Reading the Tea Leaves

As I tasted a newly arrived sample of Green tea, I was curious about how the tea got its name, AnJi White Green.

Most White teas don’t look white.  Here before me was a Green tea that looked white (more on this below).

In the specialty tea industry, defining White tea is a work in progress.  Consumers who are fond of tea no doubt know that White tea is minimally processed, this consideration perhaps being foremost behind their decision to buy White tea.  They probably know too that Green tea is “unfermented,” although a more accurate description is unoxidized.  But how many are aware of or care about the difference between White and Green teas?  This is a distinction that rests on the processing method, not on the raw material, not the plant or even the varietal.

So to come across a tea whose name in Chinese is White Green tea seemed to me confounding at first.  But once I saw the tea, it was very much a Green, as defined by its processing — obvious from its very appearance.  The “white” in the name comes into play for another reason, which became obvious once I

Anji "White" Green tea: dry leaves

brewed the tea.

In dry form the leaves were slender and straight, almost needle-like, and quite green — just the shade one would expect.  But once hot water was poured and after a brief few minutes, the wet leaves faded to a much lighter celadon hue.  This was quite dramatic, at least to me.  Usually leaves turn darker after steeping, not lighter.

I was also informed that this was a “new” tea, as in recently developed, not just fresh from the latest season’s harvest.  This last meaning, of course, should apply to teas, especially Green teas.  Then there is “new” as in New White tea, a type of White that dates back to the early eighties, fairly recent as far as teas go, and New White is its name in Chinese.  The sample before me was also a “recent” strain, developed around 1982.  Again, in the context of tea’s history, nearly thirty years still puts this tea in the “new” category.

This “new” comes from the northern slopes of Tian Mu Mountain.  Rich soil, generous light and moisture from mists at this elevation make for ideal tea growing conditions.  Tian Mu is famous for another Green, and the province of Zhejiang is a powerhouse where Green teas are concerned, with the added benefit of a thriving, active Tea Research Institute.  Graduates holding degrees in agriculture consider a position there as a plum assignment.

Infused, leaves turn "whitish" green

More specifically the tea is associated with the county of AnJi, well known for the lush bamboo groves that thrive there alongside streams and waterfalls.  I have been informed that locals there happened upon the tea plants by chance, and the strain was subsquently developed.  Judging by its prominence now, there was a good job of promotion of this tea as well.  And perhaps deservedly so, given its unusual and gradual change of color: the leaf buds begin as a soft gray before Tomb Sweeping in early spring (Qing Ming), turning a pale green by mid April and eventually deepens to a darker green.  Its short harvesting period also lends the tea some distinction as a rare tea.

Budsets easily seen in wet leaves

As I noted earlier, the dry leaves were uniform, very striking, and pretty.  Not many teas have this beautifully neat regularity.  First, the high standard is set with very precise plucking, and repeated hand sorting throughout the later steps in processing ensure this result.  There is good technique behind the polished, finished effect.

Dry or wet, the leaves are photo-worthy.  Produced in limited quantities each spring, each kilogram contains some 60,000 budsets (bud and one leaf), and the tea has achieved some renown in China as a wise choice when gifting VIPs.

The wet leaves showed long, narrow, straight tips and budsets, about 2.5 – 3cm in length.  True to the tea’s name, the wet leaves surprised me with hues of white underlying the pale celadon color.  For me, there was certainly no predicting this outcome from looking at the dry leaves.  This is a Green well suited for a glass mug or pot, to better appreciate the leaves.

I learned a bit later that Chinese descriptions compare the whitish shade of the white leaves to white jade or to lard. The smooth feel and gloss of white jade has long been prized.  The allusion to lard might be off-putting to us, but lard connotes richness and bounty in a peasant society where meat was rarely part of the daily diet, showing up on tables only on festive occasions.

The cup itself was a gentle Green, with a pronounced lively flavor, softly herbaceous rather than astringent.  The brew was clear and bright, with the pale color of straw.

I continue to research this particular strain, and have been advised that its peculiar color transformation is due to the strain itself, not to any special steps in processing.  Having said this, however, this tea offers a wonderfully instructive example - a reminder that it is the processing method that determines the tea category, not the tea strain. (The very leaves from the Big White [Da Bai] bushes in Fuding used to make White Silver Needles also get made into Green tea.)

The conceit behind the marketing of AnJi tea is that here’s a tea that looks white but turns out not to be a White tea.  Of course, once one remembers the first principle (all tea categories come from one plant), then novelty aside, the real and justified basis for interest in this tea bcomes apparent.