. is at least 140 -150 degrees (F). A basic rule for green tea is "to brew longer, not hotter". Brewing with lukewarm or room temperature water is a different matter entirely.

The Asatsuyu sencha is poured into the heated teapot. The warmed tea leaves give off a soft and savory aroma.

So the tea leaves are ready and we want to double check the heat of the water. We often run the cooled water very quickly over our fingertips to help us gauge the heat level and calculate how long the brewing time will be. Sane people use a thermometer. Let me just add, we are NOT pouring scalding water over our skin. The water is already cooled a bit and we are using the sensitivity of our fingertips to judge if it's ready to brew tea. It should feel like dipping a toe into a fresh hot bath. Almost too hot to bear but endurable. You know what... just get a thermometer. I do not want to receive emails from people with scalded body parts.

I think the terracotta color of the tokoname ceramics complements the emerald green of the tea. The water is now poured over the leaves and the lid is placed on the pot. It's only a matter of seconds before the first brew is ready for us.

Now it's time to serve the tea. Some pour the tea into the cooling vessel and serve from there. But is also acceptable to pour directly into the cups, provided that each cup only receives a little at a time as illustrated. The timing is important for this part. Especially for the first brew, the initial pour looks more like water but by the time you've emptied the teapot, each teacup holds a beautiful shade of green.
While you are serving tea in this manner, the start and stop effect keeps the tea leaves in constant motion. The idea is not to agitate the leaves but to gently swirl them around and keep them suspended in the water. This prevents the smallest particles that get bitter very quickly from settling at the bottom of the pot. Instead, they usually pass through the teapot's strainer into the cup. You can strain out the particles if you wish but we like the depth of flavor and texture they add.

I know it's far easier to show a brewing technique rather than explain the process in words. So I did a quick and terribly executed video of Winnie brewing sencha. The quality's just so-so (used the new IPhone video tool) and the lighting is worse but I figure it saves me some words. Also, I hope this answers some of the other aspects I did not really address. This video is a first for us and a spur of the moment thing. So please don't judge too harshly.
I should mention that Michael was not around when I did this. Otherwise, there would be proper lighting, stable camera work and it would be a million times better. In fact, I know he's going to cringe when he sees this. Fortunately for me, my vacation starts tomorrow and I can deal with it when I get back.
Happy Independence Day.

A farewell.. of sorts

There are a lot of reasons why a store closes it's doors for good. Ours was one of the most straightforward: our lease was up and the landlord wanted to double our rent. We did the math, factored in a lousy economy, the large number of available storefronts that weren't charging exorbitant rents and knew it was time for a change. What that change meant was a little harder to grasp and the questions about the Gallery's future didn't come with immediate answers. A move was imminent but finding and preparing a new space would take time.
Fortunately, the teas and accessories are available through the website and Michael and Winnie set up a temporary space to host tea-tastings for the summer. Work continues for us and we're excited about upcoming plans. Not having a retail space to anchor them to the city, talk of travel is in the air. I'm giddy about the future but my mood is bittersweet. It feels like leaving a home I grew up in and I wanted to share one last look...

Michael's still packing up the antiques and furniture. Some of it's being used at the temporary space we're working out of. But a number of pieces are destined for storage.
I did offer to help with the packing but I could see the movie reel in Michael's head playing back my clumsier moments from the past. And there have been a lot. If I wasn't dropping gaiwans and knocking over his camera equipment, I was doing a good job of smashing my own body parts against table corners and tripping over chair legs. So it didn't come as a surprise when Michael suggested I take that time to do anything else but help him. He would call me if they needed someone to prop open doors while they moved the heavy furniture. I couldn't argue, I was too busy doubled over from the pain of slamming my knee into a chair corner.

I will miss walking through the moon gate. I'm sad we couldn't take that with us. It helped separate the world of loud, ugly street traffic from the peaceful devotion to tea. People always lost track off time while having tea with us and I credit Michael and Winnie's interior design.

While Michael preferred to make tea in the back of the store, so many Saturdays found me at the original tea table waiting for the day's appointments. I loved the quiet moments while I heated up the kettle and rinsed out teacups before our clients arrived. The table is with us in the new space and it's a comfort to take a break from work and ask Winnie to brew a cup of tea. We still sit together and sample the new harvests coming in. It's been a relief to know somethings do not change.

One thing I'm sure about, there is still a Tea Gallery. We're enjoying our tea and you're welcome to join us.

Tea with Masters

A very special tasting at the Gallery this past weekend with our friend and patron, YoungJai; her lovely daughter, Helen and her former tea master from the Urasenke Center, Terazono Sensei.

Michael started with a 2008 BingDou puer cake and then a WuYi Cliff Cinnamon. The conversation became light and lively as we put away several rounds of tea. "This is great", Mr. Terazono joked, "I can relax while someone else makes tea... Very good tea"
As he bantered and sipped tea, he observed Michael closely and commented on the gracefulness of Michael's movements, "This is something tea masters share regardless of culture." Fluid, unhurried motions that bring a sense of ease and harmony to your guests. Michael decided to perform his ChiuJia GongFu Cha ritual for Mr. Terazono
Much was said on the similarities between the two tea forms represented at this tasting.

After the last sip of Michael's GongFu Cha, YoungJai said, "I believe Terazono Sensei would like to make matcha for everyone... " This was met with a burst of excitement and Michael insisted on giving his seat to Terazono Sensei. As he removed his tea implements out of the bag, he warned, "This is very informal but I can show you the mechanics of making the tea. For the true experience, you must come to one of my classes " We started with KoiCha, the thick grade matcha. Terazono Sensei quickly sifted the KoiCha powder.

As he prepared the whisk and teabowl, he discussed the basics of brewing matcha. He scooped a few grams of the emerald green powder into the bowl and poured in some hot water. As he whisked the tea, he discussed the texture and thickness he was looking for. The end result had consistency similar to eggnog or pancake batter. The taste was sweet and slightly vegetal, rich and mouthwatering.A sumptuous mouth-feel with a spike of energy at the finish.

Drinking etiquette was discussed, as well as the proper way to hold and pass the bowl.
A white tea napkin was passed around to wipe the edge of the bowl where each person had sipped.
When the bowl was returned to Terazono Sensei, he said, "Now, maybe Michael should try and make matcha."

The teacher is also the student.. Michael gets some pointers on whisking matcha.

It was interesting to see the two masters standing together. One getting a lesson from the other. Michael's unruly hair and his disheveled "James Dean" look was in stark contrast to Terazono Sensei's neat and studious appearance. There was also a difference of culture and generation but none of it mattered while tea was the subject.

Enjoying a good lesson.

Someone finally consulted a timepiece and we were surprised to know that more than 4 hours had passed while we shared tea and knowledge. Time had flown by in the tea oasis we had created and it was coming to an end. We thanked our guests for the company and the lessons. There was no farewell, instead a promise to visit the world of Terazono Sensei very soon.

A Week of Sencha

Grey winter days and the low energy that came with it were starting affect the attitude at the Gallery. Hoping a little spring fashion would help us through the bleak weather, we hit an exclusive sample sale before work. After dismal pickings and a mediocre lunch, Winnie and I headed to the Gallery in defeat. At least we could have tea. "We need something to go with tea," Winnie announced. We found some brightly frosted "Spring Cupcakes" at Pinisi Cafe, a few blocks away and I felt the dark clouds lift just a little.
At the Gallery, Michael said, "Our samples and the new teapots just arrived." Samples of single bush senchas and small tononame teapots. Things were starting look up.
Toki of the The Mandarin's Tea dropped by and the atmosphere was feeling festive.

A pairing of new tokoname with a 1950's Japanese covered tea bowl.

We spent the day, exploring the sweet, velvety world of Japanese senchas. From single bush offerings (some that tasted like a gyokuro) to three bush blends. We played with different brewing methods to see if we could raise the umami factor and play up the sweetness.

This little teapot is probably what started it all.
A Yixing teapot produced for the Japanese market during the late 60's. I found it while rummaging through one of many teapot laden cabinets at the Gallery. Of course, I had to know how a Japanese tea would taste in a Yixing vessel. Now that we had our samples, and I had spent the better part of the week cleaning out the old teapot, it was time to play.

I used a single bush sencha from the Saemidori. The pot heated up beautifully and the aroma from the warmed tea leaves made my mouth water. It took a little more wrist dexterity when it came time to pour, the broken leaves kept clogging up the small Chinese style strainer holes. The liquor was rich and expansive on the palate. Aside, from the tricky pouring, the clay itself added a little softness to the overall flavor and texture.
We spent the rest of the week playing with and tasting senchas, taking copious notes and finding favorites. The weather's still awful and grey but there's some spring green in my cup and bright days ahead.

Life is sweet...

Burn Victim

A cold winter, an extended vacation... but I'm back now.
It's lovely to return to The Tea Gallery when I've been away for any length of time. It's even nicer to see patrons returning from holiday adventures to share a cup of tea. Kai dropped by on a very busy Friday but I unglued myself from the computer, eager to see what he had brought with him. He unwrapped a small Yixing teapot and lightly said, "Tell me what you think."

The color was beautiful. The right shade of "purple" that can add more value to a teapot. Knowing Kai, it was at least a hundred years old and probably more. It was small and fit easily in my hand. The lid was nearly the same width as the pot, unusual to see such a large opening.

The characters inscribed on the lid's handle said Han (Dynasty) Tile because it was shaped after the style of the roof tiles from that period. A gentle curve that left a sliver of space between lid and handle and not much to grip. The clay felt smooth beneath my fingers until I came across a little bump. What's this? A blemish on an otherwise lustrous surface. "How did this bump get here?"
"Look inside", said Kai, "You'll get your answer..."

I gasped when I saw the blistered interior and Kai laughed at my surprise. What could have caused the surface of the clay to form those bubbles? I pressed on the raised welts as if I could smooth them out, it was hardened of course. Winnie had a similar response when I passed the pot to her. Kai finally explained, "Sometimes this happens to teapots that have been fired in a Dragon Kiln. If the heat is improperly controlled, especially in the hottest part of the kiln, the clay gets damaged in this way." It looked like a burn victim because it was in a way.

I wondered if it affected the flavor of tea in any way. Kai didn't know because the pot didn't pour very well so he had never used it for tea. "But it's a nice teapot and it still has something to teach", he said. I could agree with that.

Kai couldn't tell me much about the stamp on the bottom. He guessed it was the name of a teashop that had commissioned the production of this teapot.

After I had finished taking photos, Kai wrapped up his pot and had one last cup of tea before he ventured back into the cold and his work. I stared at the photos on my computer, admiring the color of Kai's teapot, grateful for the lesson and happy to be back at The Tea Gallery.

A season of Aloeswood

Tea isn't the only thing Michael's been brewing these past few months. He partnered with Toki of The Mandarin's Tea Room in a little side project. Lately their interest had been in the rare and rarified Aloeswood. The resinous heart of an evergreen tree that's found in parts of Southeast Asia and cherished for it's intense fragrance. One that conjures up exotic forests, spice markets and perfume soaked nights. What makes aloeswood different from other naturally scented woods? The tree must first become infected with a fungal parasite, then it exudes a dark resin as part of it's defense against the fungus. This rare but natural process has to occur for the tree to become the fragrant Aloeswood.
But why were we brewing it at The Tea Gallery?
Most often used in incense and perfume, Toki thought the wood's fragrance might enhance a basket of liubao tea if stored and aged together. Winnie noted a flavor and scent in certain aged teas that reminded her of Aloeswood. The more it was discussed, the more associations between tea and tree were discovered. Also, making a tisane of Aloeswood wasn't uncommon. We just had to try it oursleves.

This tiny splinter of Aloeswood was all that was needed to fill four gongfu cups with the most incredibly scented water. There were layers of fragrant wood and warm spices wrapped in sweetness. I was reminded at once of sandalwood, cedar, cinnamon, clove, ginger, allspice and none of the above. There was something familiar and yet an alien profile was now altering my tastebuds and pulling up random recollections in an effort to fit itself into my sensory banks.
While Michael steeped the precious splinter many times that afternoon, the fragrance did not dampen. It was obvious we would have to stop before the Aloeswood did. When I asked Toki if this was normal, he replied, "Not all Aloeswoods are equal." Many believe that the best specimens were harvested to extinction decades ago. The wood that may have scented the perfume or incense of a Ching Dynasty aristocrat may have been far more powerful than the modern grades available now. Many trees are deliberately infected to meet the demand but these are considered an inferior grade to the wild Aloeswood. You can find Aloeswood to brew but the strength and complexity will be determined by the grade and age.

While the alluring perfume danced on our palates, Michael decided to give our other senses something to indulge in.

An Aloeswood carving of a boy sitting atop a bull and his companion on foot.
About 6 inches tall and possibly early Ching Dynasty. I'm always impressed when Michael produces the appropriate antique for a tea gathering; it's like bringing the perfect dessert to a party only much cooler.

Amazingly, there was still a fragrance but one that had mingled with dusty storage rooms.

Although the figures lack finesse, there's a beautiful rythm and fluid movement to the overall piece. The gold accents glow softly against the dark wood. Expressive poses and swirling branches brings this carving life.

At the foot of the carving are two wooden peg inserts. This was once attached to something much larger and we can only guess at what it was. Part of a greater artwork or something more utilitarian? If so, was the rest of the piece also made from the precious Aloeswood? Having been passed through several owners before it reached Michael, it's history has been pretty much lost to us.
I asked Michael the age of the carving and he would only say a few hundred years, give or take. When I pestered him for more information, he pointed to the shelves of antique catalogues and books and wished me luck on my research. I'm still searching...

Sometimes it's the other things you learn that bring you back to tea.
Months later we are still sipping water steeped with a little splinter.