While visiting Kingston's up and coming tearoom, I found he had a tree-stump Yixing teapot that resembled mine. I couldn't pass up this learning experience so I brought my teapot over on my next visit and let Kingston compare the two (above picture: mine is on the right). Pots like this can be made from a mold but what sets one from the other is the artist's eye for sharpening and adding details to the final product.

Winnie also has a tree-stump teapot. We picked up ours together in Hong Kong. There are elements to both our teapots that we find in Kingston's version. I asked Kingston for his first impressions. He said mine was nicer because of the greater amount of detail and the way those details were executed. While the color of the clay was the same, Kingston noticed a subtle, textural difference. It's one I have had trouble trying to catch on camera. The contrast isn't great enough but Kingston felt the difference with his hands. My clay was superior so the teapot felt smoother and more consistent throughout.

Kingston's teapot is on the left and you can see the handle while resembling a a young branch is nice but it's not as interesting as the aged and cracked wood effect of my teapot's handle. This detail adds a greater value for collectors who like this style. So long as it's not overwrought, intricate flourishes are expected with this kind of organic look.

Winnie's teapot is on the foreground and you can see just how clean and sharp its edges are compared to the softer contours of the Kingston pot. No major differences between all three pots but the sum of those little things add up to significant dollars.

  None of the teapots shown have been used but one of the joys of owning this style of pot is brewing with it and allowing a natural patina to develop. Because of all the tree knots and floral details, the changes in color saturation will be more pronounced between the smooth and rough areas. The tea staining adds another layer to the intricate look.

This was my first time using the tree-stump pot. Because it's quite small and holds only 60cc, I chose a tightly rolled tikwanyin. I wanted to enhance the richness of the red clay so I used our "Classic Roast" Iron Bodhisattva. It's deep, burgundy hue is a natural complement to the clay.
It's finally time to "feed" the teapot.

 

One cup for me, and one for the teapot.

 

 The submerged bottom of the teapot showed me a preview of the rich color I can eventually attain the more I use it. All those carefully carved out nooks and crevices will darken and add dimension to the woody details. This is one teapot that does require a little extra attention for it's maintenance. I want to make sure the tea and water stains accentuate and highlight the organic shape of this tea and not leave marks on the smooth parts of the surface. Once I was done using the teapot, emptied the leaves and given it a quick rinse, I gently buffed the surface dry with a thick tea towel. Then I used a smaller, thinner cloth and rubbed away the stains that left outlines around the carved flowers and notches. You can also use a clean, medium-bristled paintbrush to get beneath the handle and other small niches.

While it takes time for the patina to develop, I feel an impatience to see those delicate flowers and carefully etched knots pop with contrast.

Golden Buddha Hand: Trial in the Tearoom

 

 2010 Fall Harvest vs. 2010 Spring Harvest 

We don't always have the leisure to spend and afternoon with tea in this society. Even working at a tearoom, means a lot of administrative work and taking care of your clients. It's a shame since some teas undergo many changes during multiple infusions and resting periods. At the tearoom, we often refer to the "life" of the tea, the journey it takes from the first delicate infusions to the eventual peak in flavor and body. Then there's the slow, softening of flavors as it completes it's arc and reaches the end.

The past few months, Toki and I have been drinking and evaluating the 2010 Fall harvest of an oolong, called Golden Buddha Hand. Soon to be an exclusive offering from The Mandarin's Tearoom. I also got to compare the tea to it's 2010 Spring harvest version. This was the tea producers initial offering and some changes were made to improve the later batch. As you can see in the picture above, the two harvests are very similar in appearance except the Spring harvest on the right, is slightly darker due to roast.

 Here were the starting parameters:

 

• I measured 7 grams each of the dry leaf and used porcelain gaiwans at 90cc, pre-heated with boiling water. Examined the dry leaf aromas: due to the cool and dry conditions of the tearoom (winter in NYC, ugh), both teas had a subdued fragrance. 2010 Fall was surprisingly more potent than it's darker sibling from Spring. Sweeter with light citrus flowers that seemed less oppressed than the soft, nutty notes of the roasted version.
• I used boiling water for the flash rinse, decanted and enjoyed the awakening fragrance of the wet leaves. Now I get fresh cream and bergamot oil from the greener 2010 Fall. Florals were evident in the roasted 2010 Spring, layered with toasted grain.
• First steep lasted less then 10 seconds. Leaves of both teas were still tightly curled. Differing colors between the two teas really starts to set them apart. 2010 Spring has an orange hue and the stronger flavor. The pale yellow-green of 2010 Fall looks almost neon against the white porcelain with lots of creaminess and flowers. I'm reminded of a creamsicle. Both have strong citrus notes.
• Second steep was only a few seconds longer. Slowly the flavor builds, and the finish begins to develop. More orange flowers. More of the roast in the 2010 Spring.
• Third steep, there's more body and layers to both teas as expected. 
• Bottom of the cup fragrance: After I emptied my cup, both teas left a persistent, sweet scent clinging to the porcelain. 
• Fourth steep has the 2010 Fall leaves opening up and filling up it's gaiwan. 2010 Spring maintains it's shape. Both teas continue to develop more layers but I find myself drawn to the greener oolong. It's flowers and cream are so easy to enjoy, there's little effort for so much pleasure.  

• Far from finished, I do the Stress Test: or "pushing" the tea. Skilled brewing and appropriate water temperature can bring out the best in most good quality teas. One can also learn things about their tea when brewing under hostile parameters with longer heat and infusing times. Usually this is reserved for oolongs and puers; the better quality ones can handle it quite well without developing astringent notes. (Phoenix oolongs don't seem to handle this test very well, regardless of grade.) Some high quality, aged teas "can't be pushed" meaning they give up their flavor and fragrance on their own time and no amount of coaxing or brewing skill will deliver those notes prematurely. For the fifth steep, I left the tea in for about a minute longer than necessary. The 2010 Spring roast yielded some tannins and tipped the balance of the flavor profile. 2010 Fall performed more admirably, unleashing more piquant citrus and buttery texture. 
• I approached the sixth steep with less aggression. Another think to look at was if the tea would bounce back when reverting to normal brewing standards. Now that the tannins were revealed in the 2010 Spring, they were staying put. The 2010 Fall was more accommodating, maintaining consistent flavor throughout it's ordeal.

• Resting period: This is something Tim does to see what changes will occur to the flavors when you walk away from your tea in the middle and let it cool a bit before resuming the tasting session. After a few steeps, leave the tea alone in the brewing vessel, without water but covered by the lid. 
• I returned to brew the seventh steep after a hour long rest for the tea. I used boiling water again and steeped for 30 seconds. The biggest change was in the 2010 Fall version. It shifted the balance towards a sweet but grassier taste. Not bad at all, just different with more herbaceous notes. Depending on my mood, I could see myself craving both flavors. The 2010 Spring held on to it's roasted notes with a sweeter touch.
  

• Golden Buddha Hand has some of the largest leaves of the Tikwanyin family. 2010 Spring leaves never fully unfurled due to it's roast, the leaves remained a little kinked. 2010 Fall's leaves opened up completely, flat and full with a soft, resilient texture.

Both versions Golden Buddha Hand were surprising in their brewing stamina. I've never been really interested in Buddha Hand before this. Many of the one's I'd tasted before were decent but far from inspiring. The Mandarin's find is special one; easy to like and capable of holdingmy interest. I got to examine two different harvests and processing styles. It showed me some of the flavor range the leaves are capable of. With a relaxing chaqi, I spent the rest of the day pleasantly warm and happy.

WuYi Tea Sunday

Photo by WrongFu Cha

This weekend I partnered up with Brandon from WrongFu Cha to document and share some tips on brewing WuYi Cliff YanCha (rock tea). This seemed like a good time to taste The Tea Gallery's 2009 Little Foot which doesn't get nearly enough loving as it deserves. I made the tea and stayed still for the pictures (the easy part) while Brandon took photos, wrote up a quick and easy guideline and posted the results (the hard part). Visit Brandon's blog and read: Brewing Rock Tea.

Back to Tung Ting: Spring Harvest

May was an interesting month for us.

Much of our work took us out of the tearoom and into large, beige conference rooms. We did a tea presentation and tasting every week for corporate sponsored Asian heritage events; I spoke from podiums and lost my voice a couple times. It was a huge relief when I showed up at our tearoom and there was nothing to pack, no lectures to hurriedly edit. I almost cried with happiness as I joined Michael and Winnie at the tea table, something we hadn't done together in several weeks. Winnie sat in the host's chair while Michael was leaning his elbows on the table.
Master Lin's spring harvest TungTing had finally arrived and this would be my first chance to sample it. This was also the first of our spring harvests to come in. Early April frosts in Asia had pushed back the delivery dates on many of our teas so our eagerness was ratcheted up this season. The afternoon light pouring through the windows was golden and hazy. It cast a glow over Winnie and the tea table. The blue and white porcelain took on muted shades and softer edges. I couldn't help but anticipate something special.

The tightly rolled leaves look very similar to the previous winter harvest TungTing.
They look like sleeping baby tortoises. They turn a rich, glossy green once they get wet with thick, woody stems.

The leaves didn't start to unfurl until the third infusion.

Winnie was brewing and she has a lighter touch than Michael. She used about 4 grams in our medium sized gaiwan.

After she rinsed the leaves and reserved the liquid in a separate pitcher, we could smell delicate orchids and a faint, pear aroma coming of the heated leaves. The first brew had just a hint of color. I was almost afraid Winnie had brewed it too light but one sip banished my worries. There was a surprising amount of sweetness and a creamy yet refreshing texture.

By the third brew, the color was a rich, buttery hue with a touch of green. A slender body with a lovely dry note brought the fruit and flowers to a sophisticated level. Although, light roasted oolongs like this don't carry the same depth of flavor that heavier roasts offer, Master Lin's masterful roasting techniques and the care he puts into his gardens are evident in the abundant layers we found in his tea.

Winnie demonstrates traditional tea etiquette: Her hand covers her mouth as she sips tea from her cup.

After the fifth cup, our mouths were practically exhaling a bouquet of sweet TungTing flowers, Winnie shared the reserved liquid from the rinse. It was a soft, shadow of the first cup. Elusive tropical notes washed over our taste buds.

There were still a few more steeps left in the leaves but the brewing time was getting longer. To keep the water hot enough while the leaves steeped, Winnie transferred the tea leaves from the gaiwan into a heated, Yixing teapot she designated for light roasted Tung Ting oolong. She left a couple leaves out for us to inspect. I played with one, pulling and testing the resilience and thickness. The surface of the leaf was silky soft. When I was done, I let it drop into my empty cup not realizing Winnie had one more steep to serve...

From TungTing Mountain

We spent our morning on Tung Ting Mountain visiting the tea gardens. The sun finally broke through the early morning mist and the cool air was just starting to warm up. It was a peaceful walk through an emerald landscape dotted with palm trees. The air tasted sweet and crisp.

Winnie standing beside the stone walls that separate the tiers of tea bushes in a traditional Tung Ting tea garden. While we walked through the garden, the constant hum of bees drowned out most other noises as they flew from flower to pollen-stuffed flower.

We had a chance to examine the aftermath of the Winter Harvest. The tender, top leaves of the branches are clipped very cleanly by hand and the rest of the plant is left in pristine condition. They are left alone to grow alongside the various other flora of the mountain and tended by the diligent bees until next harvest. We were reluctant to leave the serenity of the tea gardens but it was finally time to taste some tea.

We were fortunate enough to have an audience with the famed Master Lin, whose tearoom has hosted the leaders of Taiwan for generations. We were greeted warmly by his family. Both Master Lin's son and grandson joined us for tea at the table.

Master Lin started with his recently roasted Winter Harvest Tung Ting.

Light, sweet and full of delicate orchid notes. The roast gave an appealing nuttiness and depth to the body of the tea. It was the perfect refreshment after our morning walk.

Master Lin spoke lovingly about his gardens. He cultivates both tea and bamboo.

He also spoke about his dedication to traditional roasting styles but was careful not to divulge the secrets of his family's techniques. He would only say that he used the wood of a particular fruit tree and Michael knew it was unwise to press for more information.
Even his grandson, who was asked to brew the next tea has been kept in the dark regarding the roasting process. He's still in college studying forestry and hasn't been allowed into the roasting room yet. Once he's graduated, he'll start training in this crucial part of his family's tea traditions.

We moved on to Master Lin's selection of aged oolongs. The teas he sets aside for aging get re-roasted once a year. He had his grandson prepare the 6 year aged Tung Ting. We had come across some aged oolongs during our trip but Master Lin's was the most captivating. Our biggest compliment to him was that the tea tasted older than was stated. It was a comment he was very familiar with. More layers of sweet flowers, roasted nuts, wood and bamboo kept revealing themselves. the chaqi was relaxing and I started to feel very warm despite the coolness of the room.

Master Lin took over the tea table again to brew his 20 year aged tea.
The color of the liquor was dark like a decades old puer. The quality of the leaf and his technique was apparent in the taste. Rich, deep, fruity with a hint of malted sweetness. Michael was intrigued by the results of Master Lin's roast, so different from the Hong Kong style he's most familiar with. The chaqi had me blissed out and suddenly craving the sweet pineapple shortcakes we had left in the car. Our tasting was almost at an end, and we had experienced stellar examples of high elevation, hand picked teas produced by a master and brewed by the same. Now it was just a question of how much could we take back with us?

With his tea in such great demand, it wasn't even our place to ask to purchase some.
We waited, hoping we had made a good enough impression (or at least not a terrible one) for him to offer us tea for purchase. Most of you know we are able to sell his Winter Harvest Tung Ting on our website but he also allowed us to take home some of his 6 year and 20 year aged oolong. Sadly, we could only take enough for ourselves and had to promise not to sell any of it. It would be for our own personal enjoyment.
I still have some and very soon I hope to share it with you.

A "Classic" Afternoon

Yesterday gave us our first chilly preview of fall. It was a good opportunity to make ourselves some heavily roasted oolong and stay warm. We decided on our Classic Roast Iron Bodhisattva. We've received a lot of questions about this tea and it's about time I did a post about our most popular oolong. Most were about brewing methods and water temperature. I'll try to include information that answers the most common questions we get.
While this is the tea that Michael uses for his ChiuJoa GongFu Cha, it's flavorful enough to withstand even a western style brewing method with little leaf, lots of water and longer steeping time. Michael is away for the week, so Winnie decided to brew in the basic GongFu style that anyone can do.
Right now, we're drinking and selling the 2009 Spring Harvest. Because of the heavy roasting, this oolong has a very long shelf life so long as it is stored in an airtight container, away from light and heat. Michael will usually reserve some of the harvest for himself so he can age the tea for later enjoyment. Aging is possible due to the high firing process the leaves go through. The heat stabilizes the tea oils and compounds. Once it's been stored for a few years, the roasted character mellows and the flavors become more complex. It's a softer taste with fewer floral notes but a more mature profile. Also, the cha-qi will strengthen over time and drinking a ten year aged TiKwanYin has had me blissed out and dreamy.

Now we that we have the tea, we need a teapot:

This Yixing clay pot is from the seventies. It can hold about 2oz - 60cc of liquid. It's TINY. It fits perfectly in my hand and I have small hands. Pots of this style are well crafted and beautiful to look at but the thin walls can crack if exposed to to extreme temperature change. This is rare but when you have something this nice , why take chances?
Take the time to start with very warm water (120 degrees), fill the teapot and make sure the outer walls are thoroughly soaked. Empty the teapot and repeat once more with hot water (175 degrees). After the teapot has been emptied again, you can proceed to use boiling water to heat up the pot before adding the tea leaves.

Once the teapot is heated through and emptied, Winnie pours in the tea. She doesn't stop until the pot is three quarters full. With so much tea, infusions are going to be very short to prevent bitterness and oversteeping. The first several steeps will be poured out almost as quickly as the water was poured in.

Hot water is poured first along the outer rim and circles it's way into the pot. Winnie pours it out as soon as she's put down the kettle and replaced the lid. This is the tea rinse and is reserved in the fairness pitcher.

We can't all have Winnie's delicate bone structure. But there are ways of moving and serving tea that create a graceful atmosphere. Every person who's ever made tea for me has their own "style" that comes through.

The rinse is poured back over the outside of the teapot. Winnie calls it "feeding the pot". The Yixing clay develops a rich patina from years of soaking up the tea. Most of our readers know this but I think it's important enough to mention again. Some people still toss out the rinse not believing it's good for anything. Bathing your teapot with the rinse is an important part of maintaining and properly aging the teapot.

Another good shot of Winnie's hand position as she pours out the tea. Her fingers are curled around the handle, mimicking the curves of the teapot and creating a nice rhythm. In my lessons with Michael in the traditional ChiuJao GongFu Cha method, I was made aware of how my pinky finger would often stick straight out and apart from the rest of my hand while I brewed tea. A little thing but one that betrayed tension in my movements and exposed my
inexperience. It seems like a minor detail most people wouldn't notice but your guests may pick up a sense of discomfort at a subconscious level. Afterward, they may wonder why they didn't feel entirely relaxed during the tea session. Keep your movements small and fluid. Notice your fingers, wrists, elbows and shoulders. Keep your back straight but not rigid
Maybe you don't care about appearance so long as you can make a good cup of tea. Or maybe, one day, you will make tea for a master... and they will notice everything.

Because there is so much leaf packed into the pot, it's important to give the teapot time to let as much of the infusion drain out. Find an appropriate fairness pitcher or porcelain cup to rest the teapot against. The circumference of the opening should be small enough to keep the lid secure against the pot. While the water navigates the labyrinth of twisted leaf to pour out of the spout, the tea's finish should be perfuming the mouth and tasting sweeter on the tongue.

The first couple of steeps gives us an autumn hue. I think of sunsets when I see this color. Subsequent steeps get richer and darker as we move to heart of the tea.

As Winnie brews, the leaves expand and start to push out of the pot. There's just enough tea to fill two little cups.

The afternoon wore on, and each infusion took a little longer than the last to brew. Finally, Winnie upended the pot one last time that day. There was a little light left in the sky and Winnie fancied a walk in the crisp air.

I hope this has answered some questions, although maybe I'll have created more. Either way, it's always great to hear from other tea people and I'll do my best to respond to any comments left on this post.

Rain and Phoenix

I do love a flared rim on a porcelain cup. Filled to the top, the edges of the tea lighten and disappear into the porcelain's glaze. There is no demarcation of tea and vessel, just softness and a beautiful blurring of elements. I take a sip and the world seems to lose its hard edges. Rain on a weekday afternoon also gives me that same fuzzy feeling. Sheets of water slap against the windows and the city skyline fades into the clouds. It's dark and cozy and I happily abandon the computer and join Winnie at the tea table.

She's brewing the Phoenix oolong, a tea that loves the wet weather. Hard to explain, maybe it's the humidity or the change in atmospheric pressure... whatever it is, a rainy day just seems to bring out the best in teas, especially teas from Phoenix Mt. My mouth starts to water as she scoops out the dark, slender leaves. I can already taste the notes of peach and wild almonds. I know the aroma will not disappear and instead wait for me at the bottom of my cup

The afternoon seems even more special as Winnie pulls out her cherished Yixing teapot for Phoenix tea. Since the move, so much of what used to be on display has been carefully packed and shelved to keep our new, smaller space organized and clutter-free.
It's been months since I've seen this beautiful teapot:

Understandably, Winnie stopped using her phoenix pot at tea gatherings as she hated to disappoint everyone who wanted to purchase it from her. It's not for sale but I can see the desire to add this beauty to one's collection. Even without the hand-painted artwork, the teapot is a well balanced Yixing ware with a classic shape. The dark purple clay feels supple to the touch and darkens considerably once it's fed water and tea.

More like a kingfisher than a phoenix, the bird theme is fitting for the Phoenix oolong without having to be too literal. The delicate colors and expressive line work is a lively contrast to the dark clay. Bold and sweet at the same time. There's skill in decorating teapots with this much color and keeping it all in the realm of good taste. Sadly, teapots of this caliber are much harder to come by in this day and age. No wonder everyone wants Winnie's.

Even in Winnie's dainty hands, her teapot looks tiny. In fact, I've never seen Michael use this teapot.I don't know that it would look right. It's not about the size, Michael's used smaller teapots for his ChiuJao GongFu Cha. I really think this is about the matching the teapot to the appropriate personality. There's a feminine beauty to Phoenix pot that seems to come alive with Winnie's graceful movements.

If there's a ever a reason to choose fine, porcelain for your tea, this is it. To see the effect of the light as it tumbles about in the cup, transforming tea into a glimmering treasure. And perhaps it was all in my mind, but the Phoenix seemed to taste richer for the company, the rain, the clay and the porcelain. A sweet, floral fragrance hovered over the table. I tasted hints of lychee and a rich, mellow honey that lingered after the fruitiness evaporated off the palate. A touch of astringence led to a cooling finish. Even as the rain let up and I shuffled back to my work, I could still taste the ghost of the tea getting sweeter and sweeter.