Reading the Tea Leaves

Winter, of course, is a dormant period; weeding continues, but not much else happens in most tea gardens.  Autumn’s harvest of Oolong (not so different from autumnal Darjeelings) produces fine teas.  What a welcome surprise, therefore, to receive a small collection this time of year, including some limited winter production teas.

It has become a challenging struggle to find restaurant-grade Oolongs that will wholesale for under $2/lb, the ceiling most restaurants expect.

A Shui Hsien Oolong, slightly better than the standard restaurant grade.

The previous post about dark Oolongs hurdled over middle range teas to the other end of the price spectrum, and I linger here a bit longer to consider a handful of lightly oxidized Oolongs from Taiwan.  Some are light in flavor; some are delicate but beguiling; none comes cheaply.

Light in in the cup, these teas are not light in price.

Part 2 of this series ended with a mention of Taiwan Pouchong (or Baozhong). Priced in the same range as the Wuyi Rock Oolongs described in the last post, the group of teas from Taiwan I describe here brew up pale colored cups.   These two groups are about as far apart as one might conceive and still fall under the heading of Oolong.

Pouchong - delicate with a lingering floral note.

As I noted in Part 1, Oolong became familiar to most consumers as the tea one is apt to be served in Chinese restaurants, even if they didn’t know it was called Oolong.  Retailers tell me that their customers are more aware of this category and many even know the two main subgroups.

The audience for these high-end teas is not large; there are aficionados who claim they drink nothing else.  But the numbers ($) are forbidding and formidable, barring a large following any time soon.  It could be argued however, that if one properly weighs in combination the cost of hand labor, the close connection between tea and terrain, and other production costs in Taiwan, the numbers are daunting but not unreasonable.

So, what do we get for these 3-figure per pound teas?

I limit remarks here to the lightly oxidized teas.  (Taiwan producers seem to prefer “fermented.”)  I continue to be surprised to find descriptions from suppliers noting that some teas, which I consider as lightly oxidized, are cast as “highly fermented” teas.  Most of the teas described below come from the qing-hsin (green heart) varietal; one notable and better known exception is the Jin Xuan (golden lily) cultivar, which at its best, displays a delectable aroma of cream. (This is the authentic Milk Oolong; be aware of those labeled as such but which derive that milky note from added flavoring.)

I don’t wish to appear too facile about this, but there does seem to be a neat correlation between elevation and price with this group of Taiwan Oolongs.  Lower altitudes do not necessarily mean lower prices, but teas growing on slopes upwards of 2000 meters are invariably high priced.

High elevation means cooler temperatures that foster slower growth, good light modulated by plentiful mists year-round, and also limited production.  Hand-processing, of course, also accounts for the premium paid for these teas.

Infused leaves from an Alishan tea; note how green and open the leaves are.

After TungTing Oolong (sometimes rendered Dong Ding), the best known Taiwan teas are identified with the mountains (shan) where the growing areas are situated: Ali Shan in Jiayi County and Li (Pear) Shan in the central part of the island. The elevation of the gardens are at 1300-1450 m and 2000-2200 m respectively.  Lesser known is Yu Shan (Jade Mtn.) where the plantations are found between 1800-2000 m.

Li Shan tea

As a group these teas brew a pale gold brew; the delicacy of the brew matches the soft elegant taste.  The very pale coloring in the cup does not seem promising at the outset.  The aroma and sweet notes are ephemeral, delectable but elusive; to me, this quality fairly compels one to sip again and again, to capture those subtle fruit and floral qualities that emanate solely from tea leaves.  The embellishment here lies in the processing that brings out what the leaf has to offer, not in added flowers or flavors.  No gilding needed here.

Li Shan tea in the cup - note how pale the brew is.

That characterization could apply to Pouchong too, a perennial favorite.  From the Wen Shan area of northern Taiwan (Pinling village), this very lightly oxidized Oolong is an eminently friendly tea, velvety sweet, mild and gentle.  Compared with those just mentioned, Pouchong is a low-grown tea; the price is also lower, if only on the scale of the teas discussed here.  (A good Pouchong is quite a bit more than a good TiKuanYin.)  I bring up Pouchong because its good flavor and relatively modest price tag bring into focus the conundrum of whether one buys mainly for flavor or for the name, say, an Alishan or Li Shan tea.

Pourchong: dry leaf on the left; on the right, after steeping.

When tasting some of the very high-grown and very high-priced teas, I find myself wondering: what am I missing? there must be more than what I am sensing here…given the lofty price.   I usually finish the entire cup, searching for more flavor.  If I hadn’t known the cost, would I have been as appreciative or reverent in my anticipation? Probably not, based on taste alone.  I can’t help but wonder if people who splurge on a Li Shan tea are in no small part basking in the assurance of their own good taste.  Placed side by side,  and tasting blindly, would most people choose the Pouchong over the Li Shan tea?  Granted, the more light-weight Pouchong will not yield as many infusions as the Li Shan (usually a sign for look for – how many flavorful infusions the tea will last…)  No doubt the rarefied growing area and more precise hand-processing justify the exalted price of a Li Shan tea, but does flavor alone justify the premium?

I highlight two teas here, one because it was a new find for me, and one because its deeper flavor makes it an outlier of sorts among teas in this lightly oxidized group.  None of these teas can be considered muscular or to show verve; after all, the processing is based on light oxidation. The best ones can be said to possess a velvety sweetness.

One property such teas should display is multiple flavorful infusions.  If you care for precision in such matters, bring water up to 100degrees C, using 7 grams per 250 cc of water. Let the tea steep very briefly for the 1st infusion, under one minute, a little longer for the subsequent infusions, and then enjoy the dynamic from cup to cup.  These are handmade teas, and one sign of good craftsmanship is the unfolding, literally and on the palate, of the flavor as more hot water poured.

Here is the Hong Shui tea; note how similar most of these teas look in dry form, expect the Pouchong. One must rely on a trustworthy suppliier as the the origin gardens.

A “Red Water” tea came came from the new winter (2011) crop, from the Nantou area of Taiwan, from which so many wonderful teas come.  The elevation of the tea growing area is around 1200m.

Leaves are mostly opened after the 1st infusion. Some Oolongs would only be partially unfurled at this stage.

The most striking feature was a deeply intoxicating floral, honey aroma that lingered in the finish.  Sitting about midway in the price structure of this group, this one was an immediate hit with all who sampled it.  Once sipped, the flavor fairly pops in the mouth — the fragrance was that distinctive.

Hong Shui in the cup

Look at the leaves after the 1st infusion below: they are only partially open, suggesting that a flavorful 2nd and 3rd infusion are likely:

My other favorite was a Honey Oolong, which made me think of a tea I’d purchased once in Flushing NY at a princely $315/lb (retail).  The deep tones of this tea goes beyond the friendly floral green Oolongs that have found such a wide audience.  Again, this is not a high elevation tea, grown “only” at an altitude of 1200-1400 m.

A "Honey" Oolong: again, it is not only prudent but imperative to sample a bit before buying. Unlike, say, a Dragonwell, the leaves of such a tea are not particularly distinctive looking.

Roasting is done by hand (see Da Hong Pao in Part 2 of this series), using traditional charcoal fires, with small batches rotated over a long period.  It is hard not to start sipping right away, but allow the tea to cool a bit and the honeyed notes become even more pronounced.

Light in the cup but aptly named: deep, cascading notes from this Honey Oolong.

I pass over several other teas quickly; none could be faulted, a couple of considerations made me hesitate in snatching them up: 1) steep prices; 2) mild taste (especially if viewed in terms of “bang for the buck;” and 3) too similar to what can be had from Anxi at lower cost.

Dong Ding (aka Tung Ting) 1000-1200m from the Nantou area, Four Seasons (300-400m, Nantou), Golden Lily (Jin Xuan) 600m, Nantou, and Oriental Beauty (1000m, Hsin Zhu) are less esoteric, and the range of prices in this group is friendlier.  The first three are accessible and easy teas; a good tasting exercise would be to compare these with comparably made teas from Fujian.  The fourth one, which I prefer as Silver Tip (Bai Hao) Oolong, is always lovely; the leaves are oxidized a bit longer and followed by more roasting time.  What has come as a surprise is how close this tea is, in taste and appearance, to a Himalayan Oolong that has become a recent favorite.

Da Yu Ling tea: don't be put off by the few stems that are visible; this is a common trait to some in this group.

And the Da Yu Ling in the cup — again, note how lightly colored it is:

Without the leaves in this cup of Da Yu Ling, the liquor would appear even paler.

Alishan tea is easily one of the best known Taiwan big-name teas.  From the green-heart cultivar, the mountain region is in Jiayi County.  Some teas are more roasted than others; I have found a slightly more oxidized, more heavily roasted tea to be more flavorful and longer lasting.

After Alishan, Li Shan (Pear Mtn.) is probably the next best known among followers of Taiwan teas.  Gardens are situated at a daunting 2000-2200m, and in this instance, high elevation is matched by high prices.  The brewed tea is almost colorless.  As one of Taiwan’s exemplary lightly oxidized teas, Li Shan tea is clean tasting, with a fine refreshing floral undertone.  To me, this was a very subtle tasting tea, without the deeper, recurring or cascading notes of the two I preferred.  As with some wineries, this is a tea one buys more for its name/label/geographic-cachet complex than for the flavor experience.

Da Yu Ling come from central Taiwan, and astounds with its formidable 2500m altitude.  One can easily picture historic natural forest at this elevation and year-round fog.  This is an expensive tea as production is small (photos above).

The next tasting I have in mind is to place these lightly oxidized teas from Taiwan next to those produced in Anxi in Fujian, just across the strait.  A quick check of history reminds us that the ancestors of tea growers in Taiwan emigrated to the island in the a couple of centuries ago.  If one goes back far enough, the lineage lines converge; the descendants, however, find themselves growing tea in different microenvironments, with processing methods refined and adjusted along the way.  Aside from some “prize-winning” TiKuanYins in Fujian that garner exorbitant prices each year, most teas of this type in China come at 30%-50% of the Taiwan teas prices.  A blind tasting will tell if the premium is borne out in taste and aroma.  In any event, I for one can still marvel at the variation on one theme that Oolong teas provide.