I always encounter this problem when finishing off a tin of good tea: I scoop out enough for my serving, and then realize that there is just a teensy bit of leaf left at the bottom of the tin. It is never enough for a single serving, so I'm left in the dilemma, do I finish it off and risk drinking tea that is too strong (how sad for my last encounter with such a great tea!), or do I leave it for some time that I feel like just a sip of tea (not likely), or do I settle for two very small and unsatisfactory servings? Or should I throw away some perfectly good leaves?
I always opt to finish off the tin, and always end up with a horribly bracing brew. I never seem to learn this lesson, but can't bring myself to throw out good tea, either.
The scrap tea of the day is a simply amazing oolong from my new place of employment, Teance Fine Teas called Cold Summit Tung Ting from the Tung Ting/Dong Ding mountain in Taiwan. I'm always on the hunt for a good medium-light roasted oolong with just enough heat to enhance the creamy carmel notes without destroying the innate floral sweetness.. but not too flowery either. Not that I'm picky.
I've never been blown away by a Tung Ting, until this tea came along. It actually displaced Baozhong as my favorite Taiwanese oolong! While baozhong is floral, fruity, and buttery, it has a very green edge. Cold Summit is slightly more oxidized and roasted I think, which makes it more balanced. The scent of the dry leaves smelled of fresh-baked pastries, roses, and sweet incense. I'm actually speechless to describe a tea, which rarely happens! Soft, round, sweet, and substantial. Creamed honey and orchids linger on your palatte, but the tea is always unassuming.
Unlike some oolongs, it is not a one-note band, nor is it a dramatic orchestra. It's more like a violin solo that drifts through the chaos, breaks your heart, then haunts you forever.
Like so many good teas, the high notes that make this tea great are transient. Upon opening my pack of tea, the full flavor only lasted a couple weeks. Fortunately, I needed little encouragement to drink this tea quickly, and managed to go through two 2-oz. bags in about four weeks. Doesn't sound like a lot, but for a tea-jumper like me, that's probably a record for the most of one tea I've ever drank in a short period of time.
That's also why this scrap tea is such a sad psychological barrier for me. Sitting next to my laptop is my overly-full gaiwan. I just made it through four unsatisfactory steeps, but I persist. Because throwing it out would be even more heart breaking than tasting this tea in the first place.
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I must confess, I love young green puerhs. I know that hard-core puerh drinkers are supposed to prefer the 15-year+ aged green puerhs, but I just like the fresh-from-the-forest taste you get in younger pu's.
Actually I'm still
cultivating my palate for the really old green pu's, which I find
tasty but really potent. They are full of wisdom and complexity, but it can be overwhelming for the uninitiated. Old cooked/black puerhs are fine for me though; it's just the green ones for some reason. On the other hand younger green cakes are
bright and transparent. Sometimes they can be overly aggressive in
their youthful enthusiasm, but it's endearing. Kind of like the puppy dogs of the tea world. See the Tea Notes section
for some of my recent puerh enjoyments.
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Amusements of the day:
1) How to brew "the perfect cup of tea"--except that it's from a teabag: http://www.bigelowtea.com/about/bigteav.cfm?video=6
2) Uptons sells a tea which comes from the Oliphant Estate! I think they should market it to Lord of the Rings fans.
http://uptontea.com/shopcart/item.asp?itemID=TC47&from=search.asp
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3.1.08 | My humble tea table
When I moved down to California, I reduce my worldly belongings to four suitcases, not including my old Corolla stashed away at my parents' house, and a punching bag lent indefinitely to a friend. Looking in those suitcases, you could easily discern what was important to me in life. Priorities included hiking (my hiking backpack, sleeping bag, and hiking shoes took up the better part of a bag), martial arts (including all my notebooks on martial arts, and a heavy book entitled The Wing Chun Compendium), and, of course, tea.
For my first month in town, I crashed at a friend-of-a-friend's house. my host probably wondered what sort of nutcase she was housing as I unpacked tin after tin of tea, tea cups, infusers, and even an electric kettle and set them up in her kitchen. She didn't even see the cakes of puerh or the yixing pots that were hiding in my bags, carefully wrapped in t-shirts.
Winter clothes I could jettison or have my parents ship later. But you never knew when you might need a good pot of 20 year old aged tikuanyin, or your yixing pot to brew up some alishan oolong.
Now that I've found a more permanent location renting a room from a little Chinese lady who unfortunately drinks Lipton tea, I've been able to create my own tea corner in my room, my own little oasis in a chaotic and bustling city:
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5.16.07 | Wow I haven't posted in a long time
My need to blog about tea has significantly decreased since I started working at a tea shop, since I now talk about tea and drink tea with fellow tea lovers all day long! However there are still days when serving tea loses some of its sparkle and I let the job become just work. It can be hard to be a perky tea server face all the time if I don't feel it.
Here’s a story that struck me deeply, as paraphrased from the book Liquid Jade:
A tea farmer invited the Japanese tea ceremony master, Sen no Rikyuu, to his house for tea. Nervous and excited that the great master accepted his invitation, the tea farmer’s hands trembled as he prepared the tea, dropping the tea scoop and knocking the tea whisk over. Some of Rikyuu’s disciples snickered at this, but at the end of the ceremony Rikyuu ignored them, saying to the farmer, “It was the finest.”
His disciples were confusesed and later asked Rikyuu why was he impressed with so shameful a performance. Rikyuu in turn said, “He devoted himself completely to making a bowl of tea for me, not worrying about errors. I was struck by that sincerity.”
I serve tea to hundreds of people every week, and not every customer is a pleasure to serve. The tea clientele seem to be a generally friendly and pleasant bunch, but there are a few customers who, if I served their tea honestly, I would pour their tea over their heads.
Can a person serve with the tea farmer's sincerity 100% of the time? probably not, or if so, they are a much better person than I. You can't always let your feelings at the moment control your actions--that would be catastrophic. But when I keep that mask on too long, it starts to take over. I feel false, and I think that that shows through in the service, and perhaps even the tea. I rob the customers of the service they deserve, and I rob myself of the joy of serving with a joyful heart.
As I finish up my time at the teashop, I'm going to try to keep that tea farmer as inspiration, serving with joy and serving with sincerity, whether it be an uber high maintenance customer or a modern day Sen no Rikyuu.