A Few Ways to Select a Tea

My First Wuyi and What a Ride!

Travel a scenic road and you never know what beauty awaits around the next bend. The same can be said of Meizhan Classic. It is full of surprises at every twist and turn. First, the dark and gnarly leaf sticks make music as they chime into the gaiwan. Water on the hotter side of Tea Hong’s suggested temperature range yielded a bouquet of violets growing on a wet forest floor.

The fawn-colored liquor in a cha hai offered a second aroma: the promise of a ripe melon before it is cut. Tasting the tea gave yet another impression of chocolate mocha and clear quartz with linen-crisp notes that stayed at the juncture of the nose and throat – is it a smell or a taste or both?

Subsequent infusions with slowly cooling water made Meizhan Classic a pure study in texture. Along with the faintest impression of field clover, this Wuyi delivered a joyride of round, buttery, creamy, silky indulgence. The journey ended with the pleasant appearance of the infused leaves, which unfurled into full, unbroken foliage accented with tinges of dark purple.

Fenghuang Rou Gui is an exceptionally rare cultivar, and makes for a very intriguing experience for the seasoned dancong aficionado who has been around the block with many of the usual Shui Xian hybrids.

This dancong is incredibly creamy and smooth, with a velvety texture and an oily viscosity to it that quickly spreads throughout the mouth and coats the entire throat as I continue to work the magical soup down into my belly.

The evolution of flavors and textures is stellar; across the full session, there is much to appreciate in every sip, and as I continue to work my way through the tea, it’s hard to miss the “wow” factor that these leaves bring. This is seriously impressive.

The initial sensations remind me of freshly churned butter and heavy cream infused with a touch of sweet cinnamon; it’s soft and round with no discernible edges to it, and has a warming spicy quality. The mouthfeel is doughy and chewy, like freshly baked scones or shortbread.

As the silky-smooth buttery notes melt away on the palate, they reveal a gorgeous bouquet of florals which remind me of white magnolia and lilies – but not just the blossoms, I’m talking about the stalks and stems too. This is a very three-dimensional experience, with great depth and nuance in every aspect of the flavor profile.

The milky, flowery notes get stronger even half-way through the session, and are joined by a powerful and characteristic dancong minerality which adds a lot of texture to the mouthfeel. It isn’t aggressive, but adds a touch of sharpness that gently cuts through the smooth, buttery-like qualities initially perceived on the palate, leaving behind what is undoubtedly a vibrant and earthy note of ginseng with slightly tart undertones which remind me of hibiscus flowers and cherries.

Towards the end of my session, those fruity undertones start to rise to the surface of the flavor profile, carrying with them a distinct fruity sweetness that is seamlessly integrated with notes of ginseng root soaked in cinnamon oil.

My favorite part about this tea is just how complex the mouthfeel is, and how much it changes over the course of a good, focused session. If you are a fan of the Jiang Mu cultivar, you don’t want to miss this one, it will certainly elevate your appreciation and understanding of Fenghuang dancong.

I compared this against 2 other GABA oolongs (which were more expensive) and this one was a clear winner.

I don’t like GABA oolongs. They give me headaches. I’ve tried a lot over the years, and for me personally, it’s not a pleasant experience. Most of them taste like dirty socks and get overshadowed by some kind of citrus-acidic funk. Pretty much all of the GABA oolong I’ve had in the past tastes like a fermentation project gone wrong – a miserable failure disguised as a “new processing technique” – but I’m not getting any of that from this specific GABA oolong.

This flavor profile of this oolong makes sense in the larger context of oxygen-deprived processing environments, where reduction chemistry becomes the dominant driving force behind the molecular transformations of leaf constituents, rather than oxidative transformations as guided by polyphenol oxidase & peroxidase. IYKYK.

The characteristic flavor profile of GABA oolongs somehow seems different with Tea Hong’s version. Instead of some dirty-sock, wet-stored pu’er flavor profile, I’m getting something that is reminiscent of orange creamsicles and fresh-baked sourdough bread with some spices dusted over the top of the loaf. There’s some underlying fruitiness that reminds me of goji berries and sweet citrus peel.

This tea showcases itself is a flavor-forward, refined, and nuanced oolong, something that I didn’t think was possible with GABA oolongs. It definitely responds very well to being brewed Western-style rather than gong-fu style.

This tea responds very well to being brewed out slowly. Don’t expect multiple, subtle layers of flavor moving across each other in a focused gong-fu session… expect a flavor-bomb brewed out Western-style. This tea resists turning bitter, and continues to release flavor into the soup for longer than you might expect. Push these leaves until the very end – it won’t turn bitter.

One of the best GABA experiences I’ve had. Thoughtful, refined, and focused where it needs to be.

Clean Summer Air after a Thunderstorm

This tea found me. So I paid attention. Opening the bag revealed the aroma of grandmother’s kitchen on baking day. The brewed tea morphed from comforting to purifying — it truly has a broad range. There is a crispness to it that reminds me of the lightest sandalwood incense wafting from afar. I am on my third infusion and it appears the tea can steep for quite a long time with no bitterness. The taste evokes for me the cleansed and cooled air after a summer thunderstorm. The leaves bloom into perfect green foliage which I imagine look exactly as they do when they are freshly picked.