Quantcast
Channel: Cwyn's Death By Tea
Viewing all 300 articles
Browse latest View live

First, and Last Thoughts

$
0
0
This is an epitaph. You are reading the last blog of a tea-head. For I am in the last stages, and I intend to die by tea.

Most drinkers of aged tea write about the complexity involved in choosing puerh tea to keep for the long haul. I don't have that kind of time. All of my tea will either outlive me or I will have drunk it all up. As such, I have an agenda, and this agenda is not to educate people about tea, or about teaware, puerh, Yunnan, or anything else. Other people are doing these things, and rather well, and so the legacy from those before me is that I get to buy and drink the best possible tea.

And I need to hurry. The medication list for my chronic health conditions is getting longer by the year. I am aging faster than my tea. Almost done for. What would you drink, if you know the sum and total of your remaining days? Most appropriately, here is "Last Thoughts" 2014 by White2Tea.

Last Thoughts 2014, by White2Tea
 Now, if you know this cake, you also know what it costs. An absurd sum of $435.50. This alone has the vast majority of tea bloggers choking on their 7542. With good reason. Most people I know have other things to spend money on. Such as children.

One blogger I enjoy reading is Hobbes the Half-Dipper, especially because of the wistful photos of his young children, taken from behind them, as if already yearning for that delicate toddlerhood slipping so quickly away. In fact, I tend to remember the photos of his children better than the actual teas he writes about. Saving money for one's children is a righteous act.

But let me tell you where it all eventually goes. Child grows, goes to college, graduates from college and you get this:
Dear Son
That's right. Unemployed college graduate child sits in front of computer all night long. Sleeps all day.

What else in life can I check off my list? PhD, checked. Long and interesting career, checked. Nice house, checked. Designer clothes that no longer fit, checked. Absurd number of years spent in celibate monasteries, checked. Equally absurd number of years spent in non-celibate bedrooms, checked. Travels to exotic destinations, checked. Famous on the stage? Done that. Art shows? Yep. Play stringed instrument in orchestra? Check that, married the cellist, birthed a bassoonist together, and cellist now plays elsewhere. Oh, and advanced math too? Love it. Kanji? Bring it on, am learning.

Last Thoughts is a purchase of a life well lived. Yes, it's a concept, not a cake, but White2Tea promises in few words that this cake will be worth my bucket list. Smells nice enough, hate to break it up, but I go look again at photo of Dear Son Above and hell yes I crack into it.
Autopsy Tool
Eight grams into a gaiwan, my cup serveth 125 ml at tip top, just slightly under that. Rinse, first steep clear. I am braced for bitterness but the first steep tastes light. I can smell the fruitiness of young puerh and am expecting the usual apricot in subsequent steeps, but I get two notes above that: white grapes. No smokiness whatsoever, have to remove my glasses to spy any specks of char in the strainer. Tea is very thick, you might be able to spy tea bubbles dried in little circles  on the sides of the gaiwan. The photo here shows the fourth steep.


Fourth Steep, Leaves barely unfurled.
Fifth steep. Dear Son manages to get out of bed in the middle of the afternoon to interrupt me with his Younger and far Wiser self. Forgot that 5th steep in the gaiwan, returned to find a thick, yellow and very bitter brew. Nice! Dug out some leaves at this point, they have barely begun to unfurl.

The whole of Life: buds, tiny leaves, grown-ups, old farts.
Later in the evening, I return to my gaiwan for more steeps. The leaves now are coming out of the top of the gaiwan and I need a toothpick to stir the lot up from the bottom. Bedtime and this tea is past 15 steeps and isn't done yet.

And neither am I.

When I bought this cake, I didn't know that TwoDog hails from my state of Wisconsin. Somehow that chokes me up when I think of it. Really means a lot that the cake behind my narrative is sourced by a fellow Badger. So much I have needed in my life comes from Wisconsin. If a month goes by I don't post here, I hope that someone will know to pin the Last Thoughts wrapper to my tombstone, along with the epitaph

She Steeped it Out.


Giant Steps 2012, or Do you have a Plan for Your Stash?

$
0
0

Giant Steps 2012 by White2Tea
Just like Last Thoughts 2014, White2Tea's Giant Steps 2012 cake is part of my overall "Death by Tea" plan. I also chose it for the wrapper. For a very good reason.

Not long ago, MarshalN wrote "Drink Your Tea Now" on 4 April 2014, after he was asked to evaluate a man's stash for estate purposes (scroll down his blog to see Part 1 first).  Turns out the dead dude left a rather sizable number of puerh cakes, many of which had never even been cracked open. MarshalN took time to reflect upon the care with which the collector had gathered and stored all this tea that the recently departed fellow never tasted. This dead guy blog posting put me on pause. Time to face facts. For unless I want to become this dude, leaving a tea closet full of cakes I've never tasted to relatives who know nothing about tea, then I need a plan.

First Plank of the Plan: anyone looking at my stash after my official demise will know right now, with absolute certainty, that I will be gazing upon you in full-on tea jones and you will be haunted from the grave if you toss my tea. Yes, I plan to rise on the last day, and when I do I will first have lunch at Wisconsin River Meats, and then I will be looking for my stash. Count on it.

Second Plank of the Plan: don't buy any tea for the purposes of aging. Everything must be drinkable now. With the one exception of Giant Steps. Well, and possibly Amerykah 2014, but that's another story. For I will be drinking up my stash until it kills me.

Third Plank of the Plan: get an insurance policy. In the event of leftover tea, make sure those who will be getting their hands on my stash have reason to to keep it. This is wise advice, because anything stashed away in America with paper wrappings covered in Chinese kanji brings images to mind of Walmart and BPA plastics. Any Badger of good moral character who gets whiff of my stash is likely to don a hazmat suit and order a dumpster immediately. Are you thinking "this will never be my situation?" If you haven't read MarshalN's post by now, go read it.

In my case, the insurance policy involves currently unemployed Dear Son, posted on my last entry behind his computer. He is an only child, and unless he goes first then he will be the one to deal with my tea stash. How am I to make sure he doesn't just toss the whole lot? This is when Giant Steps becomes brilliant. Giant Steps has a wrapper that is covered with Saxophones. Dear Son doesn't play a saxophone, but he does play a Bassoon. That would be one of these:

Bassoon, at art.philipmartin.info
He even plays one that looks like bathroom plumbing.

Contrabassoon, photo by wikimedia.org
A saxophone and bassoon have one thing in common: they both require reed cane taken from a plant that looks like bamboo.
Arundo Donax, source wikipedia.org
Now, dear Son is a professional bassoonist and loves his Arundo Donax. Surely if he sees a tea cake with a reed cane instrument on it, he will keep at least that ONE cake and possibly think twice or thrice about the rest of the stash. I also have another idea in mind. Reed cane can be purchased in tubes.

Bassoon Tube Cane by gonzalezreeds.com
Do these remind you puerh drinkers of anything? How about tea stored in bamboo...

Ripe shoo in bamboo, photo by internetove-stranky.com
Now if I can get my hands on some tube reed cane, and stuff some loose mao cha therein, surely this along with Giant Steps is a sufficient insurance policy.

Only one caveat remains, and that is having to keep this cake intact. I cannot drink it. Except maybe a teensy, weensy lil sip is righteous, a way to taste myself into the afterlife, similar to Last Thoughts. It's a young tea. Here goes hurtling into the abyss.

Giant Steps in mummy wrapping, carefully now...
5 grams into the gaiwan, a bit less than half my 125 ml tea cup, so maybe 60 ml water. After all I'm just doing a tasting, not a full on tea drunk.
Tea 'Gator gets him some Arundo Donax reed cane
I get a little of that apricot smell and taste on the first steep, but the liquor is yellow and lemony. Subsequent steeps bring on the light lemon citrus. I've given up straining White2Teas, you won't find much char worth measuring and hence very little smoke. Gotta go elsewhere for that. Tongue-numbing buzz to the tea. This stuff would be good before visiting the dentist.

Fourth Steep, Giant Steps 2012 by White2Tea
Didn't do too great a job prying off leaves, the cake isn't terribly compressed and a lot of sticks got into my cup, along with the buds.
Cake is described by White2Tea as a blend.
The leaves want to stay on the cake. As they should.

Requiescat in Pace.


The Out Law of Bad Tea

$
0
0
Lately I've been feeling a little cheated.

I drink so darn much good Puerh tea. Did you read about the previous two cakes in my blog? Outstanding. How on earth did I find those cakes? Easily. Using a computer, I went to a website and clicked Add to Cart. Then I hit a Button called Checkout. Two weeks later, the order arrived at my door, with samples of MORE great tea, and even a cute little note. How swell is that?

So where is all the Bad Tea everyone talks about? Everything I drink is awesome. Blog posts, reviews, forums, emails, my Inbox is full of more great tea than I can possibly buy and drink before I pass on. Fabulous tea friends mail me boxes of their best. And yet other people's blogs are full of bad tea, complaining about how awful the tea is nowadays, too expensive, holding the porcelain after a particularly bad session, chewing aspirin for a tea headaches, ruined stomachs, bad kidneys, angry anti-tea spouses and dead cats.

To make things worse, all the Bad Tea is completely unobtainable. Although I've had things easy acquiring all the wonderful teas I now possess, it's been hell trying to track down the really bad cakes. Every time someone writes about a Bad Cake, a Fake Cake, a completely Undrinkable Cake, it is always sold out. What's up with that? Or it's a cake somebody found in a dirty, smelly tea cafe in the impossible and unknown reaches of China. In other words, someplace I can't get to.

Where is all the poop tea? Or how about bug tea? Always at some tea convention I can't possibly attend. Someone just wrote about Chinese rat poison cigarettes. Where is this stuff when I need it? Can't all the Good Tea just go away for 5 minutes, so I can get my hands on a really offensive puerh before it sells out or before I'm dead! Seriously I'm going broke on good tea, there is so much of it, but the Bad Cake just continues to elude me.

Finally, to top it all off, nobody can help me. Scott, Twodog, Garret, Arthur and the rest all have great tea. Tea forums? Well, Allan is occupied with shipping issues. Mrmopar, alas dear fellow, has a funeral to go to. His cat Chairman Meow who helpfully handpicks teas has been particularly sleepy of late, and shipping a cat to my location is a problem. My new friend Y had her credit card hacked on a tea site. Tea Fairy is in the celestial stratosphere of heavenly tea. The Oolong Owls are occupied, perching upon packet after packet of Korean Sejak...I say, these good people are busy. I could ask James at teadb.org, but he has spent months suggesting the best possible teas for me; 'twould be lacking in grace now to ask for advice about godawful bad tea.

Unfortunately, I must blaze my own trail to find a particularly horrible tea. EBay seems like an obvious slam dunk to find a Bad Cake. First, I need to find the most sleazy-sounding seller I can. Luckily I find the scratch I need in the seller "streetshop88" at his store called "Goshopstreet." Hell yeah. Next, I need to find the worst possible tea cake name.

All of a sudden...I Saw Him Standing There.


Immediately I was swayed by the superficial exterior good looks of his wrapper. I swooned at the perfect pattern of his teaHarmony profile. More than 10 of him available too! Other alluring attributes:

Overlord: Finally, a teaking who is a Real Man. Go away young buds. He'll give me what I need.

400 grams for $36.98. He's sooo big and costs so little.

Drunk: Needs no convincing.

Aged Tree: Lie to me. I promise I'll believe...

2011 and Raw: Spank me good young thang.

Organic: Uh huh. Sure. Whatever.

Free Shipping: Sold.

Can he live up to the hype, all this build up? Oh I can't wait to find out.
Velvet Pillows and Oils are always a good idea
 Time to undress, the sticker is all pretentious but doesn't take much to remove it.
I'm attracted to knives made with Stag Horn and Curly Birch
Double wrapped with white boxers, so modest, what is he packing?

So Shy
Or, more to the point, where is he really from? Tiepai me up, tiepai me down. Who is taking more liberties with the language now, me or that wrapper?
To be or not to be, that is the question.
Loose compression, almost a full session's worth has broken off the sides, I use my fingers to massage a little more off the edge.
Buck nekkid
The wrapper has 2008 on it, maocha pressed in early 2012? But I don't believe what I see on the exterior, it's what's on the inside that counts. This looks hardly aged at all. Plus he's loose; he'll go fast so I better be ready. I think I want him in my pot and not in my gaiwan.

8 grams in my overly large Yixing pot. The cup is 125 ml to the top, so between 100-125 ml is fairly normal for me with this teapot. First cup looks smoky and orange, giving credence to the wrapper that this is stored maocha.
Give it to me
One rinse, I brace myself for bitter, smoky and over the top. Lately I've mostly gone in for older ones put up wet, am suddenly feeling a bit gun shy. Age and treachery always win out over youth and vigor, and I'm the aged one so bottoms up, old gal. Surprisingly not too bitter. A bit of buzz on the tongue. Second steep much more bitter. Smokiness confirmed, but not terribly overpowering. Got the leather going now. A bit of astringency but not tooth drying.

Six steeps in and the smokiness is gone now and the liquor turns more yellow. He's fairly full in the mouth and he tastes a bit citrusy. Ten steeps and my water is getting cool. He wants to quit before I do. Might let him rest a few hours, and then wake him up again with boiling water to find out what else he has in him. Anything more to this mix of chop, a few leaves and buds?
Live fast, love hard, die young and leave a beautiful memory
Those early cups remind me of my 2005 Menghai tuos. I own a 2008 Menghai tuo I bought from chawangshop, and could do a direct comparison. But even without doing that, based on my 2005 Menghai, the loose compression of this maocha won't hold up as long as the tightly wound tuos shaped young. My Menghai tuos leave me completely tea drunk and draped over the bar with my tongue hanging out. Right now I'm satisfied but not sated. A few more years of age on this loose plantation guy will improve him a little if he quits smoking, but I expect he'll fade out early.

Wait. This really isn't the truly Bad Cake I was searching for. I paid what, $36 and change? Seriously, I can do worse for a one-nighter with a guy who is or isn't what he says he is. And I can do better, and feel more grateful on my next date with a real Menghai man.

Requiescat in pace.







The New Soft Shou

$
0
0
Around the time Johnny Cash died, I was serving a stint as artistic director of a theatre company that performed original works. I'd written a play about Gram Parsons for the company as a potential play for the 2003 season. Then I got invited to perform in a Gram Parsons tribute concert at the Old Towne School of Folk Music in Chicago. By coincidence, I also knew a guy B who had met Gram Parsons one time at a party back in the early 1970s, and B too had been a hippie country singer in California. I asked B if he'd be interested in playing the tribute, and I also invited another hippie friend DW to video the whole thing.

So my friends and I worked up a few songs for the concert, which ended up not one of our better shows. We made the mistake of being under-rehearsed, and the concert hall made the mistake of providing us with Jack Daniels. On the trip home we followed up with some weed, which birthed one of my bright ideas for a short cut, "hey, let's avoid the tolls!" We ended up lost and peeing in an abandoned warehouse parking lot. I don't think about Gram Parsons much anymore if I can help it.

But lately Gram's song keeps playing in my head uninvited when drinking shou puerh. For in the very same year of 1973-74 when Gram recorded his "GP" album, the Menghai and Kunming tea factories were humming away inventing the Wo Dui process of "cooking" tea, to shorten the time needed to simulate "aged" puerh.

"It was forty or fifty years ago
A big shot played played with time.
Mister Walker held the door
And kept both cord and line.
Watched and checked on every single day
Building his own special cars
His very special way,
Ooo the new soft shoe.
Ooh the new soft shoe."

Got this song on my brain even more now, ever since a friend on Steepster asked me to check out a seller called "dzpuer" on Taobao. He likes to call himself Dr. Pu'ertea. Dr. Purty? Now this particular seller can been found on a list of Bad Guys who sell fake factory plantation cakes. Whoops. Well, I don't have any interest in buying plantation cakes, although I'm reminded that Gram Parsons grew up on a plantation, and his mother's family grew wealthy growing oranges on Florida plantation groves. Ain't nothing wrong with plantation goods so long as everybody gets paid what they should. Can't really fake an orange after all. Fake tea cakes though, now that's real soft shoe selling. 

Still I rather admire the logo dzpuer has created for his business, a dzpuer/dizzy puerh tea-drunk nerd with tea leaves coming out of his head, and woozy eyeballs that look like glasses.
Here's looking at you, kid
Dizzy makes no special claims about his own house label tea, and in fact describes some of his cakes as third grade leaf geared toward working people who need inexpensive tea. In other words, daily drinker tea, not collector's tea. Maybe ole Dizzy is indeed a sleazy seller of factory cakes, but an honest one about his own label.

"And then walking down a southern road
I saw a shoeshine stand.
A man was talking to a crowd
Holding slippers in his hands
Don't you know the same thing happens
Each and every day?
Did you ever hear a song
That's hard to even play.
Ooo the new soft shoe."
Ooo the new soft shou
This is a whopping 1 kilo brick of Dr. Purty's 2013 shou puerh tea which I bought for $21.75 plus shipping. I drink a lot of ripe but only have one cake at a time. I don't care if my shou is aged or made with nice leaves. In fact, my preferred way to take shou is grandpa style in a large, covered Yixing mug. Mostly I drink shou as a digestif, or to rebalance my body out if I've been trying young sheng.
Doorstop
Dizzy sounds like a used car salesman when talking about his 1 kilo bricks. He says you'll be sure to get attention from your colleagues when such a big brick of leaf arrives in the post at your workplace. You can justify it to them by dividing the brick up into daily drinking amounts and claim you'll go through it in six months. Plus, the brick has multiple uses. You can use it to knock out burglars. Dr. Purty guarantees the brick will dish out significant damage. 

"Then a color TV broadcast
Snuck in from New Orleans,
Showed me one more man who spoke
And wore bright blue and green.
When you saw him talk this way
Was when he showed his claws.
And spoke to people every day
Just to get applause.
Oooh the new soft shoe."
Ooo the new soft shou
Surprised to see the brick has a neifei in it, wasn't expecting anything near as nice as this. I'm not prejudiced against twigs in my tea. One of the decent teas I could find in the 1980s happened to be Japanese kukicha, drank that for years. Twigs need to be boiled, though. The brown wrapper on the cake is kept together with a genu-wine flour and water paste. I eschew the fannings and grandpa style and go for a chunk 'n gaiwan instead so you people can see. Didn't bother to weigh the tea. Got my usual 125 ml double walled Oslo glass.
Yep, two mesh strainers. Well, wouldn't you?
As you can see, very nice amber color. No fishy odors, but I can taste the wo dui just a bit like a wet canvas mail bag. I expect this; the tea is only a year old, and I didn't even bother to rest this brick after receiving it. What I notice immediately is how much more lively on the tongue this is compared to what I've been drinking. My one shou cake is a 2009 CNNP 7572, which has been mostly stored under the bed in a cardboard box for the past five years. While I baby my sheng teas far more than my felines, my one shou cake gets a treatment like a stray cat fed outdoors but never allowed in the house. Consequently, my usual shou cake is a bit flat now. Got a nice sweat and ear buzz going after 4 cups of the new soft shou.

Would I recommend this? Fantastic doorstop. To be honest, I think this is a good daily drinker, but for me coffee and shou are about the same and I don't put a lot of thought into either. This brick needs to be broken up and put in a crock for awhile to bring forth that sweet southern promise. I feel really good after this session, and that's all I need. For $21 and change, this is the Folgers of Shou. Go for it if you dare. But be careful of Dr. Purty's Plantation Dayis. Just sayin'...

Along with the New Soft Shou of your choice, have a listen to Gram and Emmylou Harris on the "GP" album. In case the song lyrics left you puzzled, E. L. Cord was a car builder. "Soft shoe" is a smooth, slickster dance shuffle by Mister "Walker," a lawyer who stole all of Cord's money. Gram said, "The song is basically about people getting ripped off."



Requiescat in pace, Gram






The Out Liar of Good Tea, or Your Big Zhong is Not Gay Enough

$
0
0
I don't play well with others. A delightful email in response to "The Outlaw of Bad Tea" brings out my Bad Behavior. (Identity masked to protect the Wicked).

On Wednesday, August 27, 2014, JM <xxxXXXxxxx01@gmail.com> wrote:

    My dear Cwyn,

    There's a dark allure in having a lover disappoint us. A puerh that always delivers and bend to our every whimsical wish is such a bore.
    Do not fret any longer my dear friend.
    My friends at reddit.com/r/puer and I have noticed your crys for a real puerh. A puerh that will unfurl it self in your little clean gaiwan and then leaves a dirty taste and sediment when it's done.
    There's a cretin puerh that I recently bumped into that I hear is quite a roller coaster of emotions.
    I was given the following description of this naughty sailor, "Well, it tasted like sucking muddy pond water through an old jute sack  that still contained some fish guts. And yet it was thin and had no body."
    This naughty puerh lives near me. If you like I can have him shipped to you for you to try. The cost and shipping will be on me, my friend.

Always yours, Fr0glips

    P.S. See the conversation we are having about you (towards the bottom). http://www.reddit.com/r/puer/comments/2ejjt0/puers_at_my_local_oriental_store/


Reply

 Aha, a possible candidate. First we need to make sure you're a Real Man. Send nekkid photos of you and said tea. If you're kosher, that's a plus (especially with rabbinic certification), but the tea doesn't have to be. I'm unable to tell from your note if you're fishy or the tea is fishy. Either or, the advice I got from a Chinese tea master applies, cold rinse followed by hot rinse.

Yours, Cwyn


Now, don't take the above email as an indicator of anything. For I don't want to discourage the Chicks from sending their potential Pic(k)s. I don't have any preferences myself, I will try anything at least once. If it's good I'll keep right on going.

After receiving this email, I couldn't help but think of the time I got booted from a doctoral program. Back then, the offending program was the Theatre Department. The wooden department Chair was one of the forerunners in Gay Theatre. She didn't like my generalist interest in theatre, but waited to tell me until after I defended my thesis, and after the first month of PhD classes. "Oh, I'm sorry nobody told you. But our interests and yours don't intersect. If you had an interest in political theatre, or gay theatre, we could work with you."

I thought I'd been clear that I didn't have preferences. Apparently, I'm not Gay enough. Or Political enough. My incorrect and punishable Fence Sitting eventually got an apology from the department years later, when somebody else facing the same situation in the dissertation phase decided to sue. I got the last word later on when, as a member of the Phi Beta Fraternity for the Professional Performing Arts, I was asked to present a scholarship to a student in that same theatre department. So I told the assembled audience in the auditorium what a unique pleasure it is to present a student cash award in the department that booted me out.

Had better luck years later in the Special Education department, the ultimate field for generalists who can teach anybody anything, with a minor in Quantitative Methods. Kept up my fence sitting applying Individual Differences scaling techniques to large sample data sets, skating the raging debate going on back then between constructivist, relativist paradigms and post-modern objectivism.

But my intellectual egalitarianism didn't keep me entirely out of trouble this time either, especially when I took a Philosophy of Science course with a Famous Professor of Statistics. He believed that nobody, himself included, was qualified enough to read original texts in philosophy, and instead required us to read secondary analytical sources. He didn't take it too well when I brought in Descartes, Spinoza and (gasp!) Hume's treatises on Human Understanding and proceeded to read aloud pertinent tracts during class discussion. The Atheist Famous Professor didn't really want to know that Hume was one of the greatest theologians of all time, but any teacher who tries to add an Eleventh Commandment of "thou shalt not read" will have it rammed down their throat. My bad behavior earned me a barely passing grade from him. But I also scored an appointment from someone else to the Honors Program teaching philosophy to freshman using original texts. I made sure to corner the Famous Professor in the elevator to ram it further and tell him how my students were doing reading Plato's Republic.

"This is why we're Adjuncts," said Kathleen, who'd hired me for the Honors Philosophy class. She had been through convent training too, not Once, but Twice. "We don't want to go through Initiation again."

Meaning tenure. Meaning your colleagues must like you and your very same exact thesis rewritten six times and published in six different journals purportedly as All-Original. And even better if you can spend $5 million of federal grant money from hard working tax payers in the process. Kathleen eschewed the rewrites and got herself hired in Administration, being rather more Gay where I am rather more Jewish. Even though she'd been through the Aquinas/Dominican grist mill of self-flaggelation, and I had been through the no-underwear Franciscan program, we still had things in common. In other words, she meant we are Out Liers, statistically speaking, or Out Liars, if you prefer a more literary and academic (hah!) point of view.

By now I've flummoxed a few of my readers, but perhaps not. Puerh tea attracts really, really smart people. Outliers. My own academic field is entirely about Outliers. I bothered with all of the above because I don't want you miss anything in my Satire. Because you're probably an Outlier yourself, and you already know that drinking puerh tea is an entirely relativist, and solipsistic experience. If you don't know that by now, you haven't read enough tea blogs. I'll hedge a bet though, and guess that you all probably remember the most important fact of Statistics: the Tea (T) Test of a Normal distribution was invented in a Guinness beer factory.

Nevertheless, allow me to proceed with an example, just to make my Satire a bit more clear...at the expense of resorting to the more teacherly side of things. I mentioned the pains of Tenure and Initiation. So imagine that someone like me is sitting in a tea committee with academic colleagues, professors, post-docs, other adjuncts and post-post docs. We are going to be reviewing the progress of the hottest topic/tea-pic at the moment. Coming off a tea drunk I almost miss the meeting, but my colleague James emails me "you'd better get over there quick to Tea Classico." I stub out my cigar in the car ashtray and head on in.

Tea Classico's 2003 CNNP 7542 Big Zhong. How can I resist a Big Zhong?
A Promising Bulge
I keep my mouth shut for now and let my colleagues weigh in with the usual epithets "traditionally stored,""slightly wet,""expertly aged," and "I'd better pick up a few of these." Actually, I'm distracted because my sample resembles something else entirely.

You can't make this up
Nobody knows what I mean when I say the strangely figurative chunk takes me back to my childhood.
surroundedbyimbeciles.wordpress.com
So proceeding onward to the tea budget-ry portion of the department meeting, I summarize all of my previous impressions and the Reason We Need Special Education with one parking lot photo.
You can buy this from samir23239 on Ebay
No argument from the committee because we are all in agreement that drinking puerh tea is entirely relative. Everyone exists completely in their own universe. Every single sample differs from every other, every palate is unique, every steep and every sip unlike none before. The truth of this rarely sinks in, even among the most brilliant of us. While we may all fully grasp the notion that a Bad Tea to one person may be a perfectly good tea to someone else, and a Good Tea to you may be another man's mucky pond water, none of us jump to the real Truth which is that in a relativist universe, no one can recommend anything to anybody else. And yes, this means that tea blogs are complete fucking rubbish.

Still, we all need to shop. We all need tea. So we mentally commit the Fallacy of Large Numbers by saying "Okay, these people think the 2003 CNNP 7542 from Tea Classico is good and worth buying." And we use this reasoning to go ahead and buy ourselves a cake or two, even though by the standards of complete and utter relativism in addition to the standards of logical objectivist reasoning, such a decision is totally baseless. Only the cry of agony from the tea jones of a hoarder puerh addict justifies the idea of thinking "well Cwyn thinks this tea is a good one, so I might as well buy it." Because we have to start someplace. Even though that Some Place is really No Place at all. Tea blogs are creative and fun, and yes we need a starting point for shopping, but the truth of an opinion is really a lie. Thus, we are out and Out Liars.

The only objective statement we can make, aside from a Tea Table being a tea table, is 8 grams in the Gaiwan and 125 ml boiling water with Two Rinses. In literary terms, I break the head off a Godzilla Big Zhong, and add my Mucky Pond Water which is not the same as your mucky pond water.
Ass portion
Some char in the strainer, and I find a strange looking pod as the very compressed sample opens up. The pod resembles a lentil on a stem, seems to have some kind of shell on it that started to open when the teacake was made.
Mothra?
I dig around in the gaiwan after finding the pod to make sure there is nothing else in the sample I might not want to consume. This opens up the sample prematurely, saturating steeps 2-5 and a red ring appears around the outside of my Oslo glass. This tea is so close already to turning over into aged tea, the darker red hue shows at the edges of the orange soup. Not terribly bitter behind the bit of smoke and slightly musty storage, but my throat is a little dry.
First Steep
Think I'll tiptoe out of the meeting of the tea academics for the moment and save the remaining steeps, and tea drunkenness, for a session back out in my car. I don't wanna go too far in turning a fine tea session into a typically "college" boxed wine drama by trying to make a young, cloudy tea Satire more clear, and less pithy, than it actually is. Hopefully you guys get the point and don't trouble yourself too much in trying to find me some Bad Tea. A taste of a Big Zhong with my fictional colleagues is enough to prove I'm still not Gay Enough already. So I'll sneak out now before I get myself into more trouble.

Besides, my cigars are out in the car.

Requiescat in pace.













The Death Book of '80s Tea

$
0
0

Really Old Tea
Tea Classico's 1980s Ying Ming Hao takes me back to my younger days exploring herbal teas and remedies. While my mother was Jewish, my father was a Catholic priest who spent his entire youth in the seminary. I followed suit with a similar education and so off I went to the convent. Spent my 1980s as a nun, and the Order invested a great deal into me, for which I'm eternally grateful and unable to fully repay. My thorough training at their hands started out with correcting my appalling lack of cooking skills.

Back in the 1980s, the nuns began to rethink their traditional German style farm diet when all too many aging nuns developed heart disease, diabetes and cancer. They followed the example of Thomas Merton, probably the most famous Cistercian monk ever, who traveled to Asia in the 1960s to spend time in a Zen Buddhist monastery, until his instant death in 1968 by pulling a metal electric fan chain while getting out of a Buddhist bathtub. Thomas Merton wrote and spoke extensively on meditation and other lifestyle practices he learned from monks in Asia in the short time he had before taking that fatal shower. In his opinion, eastern and western monasticism had much in common in terms of development, we all get the same results with different methods. But eastern monastics pay far more attention to their physical bodies in comparison to their western counterparts. Consequently, monastics of all types in the west began to examine the role of diet in the development of the spiritual life, how lighter diets support meditation practices, and heavier diets contribute to sluggishness and snoring in the choir.
Thomas Merton, OCSO, photo at pbs.org
My own convent had got to the point in the 1980s of having two food lines in the refectory. One was the regular German diet of roasted meat, starches and cooked vegetable, and the other was the "diabetic" diet, usually consisting of fish and a  "better" vegetable like steamed broccoli as opposed to canned green beans. When I visited last year, the refectory had finally changed the "diabetic" food line to "vegetarian." However, in the 1980s the nuns sent me to vegetarian cooking classes and to study at a meditation center with a Sufi master. Sufi is the mystical order of Islam, and you've probably read Rumi whether you know it or not. I continued to study with the Sufi master even after I left the convent for a total of ten years.

At the meditation center and the convent, I got a thorough grounding in herbal medicines, teas and chai. I gathered local herbs and grew familiar with everything from tonics to purgatives and even abortifacients. Read a lot of vintage herb books I can't even find anymore. I wish I could get the herbal chai teas we had back then. These were the original Yogi teas. The Yogi website history refers to the teas they provided to meditation centers in the 1960s-1980s, but unfortunately they don't show the photos nor seem to sell them anymore. Like puerh recipes, these teas had recipe numbers, such as 8 herb, 16 herb and 22 herb. The 8 and 16 herb chai's weren't too bad, they consisted of lots of sweet roots, barks and seeds like cinnamon, pepper, fennel and so on. The 22 herb was a bit obscene, too many mixed flavors as I recall.

Still I miss those teas. I look back Nostalgically to the days of scraping the inner bark off trees, scouting out wintergreen beneath the snow, working in the herb shop at the meditation center which was a repurposed old wooden post office. Rather my Brother Cadfael era, lived well before that show appeared on public television. The whole thing finally culminated for me at a high point of making Egyptian kyphi incense, in the full flower of my virgin maidenhood, a meditation on a night with a particular phase of the moon. While I no longer have any of the herbs or teas from back then, I still have a big jar of that incense which contains things like wine, honey, raisins, frankincense, myrrh and benzoin and must be burned on charcoal. Can't get myself to open this last jar nor throw it out. 80s teas might be in the same boat as this 80s incense, a curiosity but nothing worth pursuing.

My Virgin Incense, and other Relics
As far as I'm concerned, herbal "tisanes," as they are now called, are nostalgic and nothing more. My opinion on tisanes, biochemistry labs aside, is that they are virtually useless in treating any real disease. You won't get healthier, prevent cancer, have better babies nor cure any condition whatsoever with herbs. Probably the best use for herbs is to get stoned. For me, herbs are as antiquated as Death Books. 
Virgin Incense jar. 
Preparing for Death used to be a real business for Nuns, and for everyone in general. If herbs worked all that well, then people might have lived longer in the old days before modern medicine. As it was, children were far more likely to die before the age of 8. The lack of painkillers is a good reason to meditate on death ahead of time. People needed to prepare psychologically for the  "agonies" of death in a way we don't need to anymore. You could potentially ruin a whole life of good deeds and holy intentions by screaming obscenities at God in the pains of cancer, and end up in hellfire because the Lord will not forgive you. To avoid this, Death Books got you to think about your feet turning blue in advance so you can hopefully keep your wits about you as your entrails rot. "A good death and a perfect end, amen."

Luckily we don't need Death Books anymore, because we largely dodge the majority of people killers with antibiotics and other modern medicines. Herbs and puerh teas will not cure any condition nor provide much, if any, health benefit aside from what your body is already in a condition to do. You can argue this with me if you like, but I have pushed this limit. In my 30s I developed a tendency to kidney infections, a tendency inherited from my female relatives and I was late to that party, since my mother and sister had been dealing with kidney infections from childhood. With my background in herbs and meditation, I tried to power it out. The result was increasingly stubborn gram-negative bacteria that grew to resist one antibiotic after another, the ones I didn't develop allergies to, until I was down to ciprofloxacin, the end of the line before needing the hospital and a whole IV cocktail for every episode. A series of lifestyle changes, including slowing down, avoiding alcohol, harsh weather, bad sex, and drinking cranberry extract and a pot of green tea a day were all hopeful prevention measures. But truth is this: without antibiotics  I'd be dead. My own mother tried to get help from Chinese herbs this past year to treat diabetes and congestive heart failure and she is now dead.

So, don't try to power out health conditions using green tea nor any other herb. Get thee to a Real Doctor. I do believe green tea has helped as a PART of my regimen by keeping fluids going and avoiding worse stuff. I haven't had an infection for 8 years and the last was only 1 in 10 years. Still, drinking tea is now a lot more fun now than 17 years ago when I started putting green tea bags into a coffee maker basket. Nevertheless, I'm going to leave my herbs in the past where they belong and enjoy them as a memory while drinking a 1980s tea today, courtesy of a real herbal innovation called Internet Tea Shopping.

This assumes that Tea Classico's Ying Ming Hao is really 1980s. Who came up with this date? Going in I'm not going to assume that the purported age of this tea is going to give me an experience any better than da fine shit of White2Tea's 2014 Manzhuan, a real wife beater of a tea outside of a smoky Menghai tuo. But I'm willing to risk $25 and what's left of my kidneys to Tea Classico to find out.
17 gram chunk, before the jack hammer
5 grams in a 70 ml Yixing pot circa 1980s from Origin Tea. As of this writing, Tony has 3 of these teapots left. If you don't have an older Yixing, get over there and buy one for under $100. He has a 15% off coupon in place on the home page. Normally I'd use a gaiwan but I only have 20 grams of this tea in total and want to enjoy the experience.

Two rinses and the wet Hong Kong storage smell emerges. I aired the tea for two weeks and perhaps it should go longer. Always in a hurry to taste my teas. The color of the soup is red and brown for the first three steeps, mellowing to a dark brown from the fourth steep onward.
Second steep
Incredible mineral-ly flavor, and lively on the tongue and lips. No doubt Tony's  teapot is contributing to the mineral quality, which lingers long afterward. Going past the third steep, the storage mellows into a wet soil flavor and my mouth-feel is even more full of minerals. Ah, this wet soil of memory, if we'd had this tea no doubt the nuns could have thrown away the death books sooner than they did. To actually smell and taste six feet under, rather than just thinking about it. How much more rich a sensory experience puerh tea is! The soil we return to, the musty old post office herb shop, a green aged back to brown. I'll take my cup of the present day, and the wet dirt future and the minerals of past ideals when hope existed in cutting fresh green northern spring nettles mixed with a few tears and it's all good, all good. The cup and what's left on the tongue.

Tea Classico's early 1980s Ying Ming Hao comes in a large 400g beeng. I highly recommend it and of course I want more. But the cost? $325 and selling my Virgin Incense for a song.


Requiescat in Pace
Feast of Rose of Viterbo

The Doctor is Naka-erd

$
0
0
Chasing a good tea sometimes feels a little like Charlie Brown trying to kick the football. For those of you not familiar with American comic strips, Charles M. Schulz's "Peanuts" main character Charlie, a bit of an everyman-oaf, tries to kick an American football held by his neighbor Lucy. At the last second, however, Lucy pulls the football away, causing Charlie Brown to miss and fall flat on his back. Yet like Sisyphus perpetually trying to roll a rock up a mountain, Charlie Brown never learns. He continues to try and kick that football, and soon we know Lucy will pull it out of reach every time. If puerh drinkers are forever chasing the Incredible Tea Cake that must be out there someplace, then perhaps we are a bit like Charlie Brown always trying to get that football. Then I have to ask, who is Lucy?

Schultz offers another Sisyphean motif. In this recurring scenario, Lucy sets up a booth with a sign saying "Psychiatric Help 5¢ The Doctor is In." And Charlie always pays the nickel and Lucy gives cheap and often pithy advice every time. The message is that someone is always willing to dispense cheap advice, and always an idiot around who will fall for it. Sometimes Lucy isn't even there and Charlie Brown pays the nickel anyway. So, if puerh buying is a bit like forever trying to kick the football, or like putting a nickel in the jar hoping for advice that changes everything, then we are all Charlie Brown in a sense. And Lucy is the expert with an opinion for a nickel.

In a Relativist universe of tea, everyone has an opinion and no one's opinion is better than anyone else's. In that universe, we should all set up a Paypal link for people to pay a nickel. But if tea drinking is not an entirely relative experience, does this mean it's possible to be an expert? I've noticed how many people in the tea world stop short of using the word "expert." The idea of "expert" assumes that there is an objective set of criteria with which a person can become familiar, up to the point of claiming expertise. Perhaps expertise is something to read, like volumes of tea science, or philosophy, written by someone like a Thomas Aquinas with his forty volumes, and an expert is the person who knows those volumes inside and out, and has written a thesis and successfully defended a premise in a jury of peers who have also read the same forty volumes.

But what do we do in a Post-objectivist Puerh Universe if we don't have those forty volumes? Or if we do have those forty volumes, what happens when Thomas Aquinas wakes up one day after a bad bout of pneumonia and calls his own forty volumes "rubbish," as he most certainly did? What happened to Thomas is that a Vision of the most sublime kind convinced him that a Divine Experience reigned supreme over any rational proofs that he could devise. In fact, one could argue that familiarity equals experience, and an expert is someone who has simply consumed more divine tea than anyone else. At that point, wisdom or expertise becomes a function of time, and thus of age. Or, at the most wishful, an experience of luck, of Divine Intervention. If experience, age, and Divine Experience are the criteria for expertise, then I've got a nickel booth to sell.

My nickel booth most certainly is about Age, and my tea buying criteria has everything to do with my age. The main reason I will choose one tea over another is because I don't have as much time left as you young people. I want teas I can drink now. I can't wait for a hoard of plantation cakes to hopefully age into something drinkable.

To be completely honest, I'm mostly looking to get wasted on tea.

One of the reasons I love puerh tea is sometimes I get so utterly tea drunk that I think I'm 20 again. For an old lady like me, nothing beats a nap and 8 quick steeps to forget, at least for a little while, that physically I've turned the corner. I hoard any tea that gets me so completely delusional as to forget my white head of hair, the ridiculous number of medications I have to take, and my occasional incontinence. Some teas work better than others, and in this I might possibly have a suggestion. A couple of teas recently have got me stoned, high, dry-mouthed, and left with the munchies. Drinking this stuff isn't for pleasant company, it's for lying around and avoiding. Like any other addict, I don't want my supply compromised. I fear a run on these teas once the word gets too far.

Twodog2's 3rd tenet about tea is if you find something you like, then you better move and buy it in bulk quick, before the stash is gone forever. This is wise advice, but the problem is one of the cakes I like requires the sale of my first born. So I've been trying to pawn off my First Born on everybody I run into, including the plumbers working on my house last week, but so far no takers. The most promising possibility has been "if you'd asked back in May, we'd have taken him." So I'm stuck with wanting to buy more of a tea that I can't afford. However, my couple of months of research did yield me a few possible substitutes.

The cake I really like is white2tea's 2005 Naka. Now this tea is described on the website as providing "an uncommon body response of deep calm." No, I'm not going to help you by providing a link, go find it yourself. Or better yet, don't go. Leave that tea alone. TwoDog2 wrote me a short letter saying "this tea should come with a note saying 'don't operate heavy machinery.' The tea is pure drugs." And it most certainly is. In fact, I'd recommend it for writing your Essay on Human Understanding, which none of you really want to write, do you? Turning into a babbling idiot on purpose is wasted on anyone with lesser intentions, myself included. However, for writing something of lesser import, such as beginning a tea blog, it's a great tea to start anyone out.
2005 Naka by white2tea

With the experience of tea being entirely relative, with some possible Objective Universal Criteria floating out there in a foggy bog, I don't expect anyone to believe me, at least not without some kind of "objective" research. I've had at least 5 sessions with this 2005 Naka cake, and I've got an extra cake, just to make sure I have a stash put by. My sessions have been the usual 8 grams with 125 ml water, but I'm thinking of cutting back these parameters so the tea lasts longer. After all, a good 10 steeps is a good 10 steeps whether in a small teapot or a large one.
Front of cake, white2tea 2005 Naka
To get another opinion, I mailed a sample of this tea to someone else, somebody whose palate and tea writing I respect. And who is less of a stoner than I am. He was able to confirm the experience of being buzzed via email. In the next email he complained about the munchies. After that he went strangely silent. I suspect he passed out, though he hasn't admitted it yet. I am not going to say who this expert is, in part to avoid any potential Embarrassment that might be had in exchanging tea with The Likes of Me, but also because he might decide to review this tea himself someday. Now two people don't constitute a Large Sample, but more than one person brings us outside of the relativist universe.
Reverse view, white2tea 2005 Naka
What do I mean by stoned? I mean face and head buzz, woozy eyeballs, incoherent babbling, a dizzy feeling of unreality, and mild vertigo. I do know what I mean by stoned from my younger days actually spent stoned. Back in grad school I was quite a heavy cannabis user hanging around a lot of other cannabis users. Seems to be a requisite grad school experience, and lacking experience in such key areas of life I joined right in. I remember going to my graduate statistics classes completely baked, and the feeling of heady awareness spreading from my right brain over to the left when I experienced a full, and yet nuanced, understanding of linear regression analysis from a particularly fine aged professor combined with a young sinsemilla.
First steep, 2005 Naka by white2tea
So what's up with this tea equivalent of pot brownies? The fact that it has some humid storage early on makes for more aged leaf than the cake should have at just shy of 10 years, and a nicer tasting brew. (Though with these effects, who cares how it tastes?) But the effect is likely due to the source material. Naka village has at least two types of leaf on the market. We know that the Lahu people have been tending tall, old trees up on the mountain. At the same time, there are terraced tea gardens further down that are sold to the market. People are also tending tea plants in their personal gardens, which consist of young trees, probably plantation cuttings, alongside maybe an old tree in the yard too. All this tea gets sold to the market, some mixed together with other regions, and some of course probably outright faked.

The mountain old trees in the area produce a smaller, more yellowish leaf than the terraced teas below. That mountain stuff is likely the tea that produces the psychoactive effect, supposedly Age and Experience in tea trees produces the ability to repel nasty insect invaders and this bug repellent produces the tea drunk. Of course it's always possible that terrace tea pesticides are getting me stoned, which is fine by me since I don't have future unborn children to think of. Or possible too that somebody is growing cannabis in their tea garden. Maybe a particular insect chews on the tea leaving behind a sort of saliva. Or, tea experience might be entirely relative or I am completely full of hogwash and you should consult an "expert." But who can tell whether one cake will get you completely Naka-erd and another will not? I have read enough tea reviews of Naka teas in which nobody has mentioned feeling stoned. But I'll make an effort to do some comparison testing, for no better reason than to sound more Objective. What I'm looking for is tea with smaller leaves. Might be difficult to tell chop from small leaves, but the surface of the cake, for once, might actually tell us something.

So too might the processing technique. Chawangshop carries Naka produced the old fashioned Lahu way. Lahu folks cut bamboo stalks at least one year old, but not too old because the sticks need to be a bit damp. Tea is stuffed into the bamboo and then the whole thing is steam/roasted. Once the leaves are wilted down, more tea can be stuffed in until the whole thing is packed tight. The tea can be aged in the bamboo or removed at this point and wrapped in paper. To me this sounds like a great home technique for dealing with that big tea tree in your yard without needing any special equipment. The Mason jar of Naka.

I'm guessing Lahu folk sell their maocha loose, but perhaps the bamboo stuff is what they keep under the floorboards. I have a hard time believing anyone will go to all the trouble to stuff tea chop into bamboo when whole leaves are so much faster, and easier to deal with. And I can't figure out why the Lahu people would want to sell their bamboo-ed mountain tea leaves. If I were one of them I'd be putting it all under the floorboards for myself and telling the tea buyers to bugger off. But maybe a few people actually sell it, and maybe Chwangshop has it.

Chawangshop makes no claims about their Naka village tea, but they have a 2007 spring and a 2012 autumn, as well as a boxed 2010. Any bamboo gets removed for cheaper shipping and apparently to help avoid customs issues. The spring 2007 version seems like something of a ballpark comparison with my 2005, and the description says it's the high mountain stuff. And no, you're not getting a link for this one either.
2007 Naka Qiao Mu Bamboo Raw, from Chawangshop
When mine arrives, the tea is tube shaped and wrapped in paper. It appears to have the smaller leaf. However, all of it is incredibly dry and green. For a 7 year old tea, this seems to have little to no age. And it's very compressed, giving me visions of gory puerh pick injuries. I put it into a ceramic glazed jar with a lid and add some humidity for a couple of weeks until it turns a little more brown, and starts to smell sweet and malty. Enough loose tea came with the package for a session, so I decide to go ahead and drink that. Got about 5 grams of loose into about 100 ml water. Liquor comes out orange with apricot scent.
First steep, 2007 Naka from Chawangshop
Reluctantly, I must say, a minor psychoactive effect is confirmed. Not as intense as the 2005 Naka from white2tea, but definitely there. So too the dry mouth and munchies. Now at $7.50 per 100 grams, this is cheaper than weed. But it's so green yet, I wish the bamboo storage device had been included with the purchase.

I investigate other Naka possibilities on Taobao and Ebay, just to see if I can find more cheap Naka with the same effect. At this point I either want to compare a plantation/terrace tea or find a lucky mountain tea. Both would be interesting to compare with the two I've tried so far. I find some decent-looking teas on Taobao varying in price from $5-29, but the real kicker with Taobao is shipping cost, plus any fees from a broker. These costs add so much to the price of a cake, I'd be halfway to buying another cake from white2tea. I leave the Taobaos in my cart for now and check Ebay. Ebay cakes usually include free shipping, and luckily I find a 2005 "Naka" cake for $21.99 from a store called fengyuan-teashop.
2005 Naka by fengyuan-teashop
This beeng cake is unusual at 370 grams. The leaves look big, even though the listing claims the tea is the mountain type. I don't believe listings, wrappers or even the cake appearance until I try it. Storage is claimed to be dry, but the tea ships from Hong Kong so I hope for at least some humidity. Optimistically I stock up on Old Dutch Cheesy Puffcorn. (A cheese popcorn substitute, hulls are hell on 'roids.)
Front of cake, 2005 Naka from fengyuan-teashop
When the cake arrives in shrink wrap, the completely dry storage is clear. Just a light dusty sweet odor and the leaves are lightly brownish-green and black. A side-by-side comparison with the same age white2tea Naka makes it difficult to discern any difference between the front of the cakes, but back sides are telling, and the difference is even more obvious once brewed.
Knot hole in the Ebay cake is off-center
 The Ebay cake brews up light orange and peachy, and within a few brews starts tending toward yellow. This tea also tastes smoky, something that a more humid storage would either mask or have worked out of the taste. Some char in the gaiwan with this one.
First steep, 2005 Naka from fengyuan-teashop
I get a pleasant feeling of relaxation usual when drinking puerh, but nothing like the first two teas. Also, the differences in the leaf size are far more obvious in the gaiwan than on the cake. You can see the larger leaf here, and I find a few big honkers in the Ebay cake, rather than the small leaf of the other two Nakas. Well, what do you expect? It's Ebay! Still, as a drinker tea, I could do worse for $21.99. It's not bad, after the first few sourish steeps the tea tastes a little like many of the factory tuos I've tried. But this old Doctor isn't Naka-erd this time. Even though it's a little less money than the bamboo Naka, the Chwangshop tea wins the cheap Naka contest in leaf quality, taste and stoner effect, though neither entirely rival the white2tea 2005 Naka.

Thank you so much to everyone for stopping by my nickel booth! I really appreciate the fellow tea writers and drinkers taking the time to read or comment. And I especially appreciate the folks in my age group who have dropped me an email, those of you in the same position as I am who have turned the corner and are dealing with progressive health issues, who are aging faster than your tea, or who want to get into puerh tea and find things you can drink right now. I am so with you...(pssst, you guys try the white2tea Naka, sample it, it's the better tea, leave the cakes for me).  `

Requiescat in Pace



Tastes Like Bacon?

$
0
0

Midwesterners call a spade a spade. Very often I think of the speech patterns of rural Wisconsin as just a hair shy of a language disability, because of the value placed on spare speech, of saying only what needs to be said in the fewest number of words possible. Too much about too little, such that when the need arises for people to really say something, they can't find the words. Whole worlds exist inside the mind that emerge only with difficulty.

Some folks here have diagnosed the spare speech trait here as a throwback to Scandinavian ethnicity burrowing into the current culture, or more specifically, cold weather ethnicity, of what happens to people who are stuck indoors for nine months of the year, who can't simply go outdoors to escape the annoyances of seemingly endless life in a room with other people. Perhaps in order to survive harsh winters with families intact, people learn to keep their mouths shut, to say as little as possible, to speak only when spoken to, or only when required to speak, so as not to annoy your housemate beyond the level of endurance already required to get through the darkness and cold. Oh, and let's not forget the "be humble" part, that too goes with it.

Along with such a culture apparently goes a higher suicide rate and lower murder rate. In contrast to warmer climes perhaps, where better weather allows the luxury of heading outside to get away from words, from heaven or hellfire poetry the size of Dante. Instead of doing your own self in, you can just kill the other guy. Personally, I'd rather go kill the other guy than suck it up, but in Wisconsin overall, a "put up and shut up" mentality reigns supreme. If you need to say anything, try and be as passive and vague as possible, and hope your annoying roommate gets the hint. 

Apparently the same can happen with tea blogs. A poster on a tea forum complained that tea blogs eventually progress to the point of vagueness, of saying nothing at all. I highly suspect that if such a tendency exists in tea writing, the reason is when we speak of qualities of tea, or Aesthetics, if you will, many descriptors of tea are what we can call Qualitative. In scientific research, we use Qualitative Methods to study and understand phenomena that are complex, multidimensional, highly subject to personal opinion, "Relative to the Individual," political, or ethnographic. Ethnographic means relative to the culture.

I'm asking an Ethnographic question if I inquire whether Wisconsin spare speech is really a Scandinavian or cold weather cultural trait. In tea, I'm similarly asking a Qualitative question if I inquire whether or not a puerh is "complex" or has "qi." Such questions imply a whole host of multidimensional variables, many of which might be hard to pin down, and perhaps even vary by the individual doing the tasting. All of a sudden tea drinkers who have a lot to say might experience difficulties in finding the words. Exact words. Words that, as another tea poster put it, might actually help a new puerh drinker as opposed to leaving the newbie "confused."

Separating out Quantitative (Objective) variables from Qualitative (Relativist) variables is not that hard. Quantitative variables are straightforward, and can be be measured with numbers. The real question is, why isn't anyone in aesthetics interested in doing any quantitative work with variables we actually can measure? All it takes is a pencil, or computer, and a little bit of high school algebra. But first we have to understand what kinds of variables can be quantified and studied with numbers, and which variables require qualitative methods.

I started out talking about Ethnography, and this is a Qualitative aspect of tea we must separate out if we want to look at more objective variables. For example, if I say, "this tea tastes like bacon," what does this mean? Probably a third of the folks sitting around the tea table are going to get up and leave the discussion because they have not tasted bacon. They have not tasted pork in their lifetime, and have no intention of doing so. Saying that a tea tastes like bacon is culturally-based, Relative to the Culture. If I'm the only person at the table who has tasted bacon, then I have said something highly Relative to only myself as an individual.

The Post-Objectivist researcher looking to study the larger Population (p) of tea drinkers worldwide needs to find quantifiable variables. An easy way of doing this is to identify binomial variables. These are either/or traits. Bacon could be an example of a binomial variable. Either a tea tastes like bacon or it doesn't. That's assuming we can agree on what a bacon taste is, and we don't have a wise guy in the room who says something like "I get the pork reference, but to me it's more of a prosciutto." Pork or bacon traits could be binomial variables, but unfortunately they don't have the wider cultural meaning for a worldwide Population (p) we are looking for. Perhaps as a Relativist, Qualitative researcher, I might otherwise write an interesting "Ethnography of Bacon Characteristics of Puerh Tea in Certain Wisconsin-Dwelling Individuals (Sample=P) with Internet Access." An amusing read maybe, but not helpful to non-bacon eaters and not for generalizations about aesthetics. Thus we must say "tastes like bacon" is not an aesthetic of tea for the general population (Population = p) of tea drinkers worldwide, and not worth bothering to study as a binomial variable by a Post-Objectivist quantitative researcher.

So, let us consider a more viable example, using Jane the Tea Vendor.

        Jane the Tea Vendor runs an online tea business selling a variety of teas and teaware. She also   offers puerh teas, but these aren't selling as well as she had hoped. Jane sees some of customers on tea forums, where she goes to promote her tea (smart lady), but these customers have primarily been buying her tea ware, bamboo charcoal, tea pets and non-puerh teas. She knows many of her customers drink puerh tea, but why aren't they buying hers? Jane decides to investigate her customers' taste preferences in tea, so that she can invest her money in teas that will sell, and stop wasting money buying teas that don't sell. How can Jane confidently survey her customer preferences?

One of Jane's teas that is not selling is a Menghai tuo, rather like this one.
2005 Menghai tuo from Yunnan Sourcing
Jane's Menghai tuo isn't exactly the same, but hers is very close. Brewing up 8 grams in her gaiwan, she notices the tea has a dark and significant smoky quality, and visible char in the strainer. She doesn't feel this processing trait impairs the tea in any way, and possibly a humid storage method, or enough aging into a tea will work this flavor out to some extent. But perhaps her customers don't agree, so she decides to check customer preferences for Smoky Tea. Fire and smoke are scents which are not culturally based, but a common human experience.
2005 Menghai
By selling tea worldwide, Jane knows that Smoky can have a positive or negative connotation with regard to cigarette smoking in some parts of the world. If customers new to puerh tea are asked directly about Smoky Tea, they might automatically respond negatively, when in fact they may already be drinking Smoky Tea, but have not recognized the smoke trait yet. Other customers might be turned off from buying a tea that anyone calls smoky, even before trying it for themselves. She also knows of customers who really hate smoky teas, and they won't drink a smoky tea if they know about it in advance.

So Jane plans to give two blind, unnamed tea samples to a number of her customers asking them to taste the teas, and respond to two survey questions online afterward. She offers a 10% discount coupon to her customers who taste the teas and answer the questions. Jane knows she can deduct these expenses on her taxes, and will recoup the costs in the future by investing her capital in teas her customers want.

Jane decides on a sample of her Menghai tuo along with another tuo of Jianshen Lancang tea, rather like this one.
2004 Jianshen tuo from white2tea
Again, Jane's is not exactly the same as Cwyn's, but close. The tuo is supposed to have "tobacco" notes. She brews up 8 grams of this tea too in 125 ml water, just to make sure she hasn't missed any smoky trait the tea might be hiding. But nope, the Jianshen tuo doesn't taste very smoky, because the processing exhibits almost no char in the strainer. She feels that her tuo differs enough from the Menghai that customers will have a preference for one or the other.
2004 Jianshen
An either/or preference situation can be represented by a binomial confidence interval, which will give Jane an idea whether her customers prefer a smoky tea or a non-smoky tea. Jane doesn't want a "no preference" situation, so she will ask customers to definitely pick one of the two teas.

Our Positive will be Smoky Tea, and the Negative will be Non-smoky tea. Because she doesn't really know about her customer preferences in truth, she will arbitrarily hypothesize that 50% will prefer the Smoky Tea and 50% will prefer the Non-Smoky Tea. Thus:

Positive=Prefers the Smoky Trait. (Menghai tuo=A)
Negative=Prefers Non-Smoky Trait. (Jianshen tuo =B)

The two survey questions will be:

1. Which of the two tea samples tastes smoky? (A or B)
2. Which of the two tea samples would you prefer to buy? (A or B)

Jane can use these two questions to sort out whether or not the customer detects the Smoky Tea, and then whether or not the customer would buy either of those teas. If the customer identifies the correct Smoky Tea, and prefers to buy the Smoky, then Jane records a Positive for that customer. If the customer correctly identifies the Smoky tea, but instead prefers to buy the Non-smoky, Jane can record a Negative for that answer. If the customer incorrectly identifies the Non-smoky, but prefers the Smoky, Jane records a Negative and assumes the customer didn't recognize the trait. If the customer incorrectly Non-smoky taste and prefers Non-smoky, Jane also records a Negative. The possible answers are succinctly summarized like this:

A,A=Positive
A,B=Negative
B,A=Positive
B,B=Negative

By using two questions like this, rather than the one question "which do you prefer," Jane can learn whether or not her customers detect the Smoky trait and have buying preferences based on that, or whether they don't detect it, and their buying preferences aren't affected by this trait. Or, that the customer might correctly identify the Smoky tea, but for unknown reasons, other than just Smoke, the customer wants to buy the Non-smoky (leaf quality, or number of steeps, complexity or some other trait).

Jane would like to have a 90% confidence interval with no more than 10% margin of error. She mails out the two sample teas along with the survey instructions and continues mailing only those two tea samples in all customer orders until she has mailed out 100 sample sets. She gets 68 people who try the teas and answer the survey questions to get their coupon.

Then Jane counts up the number of Positives and Negatives as described above. Jane gets 48 people (or 71% =.71) of customers with Positives for Smoky, and 20 people (or 29%=.29) Negatives for the Non-smoky. Remember, she started out hypothesizing an equal 50/50 split in the Smoky vs. Non-smoky. To find her confidence interval, she calculates the following:

N/z²[PQ+z²/2N +/- z√P x Q/N + z²/4N²]
or
68/(1.29)²[.71+1.29²/2(68) +/- 1.29√(.71 x .29)/68 + 1.29²/4(68)²]

where N = number of customers, P = %Positives as a decimal, Q =%Negatives as a decimal, z = critical test value, which on a z chart is 1.29 for a 90% confidence interval with 10% margin of error.

"Can this get any easier?"

Try using this online calculator. Enter the Positives 48 into the "Passed" box, and for "Total Tested" enter 68. Use 90% for Confidence. The results will be a chart on the right side of the page. Most of the results will be very, very similar. Differences have to do with corrections based on the sample size and for situations where fewer than 5 cases fall into Positives or Negatives.

"I can't handle math..."

Try this simple online calculator. Enter 48 for the number preferring the first option, and 20 for the number preferring the second option, and 90% for Confidence. The quick result will tell you whether or not a significant preference exists, without any numbers.

Originally Jane had hypothesized that 50% (or .50) of her customers preferred the Smoky Trait. But her experiment turned out that the actual trait falls between about 61% (.61) and 79% (.79). It's a pretty wide interval. But she had set her confidence interval for a big margin of error in order to reduce the number of customers she needed to mail teas to, and still get enough information to make a decision. Jane rejects her original hypothesis of a 50/50 split. Her customers are somewhat more likely to prefer the Smoky Menghai over the Non-Smoky Jianshen.

Plus she can make one Incredibly Important conclusion.

Jane can make generalizations that her results approach the entire population of tea drinkers, not just her own 68 customers. You might wonder, why go through all this riga-marole? Why not just use one survey question and take that 71% and go with it? This might be okay if all Jane wants to know is about her 68 customers who answered her survey question. However, you cannot generalize sample data from 68 people to the larger population using only a survey percent!! (Even though people do so erroneously all the time.) But because Jane went through all the above math and blind taste tests, she can make generalizations about entire range of the tea community beyond her own sample with a certain degree of confidence.

Let me say that again: a confidence interval of a binomial distribution with sufficient power, and a sufficient sample of people can be generalized to the larger Population (p). But a % mean average of a survey by itself, without the above methods, won't give you a range beyond Jane's customers. Jane went through all this work for a reason. She spent her money in the right way so that she knows something more about a Trait in the larger population of tea buyers, not just about those 68 customers alone.

Remember one more thing: Jane knew that if she simply asked customers if they like a Smoky Tea, a far larger majority probably would see the word Smoky and say "no," just because of negative cultural connotations about Smoke. She would not have got a true picture of tea drinker preferences just by asking a question alone, without the blind samples. She might have been tempted to dump all her Menghai tuos, or sell them for far less than she might otherwise. In fact, after all her samples, she is likely to actually sell more of her Menghai tea now than she would if she simply describes it "Smoky" in a survey or in her online sales description without blind sampling beforehand. She now can use this data to guide her tea descriptions, pricing and marketing.

Some other considerations...

Speaking of money, Tea Vendors might say "Hey wait a minute. If I send 2 samples of 10 grams each to 100 people, that's 2 kilos of tea. I can't afford that!" There are two ways of getting around this problem. If you want to use a smaller sample size, you'll need to adjust the Margin of Error you're willing to accept, and the Confidence Level. For decisions about capital investment, and for social science research, a higher Margin of Error (say, 10%) and a lower Confidence Level (say, 80-90%) might be perfectly acceptable. This will lower your required Customer N by quite a bit. You can use a smaller N of 50 people, and get that hopefully by mailing out the samples to 75 customers or so. But you can't use fewer than 50 people, or else the procedure isn't valid.

There are a couple of downsides to using fewer people, one being you may not get much information with a wider confidence interval, not to mention skewing your survey. As it is, a 90% with 10% margin of error is pretty wide. For exploratory work people preferences, however, this can be okay. But in fields like medicine, we don't want to be giving a medication to people unless we have a very high degree of confidence (99%) that we won't be causing adverse effects or death. In the "hard" sciences we need confidence levels extremely high, and error extremely low, compared to trait preference situations like Jane's. Does this make sense?

Another way around the expense problem is by replicating a study. If enough people conduct the same study, we can pool together the results and create a new Sample N > 300 and apply our more stringent margin of error (5%) and higher confidence level (95%). This is a post-hoc analysis. Researchers do this regularly in reviews of available research. Jane could get together with other tea vendors who agree to similarly sample their customers. They will all have different teas, but the main requirement will be to sample a definitely Smoky tea with a Non-smoky tea and ask the same exact two online survey questions.

Tea vendors can pool their results with Jane's, and apply the confidence interval calculator on their new aggregate group sample N. All they need to do is convert their percentages of answers into decimals for the formula, or plug the Positives into the online calculator. Using different teas is perfectly fine for tea vendors, and for social scientists studying Aesthetics or Traits. Obviously different teas won't be good enough to provide information for tea factories or people interested in leaf differences, for example. But to merely understand a trait, as long as the samples conform to the trait, the teas can certainly differ. And we know that teas often differ even among batches.

Jane can also get more data by looking at single answers. For example, if she gets an unusually large number of people with B, B answers (>10%), for example, these are people who didn't correctly identify the Smoky tea, and who prefer to buy the Non-smoky. She might want to follow up with buyers who have actually purchased the Jianshen and get information from them about their experience with it, and look for any reviews of the tea. These buyers might have additional variables for her to consider as she makes decisions on buying tea for her business in the future. She might also question whether the Smoky tea she picked for her study really provided enough of a contrast for reliable customer data.

Obviously I made up Jane's sample results, and they are not actual values. Nevertheless, binomial variables are a straightforward, either/or way to study a preference or Trait and determine with a degree of confidence whether that trait is likely to exist in the general population, given an appropriate sample size. We can make conclusions about tea traits with a reasonable understanding of statistical power and unexplained error.

Can you think of any other traits about tea that can be explored in this way?








Old Lady Tea

$
0
0
I don't drink young tea all that much. Maybe once a week or every two weeks. Most of the young teas (<10 years) I try are either for my son or things I will eventually give away elsewhere. Right now I'm in the process of choosing a puerh cake for a wedding present. The downside of too much young tea for this old lady is I feel a bit hungover afterward and need a nap. Then I spend the next five days or longer drinking shou, or really aged sheng, or perhaps a black tea. My normal drinkers are at least ten years old and preferably older than that.

The past couple of days are a case in point. My last blog post featured a couple of teas that some might not consider all that young, 2004 and 2005. But these teas were stored dry, and still are very green to me. The leaves taste good in these teas. I hate to waste tea so I've been trying to steep them out. The Menghai is getting close to done. But the Jianshen is like a young boy toy who won't go home and doesn't seem to sleep.
2005 Menghai and 2004 Jianshen, aren't they done yet??
A third day in, and I find myself sniffing around my tea samples and older cakes, longing for a bit of humid storage and some dark flavor. I like a little traditional storage on a tea, but not so much that "musty" is the only flavor I can taste. I want to taste other flavors too after the first few steeps. My personal theory is people living in humid climates don't even notice "musty" anymore, but those of us in drier climates can pick up the smallest whiff of damp.

My mother was one of those people. She had a mission in life to eliminate all possible mustiness and mold because of a constant allergy problem. Seeing her all stuffed up and puffy in the a.m. was typical. To add to the challenge, she insisted on living in a lakeside home, where a bit too much rain led to water in the basement and frantic efforts with dehumidifiers and bleach to dry everything out. When she changed her clothes closet between seasons, anything she planned to store got packed into vacuum-sealed bags to avoid the tiniest spore. Even the pillows on the beds were covered with plastic cases, which seemed to me more likely to cause mustiness than simply washing them often, or replacing them as needed. Eventually she gave up on the battle with mustiness and moved to Arizona, where she started a battle with dust and sand instead. Mom would have hated the musty tea I drink, and anyway not worth trying to move her away from the sugary, powdered Lipton lemon iced tea she drank for decades. But humidity ages a teacake far more quickly and is a godsend to someone of my age and health issues, making a puerh tea much easier to take.

An inspection of my stoneware crocks turns up this 1990s Menghai Red Star sample I picked up from Tea Classico last month.
1990s Menghai Red Star, by Tea Classico
I've been airing it in a small turned-clay jar I made in high school. (You know you're getting older when the stuff you made back in school qualifies as vintage.) This tea is described as having Hong Kong "dry" storage. I've learned with puerh however, that "dry" in Hong Kong still means some humidity, just about the right amount in my opinion. Once in awhile I get a tea from Hong Kong that has been vacuum packed, such as that 2005 Naka I wrote about last week. But a Hong Kong cake packed in space/time-warp wrap is something of a disappointment, if I wanted bone dry I'd order from somewhere else. This time, however, I can smell a bit of mustiness in the sample.

You can see in the presentation dish that the 20 gram sample I have includes some loose tea underneath with a few smaller compressed pieces. I put away the big chunk for now, and focus on the loose stuff weighing 6 grams in total. I have a tiny Yixing pot, but I'll go with the gaiwan instead so you can see the brew. Look at that dark brown color! Just the ticket for too many young sheng sessions. One rinse, because the loose tea doesn't need much more help to fall apart.
Go to bed with a boy, wake up with an old man.
First steep, very mineral-ly. Love it! I feel better already, knowing this is gonna go down nice. The tea has some liveliness on my lower tongue. Takes a few steeps to get rid of most of the humidity, but I don't want to toss these steeps or I'd miss out on that strong mineral flavor. Now into steeps 4 and 5 I'm getting tea flavor, a bit of green tea, but nothing like the green bitter brew I've been drinking over the past few days. Now this leaf isn't the wild old tree stuff, so no fancy flavors or incoherent babbling. It also starts fading after 8 steeps, and I increase the steep time. Worth sampling, and feels good to drink it today, but I don't think I'll be springing for a cake.

I don't have any actual tea advice to offer aged people, but a few things work for me.

1. Buy the best aged tea I can afford.
2. Develop a palate for at least some humidity in the tea cake, it widens out the choices of buying tea considerably than restricting myself to just dry storage choices.
3. Grandpa-brew a little bit of leaf in a Yixing mug with lots of water if I need a bit more hydration. Medications are drying on the body and rough on the kidneys.
4. Focus on teas I can drink right now. When someone recommends the latest plantation cake, I try not to feel tempted. I don't have the time. Unless I plan to give a gift to a relative, those cakes are for the young people.

Requiescat in pace.

A Reality Check

$
0
0
Wisconsin rhythms are in my blood. In the spring, I know when sap starts to bleed from maple trees. And when the smelt fish run in huge schools into the inland rivers from Lake Superior where we caught them in huge nets in middle of the night, frying them in beer batter at dawn. Then too I know the best time to search for concretions in Lake Superior, when the lake melts completely from ice and we can go search out rocks which are perfect round balls, formed and smoothed from water dripping on sandstone cliffs. All this I know without needing to see because the weather conditions are just right. Now in September, I know when the wild rice is ready.
Wild rice grows well over your head, photo Wisconsin DNR

Not a true rice, native wild rice is actually a cereal grass. It looks like rice, but cooks up with a taste somewhat similar to Russian kashi, or buckwheat groats. Wild rice grows in quiet flat waters of northern Wisconsin, Minnesota and Canada, and the rice stems are very tall. Wild rice was once a staple of the native tribes of the Chippewa (Ojibwe) and Menominee. But nowadays this notion is a bit more on the mythical side.
Real native wild rice. photo classicprovisions.com
Native tribal chiefs today still determine the time of rice harvesting for the state of Wisconsin, and tribes have the first harvests rice. Many Americans like to cook wild rice on Thanksgiving Day, because wild rice cooks up nicely in the belly of a turkey. But few buy the real stuff. Plantation-grown wild rice is what most Americans recognize, and plantation costs much less. Most Natives too would rather buy potatoes or nearly any other rice at the grocery store for less than a dollar a pound than do the work of gathering wild rice.
Plantation wild rice, photo by allcreatures.org
Wild rice is time-consuming to process. Once harvested, the rice needs to be dried in the sun and then lightly pan roasted. After that, one must don a pair of moccasins and stomp the rice to loosen the hulls. Then the rice needs to be tossed on a windy day to remove the chaff and allow the breeze to carry them off. With all this work involved, buying rice from India or China or even California for less than a dollar a pound becomes more appealing. Who has the time to process wild rice anymore? Of course people still do it. But one can also buy plantation wild rice at the grocery store for $5 a pound. I can buy the real stuff here, but it costs more like $15 a pound. Compare that to a large bag of Indian subcontinent basmati at 10 lbs for $15 and then guess which rice I'll eat more often.

Only residents of Wisconsin are allowed to harvest wild rice within the state. I am allowed to purchase a rice harvest permit for $8.25 which provides rights for my entire family. Harvest rules are strict. Tribal chiefs determine for the state when the rice is ready, and when non-minorities may harvest. Within wild rice waters, harvesters must use a rowboat or canoe with no motor, paddled only by human muscle power and oars. Rice is harvested with two wood sticks, which must be rounded and no longer than 38 inches. Only the boat hull may be used to catch the rice, which will fall into your boat when tapped with the wood sticks.
White people harvesting wild rice, photo Wisconsin DNR
Only about 10-15% of the total wild rice crop is harvested. The rest falls into the water to re-seed the paddy. Along with other rules that could affect the water table (such as no dams placed nearby), the rice paddies continue to yield rice as they have done for a thousand years or longer.

Y'all know where I'm going with this, right? The parallels with puerh tea leaves are kinda obvious, ethnic minority harvest rights, plantation versus wild, the intrusions of modern life on cultural traditions. I'm feeling the pull of wild rice in the September air, but I didn't even think about parallels with puerh until the other day when I started reading publications by the faculty of the Tea Sciences department at Yunnan Agricultural University. The parallels between wild rice and puerh tea got even more creepy.

Yunnan Agricultural University dedicates much focus to the culture and environs of Yunnan, and that, of course, includes puerh tea. Something of a sister school exists here in our Northland College at, guess where? Northern Wisconsin. A comparison of the majors available at both colleges reads very similarly, with a few minor differences. A bit more on fishery and logging at Northland College, a bit more tea chemistry and goat breeding at Yunnan NAU. Both schools are focused firmly on their responsibility for the native ecology of their respective regions. I cannot bear the thought of what might happen without joint efforts between governments, schools, industry tribes and citizens. No doubt all our citizens are grateful to the parties involved and to these schools who are working hard to preserve our wild terroir for generations to come.

The Journal of Yunnan Agricultural University offers interesting insight into the research directions of puerh tea. The journal has Social Sciences and Natural Sciences editions. Both are searchable online in English and Chinese, and I found 90 records for tea in the Natural Sciences edition and over 100 in the Social Sciences edition, although these searches did bring up irrelevant articles. Most articles about puerh tea in the Natural Sciences edition explore the chemistry of tea, mainly focusing on identifying the health benefits compounds or quality control variables. A few, however, identify the compounds behind aroma in puerh tea, and even a "chestnut" aroma in teas in general produced by the Fuxiang Factory. Those compounds are linalool α-Terpeneol, Geraniol, Nerol, Nerolidol, α-Humulene, Longipinenepoxide, Caryophyllene oxide, Butanoic acid, 4-hexeryl ester, 2-Hexadecen-I-oL, and 3,7,11,15-tetranethyl.

When reading articles about variables and controls in tea cultivation and processing, I can't help but wonder if the tea cake of the future will consist of results of this sort of research. If whether that chestnut aroma isn't attributable so much to my tea experience and palate, but rather to tea genetic engineering, or even compounds added to the maocha to enhance particular flavors. All the talk about palate and experience and aesthetics and even variables I've discussed in my past blogs posts might be a moot point in the future, the more engineered tea trees become.

Can you imagine a day in the future when harvesting the wild tea trees is restricted only to the ethnic minorities in Yunnan? Or maybe the minorities and residents of Yunnan who buy a harvest license for something like $8.25? Say goodbye to all those SUVs of tea buyers trucking in to spend millions buying tea for themselves and their friends. The rest of us will get plantation tea. This isn't so far-fetched when I think of wild rice here in Wisconsin. The day is already here when only residents and ethnic tribes can harvest wild rice, and most Americans already eat plantation wild rice, and rices from other parts of the world rather than our native wild rice. Nobody even thinks anymore about plantation rice as any different from real wild rice. If research directions in puerh tea are any indication, then this is the way of the future for tea cakes as well.

Does all this seem too far-fetched? Do you think there is so much mysticism around ethnic minority traditional products that they will always be available at reasonable prices, and that people will always believe in the seànce-like atmosphere of tea tastings? Or is there a reality we don't want to see, something like Chang-Rae Lee's science fiction story "On Such a Full Sea," wherein we eat fish created in underground "perfect fish" tanks in B-Mor cities? Do we truly believe there will always be natives in Yunnan who really want to spend their time stuffing tea into bamboo tubes, or Ojibwe who will always want to harvest wild rice and stomp out the hulls with moccasins?

The myths still persist, such as the mystical idea of the Ojibwe subsisting on wild rice in this article.
1800s painting Native rice harvest, en.wikipedia.org
And then compare similar mythical ideas about "reclaiming" puerh tea as art, medicine and just a hair shy of magic, in this article.
Tea harvest painting, aneducatedpalate.wordpress.com
The articles might be one day just as outdated as the myths expressed in these paintings. Even though modern photos of wild rice and tea harvests look more realistic, it's tempting to cast the modern photos further above in the same romantic vein as the paintings, but are they truly less mythologized?
teapleasure.blogspot.com
Wild rice is my reality check, because I am most certainly not immune to myths and mysticism. When my Hong Kong-based gaming guild (N = 232) invited me to visit them in China, I rather naively told everyone I looked forward to drinking puerh tea with them. I got a good laugh from my friends. "Oh, we don't drink that old stuff, we prefer American coffee."

Requiescat in pace.




Somebody that I used to know

$
0
0
Previously, I've written a bit about the order of nuns I belonged to in my youth. Our order 聖方濟各永久朝拜聖體修女會 had a school and medical dispensary in Wuchang, China from 1928-1949, though a bit longer if you count those staying on after that to continue running the medical dispensary where hundreds of people received medicines every day. Lately I find myself thinking about the Wuchang convent when I drink tea, because I am also remembering Sister M. Rosa Liu. I wish I had a photo of her, but I'm too lazy to go digging through my papers, and all I can find on the internet is her name on a congressional list of American naturalized citizens. Sister Rosa decided to join our order when she encountered the sisters in Wuchang.

Back when I was young, Sister Rosa had a small kitchen space at the motherhouse where she cooked Chinese meals and brewed tea. She stored supplies in a couple of the cupboards. Having a space like this was not typical for nuns. Keep in mind we all ate in the larger cafeteria, more formally known as a refectory. Spaces at the motherhouse, aside from one's own room, are all common spaces. So for Sister Rosa to have something of her own place was rather unusual. In part, I think, the order had become aware that sisters not of the typical American German or Irish farm girl background experienced a massive cultural loss when joining the order. Some found the cultural loss so painful they could not stay. In my day, the order recognized this experience and to some degree tried to make room for self-expression. Perhaps that's why Sister Rosa had her own kitchen space to cook Chinese food.

Now, this small kitchen was also used as part of a conference room, so it wasn't entirely hers. But often on Saturdays, Sister Rosa cooked in that kitchen, or had oolong tea sessions for special guests. I heard she got her teas and cooking ingredients from friends. As a young nun, I was not part of the special guest status, I was more at the shoo-go-away level of annoying sisterhood, the young ones Sister Rosa likely prayed would persevere but didn't consider in the same league. So I never got an invitation to Sister Rosa's meals or her teas, and wasn't invited to the kitchen. In fact if we needed to pass through it we did so on tiptoe even when the room was dark and empty. Wouldn't want to be caught in there without a reason.
My cup as I write, 1976 Baozhong by Origin Tea, sample through the kindness of Teadb.org
Nuns from Africa, on the other hand, were welcome to use the kitchen when Sister Rosa didn't need it. For example, we had sisters from a Nigerian order  working on degrees at our college, and they lived with us too. They got sick a lot with American viruses, colds, flus and infections, as well as experiencing their own cultural loneliness. These sisters dealt with all that by cooking up Nigerian Jollof rice, a white rice so spicy and hot that not only did it clear out my sinuses, but the heat tasted almost chemical in intensity on my tongue, so strong, and this was the "less hot" version they graciously made for me in a separate pan. Splendid tasting stuff, luscious and reddish, sauced and stirred creamy like risotto. "Sit down, sit down," the nuns said when I hovered in the doorway, a bit fearful of entering Sister Rosa's kitchen. The kitchen took on a warm and steamy feel from the big pots of rice and koinonia.
Nigerian Jollof Rice, by the dailymeal.com
So while I never got to take tea with Sister Rosa, one day she decided I was worthy company to chat with in the Community Room. This room had comfy, if very dated furniture and always a jigsaw puzzle. I happened to be very good at jigsaw puzzles, and often went in to work on the current one after lunch or dinner for a little while. Sister Rosa joined me at the puzzle one evening, and told me a story of how she had to flee the Red Army by swimming across the Yangtze River. It was quite a story. I wish I could remember more of what she told me, but while she was talking a bat flew over us in the Community Room. I dove under the puzzle table.

"What?" asked Sister Rosa.

"A bat!" I screeched, scared to death.

"Oh," Sister Rosa said.

She just went on with her story and the puzzle while I remained under the table, certain I would get rabies at any moment. The nuns kept tennis racquets in a closet in the hallway to deal with the occasional bat in the motherhouse. Sister Rosa made no move to get a tennis racquet, she wasn't especially  bothered. Finally another sister came in with a tennis racquet and swatted the bat. But I had lost all track of Sister Rosa's story.

There is a double loss here, because the first volume of our community history ended in 1949 just before the sisters left China. Sister Rosa's story took place just after the first volume of our history, so it isn't in that book. The second volume of our history didn't recount fully what finally happened to the sisters in China. Unless someone has written down Sister Rosa's story for the archives, it remains a personal story.

Other Chinese sisters in our community had a different view of Sister Rosa and her kitchen. "Oh, her family was comparatively well off," is how one sister explained the kitchen. This could mean several things. One, that Sister Rosa was viewed as perhaps a bit of a privileged rich girl. Another might be that the point of the community is to live in common, not to carve out private space  but, well, Sister Rosa's background meant that this idea had a different meaning for her, or a greater difficulty. Or it could mean that Sister Rosa's cultural loss was misunderstood, even by other sisters from China, or maybe that Sister Rosa's liking for cooking her own family dishes was misunderstood. For all I know too maybe Sister Rosa cooked better than anyone else, a little sour grapes on the part of others? Or perhaps the exclusivity of her guests at a formal tea was the issue.

Even the story of fleeing the Red Army evoked one confusing comment. "Sister is inclined to exaggerate," another nun said with an eye roll. I'm not sure if this means it never happened, or if talking about it was the problem. Sisters don't go on very much about painful experiences, and plenty of nuns had horror stories to tell. I know of several nuns with severe post-traumatic stress disorder from literally dodging bullets in Central America. It's all in a day's work, offer it up to Jesus, suffer in silence, we can think of others who had it worse, don't make a big deal of anything. I certainly had my own stories already back then of going through a school shooting, and of teaching seven whole grades all together in one-room mountain schools with a single textbook, a blackboard, wood stove and wormy dogs throwing up in the dirt outside. If we all start talking "emergency room" stories, none of us would ever shut up. Fleeing the Red Army is no big deal, apparently. But the story was important enough to tell a young nun who wasn't important enough to invite for tea. I tend to believe the story, though, the severe part anyway. Because we all got ours for sure. That we do.

All I know of the Wuchang convent is what's written in A Chapter of Franciscan History by Sister Mileta Ludwig (New York: Bookman Associates, 1950), and from Sister Mileta's history lectures to us novices when she was 90 years old and I was 20. Our sisters were invited by a bishop in Wuchang to open a school for girls, and did so in October 1928. By December, the sisters were already speaking Chinese. The next summer the sisters welcomed boys into classes because the boys were showing up anyway. Building a bigger school began.
Our original convent in Wuchang, 1928-1931, photo in M. Ludwig, 1950
But in August 1931, just after the new school dedication, the worst flood in the Yangtze Valley since 1870 destroyed the convent and dispensary. The sisters took in a few more nuns and thirty abandoned babies from a nearby Hwang-Shih-Kang convent and huddled up in the second floor of the school for more than a month to wait out the flood.
1931 flood at Hankou, flickr.com
 After the flooding receded, half the nuns got sick. So the healthy ones began working in the nearby hospital to help with the famine and cholera epidemic. Sisters walked the neighborhoods two by two bringing medicine and food without permission, because their superior was hospitalized. The sisters moved over to Hwang-Shih-Kang and re-opened the medical dispensary, but the school didn't get going again until the next Chinese New Year.
Our motherhouse chapel looks the same today as in 1932, photo hcap.artstor.org
Sister Rosa joined our order from Wuchang in 1932 and traveled to Wisconsin to get her religious and teacher training. One wonders what role, if any, the previous year's flooding had on her decision to seek admission to an American convent. In 1936, however, she finished her training and returned to China and the nuns now at Hwang-Shih-Kang. But more disaster was looming. As relations between Japan and China deteriorated, the sisters received orders to leave the country by the Consul General in Hankow (romanization of Hankou). But they felt like they couldn't leave the children and the school nor close the dispensary, "they preferred to remain, and die, if necessary...(Ludwig, p. 373)." The Japanese bombing of Wuchang began on September 24, 1937, and continued on a daily basis until October 26, 1938. The sisters turned their convent compound into a refugee camp. One sister wrote home to Wisconsin in summer of 1938:

"I dislike mentioning our fears and doubts and hopes and presentiments for the future. Oh, if only these days were shortened! We are at the beginning of something very serious. The bombing surpasses anything that you could imagine. Would that it were a thing of the past! Not a day passes on which we are not bombed. Generally planes come twice a day. Yesterday, the raid killed 1550 people; that is, so many have been unearthed from the debris. Many are still buried under the ruins or in dugouts. The whizzing of one particular bomb which found its bed in the river made all the sisters feel the house was cleft in two...It would seem like suicide to try to stay here with the children. We hope to find some place of safety. The future looks dark (Ibid, pp 373-374)."

On August 10, 1938, Japanese planes dropped paper bulletins warning that within the next ten days Wuchang would be destroyed. In actuality, the destruction took two more months. All but four of the nuns left, including Sister Rosa, taking the orphaned children with them. The remaining four nuns stayed because four to five hundred refugees remained in the compound and refused to leave. The bombings were horrific, destroying almost everything. Near the convent grounds was an electric plant, and on the other side, a cotton mill. Both of these were enemy targets, however the Japanese planes bombing the area hesitated, as if they didn't want to hit the refugee camp. The Red Army saved the camp too by destroying the electric plant with dynamite, and while the windows in the school were blown out, not one nun nor refugee perished during the dynamiting, nor in the continued bombing of Wuchang.
Wuchang rubble, 1938, photo wuhantime.com
The next night was a massacre, and local citizens outside the compound also attempted to set fire to the buildings. But the refugees and sisters got the fires out in time. Wuchang surrendered to the Japanese the following day. Sister Rosa and the other nuns returned shortly afterward, but a boat with more nuns arriving to help in early 1939 got detained at Shanghai, and these sisterly reinforcements never made it. After the attack on Pearl Harbor, all communications with the Wuchang convent were completely severed. News of the war years came via notes from the International Red Cross, finally arriving to the motherhouse in early 1944.

The nuns had carried on teaching, providing medical services and caring for orphans and refugees until February 19, 1943. On that day all American missionaries, including all but two of our religious sisters, were forced onto a boat to Nanking, and then transferred to Shanghai where they spent five weeks in a concentration camp with at least a thousand people. But Sister Rosa and another native Sister Dominica Chen were not taken with their American sisters. After five weeks in the concentration camp, the American sisters were released to a convent in the French Concession in Shanghai. These sisters helped with a school there for over two years and one died of smallpox.

Meanwhile back in Wuchang, the Japanese army took over the convent and school compound. Sister Rosa and Sister Dominica were kept in a few small rooms and put on limited rations. They ran the school by themselves for almost three years with Japanese officers staying in the rest of the convent building. The American sisters were finally able to return to Wuchang to help after the war ended in 1945. By late 1948, the school numbered almost 400 children living there permanently.

By 1948, the revolution had arrived at Wuchang, and refugees were welcomed once again at the school compound. But the situation got too dangerous. Our motherhouse removed eight of the sisters by order of obedience in late 1948. Native sisters including Sister Rosa, remained to run the school until spring 1949, and later several sisters returned again to the medical dispensary. Sister Rosa later went to Taiwan for a time, and Sister Dominica spent time working in Yemen which seems almost unimaginable today.

I've left out the religious context, the old-fashioned idea of converting "pagans" to Christianity in China and other countries, what we now consider euro-centric colonialism and proselytizing. This perspective was a widespread idea at the time and even today. It's a theological reason why the sisters were in China along with many other western, Christian groups. And somewhat embarrassing, producing a kind of conflict for me.

I don't have narratives to read from the people who attended the St. Joseph school when the sisters were teaching at Hwang-Shih-Kang, nor from the refugees and local citizens dealing with the reality of "concession" districts. I struggle with it. And I don't know what's worse, emphasizing the positive or leaving out the embarrassment which avoids a crucial moral heart of all these issues. One thing I can tell you is that the whole conversion attitude was gone in my day, replaced by a respect for all religions, and stance of learning, and concern for mutual human community. Sister Dominica's words at the end of her life (linked above) speak for themselves. I know our sisters from China would not be the nuns they are without meeting our American sisters in Wuchang. All went on to other countries and worked on behalf of others their entire lives. The only path to the truth will be through multiple perspectives, many of which I don't have access to. All I can do is defer to a kind of relativism, and present the perspective I do have access to, while acknowledging the conflicting issues and missing perspectives.

So, Sister Rosa made her choice of what she wanted to do with her life, and she remains a member of our order. At one time I was her sister in religion, she is my elder and she has my respect. Not least for shooing me out of her kitchen. But more for the fact that she ran a school with one other sister during the Japanese occupation of their city and right inside their own house. I know what a spoiled little brat I am when I get horrors over plumbers fixing the pipes in my bedroom ceiling, or when I get scared about bats. Sister Rosa knows what 1550 dead bodies buried in rubble looks like, smells like, while listening to the wailing of hungry, homeless small children for years on end and still writing her lesson plans every day in the midst of it all. Sister Dominica's words tell how a very personal spirituality is the reason behind how nuns live.

And I feel a pang when researching and writing this just now, the horror of all those events in China, and then thinking of my own life too when I knew Sister Rosa a little, and leaving it behind. But mostly it's all just so long ago, a quarter century for me and more than half a century for her. Time, like a bomb, levels all of it under a rubble of our daily struggles. I don't know the full story of Sister Rosa, and next to nothing about her kitchen. That's the truth. Like a Gotye song going through my head, returning to a once-great  love, perhaps "addicted to a certain kind of sadness... you're just somebody that I used to know."

Feast of St. Francis of Assisi, October 4
Double Ten Day Wuchang Uprising (1911), October 10


Requiescat in Pace
Cwyn, formerly of the 聖方濟各永久朝拜聖體修女會.



 

2014 Ban Payasi

$
0
0
Hello Tea Hoarders!

Yes, you.

I know what you're hiding in that unplugged fridge, collection of jars, your dedicated cupboards, those boxes under the bed, and lined drawers that you can shut so no one can see. You're the one who catches the mails before anyone at home says "more tea???!" or worse. You go around and sniff in the middle of the night when people are asleep, just to see how your cakes are doing. After all, you're awake anyway because you drank too much. You have so much tea stuffed away that the insurance agent gives you a blank stare when you ask about an extra rider for tea on your home policy.

One big reason for me to buy young tea cakes is gift giving (classic rationale of the Tea Hoarder). This year I've already given away quite a bit of tea, and I look for tea cakes around the $20 price point for this purpose. I have a big advantage living in an area of the world where nobody knows what a fermented tea cake is. Nobody has one. Thus I retain a stash of perfect choices for the occasion when I need to bring a $20 gift. In small towns like mine, one has to plan ahead for gift giving, because we can't just run to the Dollar General store and hope to find something nice. Especially for that person who has a little bit of a taste for the finer things, or is a foodie person or a wine person. And a young tea cake is great for gift giving, because I don't need to feel bad if the recipient goes home and throws the thing in a drawer.

At the moment I'm still having a challenge looking for a gift tea. One problem with gifting tea is whether I think the recipient will try and drink the cake right away. If that is the case, then I don't want to saddle my friends with a bitter and disappointing brew. Mandala's Wild Monk cakes are great for small gifts, but a bit too small for the family gift situation I'm looking at right now.

One other consideration is that the couple in question is not a young couple, but more in my age range. And they have health problems too. A shou is a safe and healthy bet, but not terribly interesting and a challenge for new puerh drinkers to taste and enjoy. My friends have the best weather for aging tea too, so regardless of what I choose, storage is not really much of an issue. I need a young tea that tastes good, or an older tea cake that tastes good and has lost its bitterness and most of the astringency. Astringency is something you don't see much reference to in my writing about puerh tea, because I feel I cannot objectively evaluate this trait due to the medications I take, at least three of them have a xerostomic side effect.

Sigh. What's an old lady to do?

I guess continue digging through my own tea collection first and see if I have anything that would be appropriate as a gift for my friends. I still have a few teas that I haven't tried yet, might as well work my through a few more tastings before trying to buy something new. Another advantage of considering a gift from my collection is that if a cake needs airing out, that process is already done.

One tea I haven't tried yet is the 2014 Ban Payasi I got from Chawangshop. Do you have any Laos or other "border" tea cakes in your collection? Of course you do. A few bloggers reviewed Chawangshop's 2014 Ban Komaen earlier this season, but I don't think I've seen much on the 2014 Ban Payasi, which is the cake I bought, and less than half the price of the Ban Komaen. Actually I bought a tong of Ban Payasi village tea cakes. After all, a single cake is just a sample, right??? (yet more of the thought process behind Tea Hoarding) The Ban Payasi is a value anyway at $22, and buying a tong drops the price down to $19 a cake which is why I went with the 5 cake tong, that's 4 gifts at the $20 price point plus a cake for me (another rationalization for Tea Hoarding...I might a candidate for clomipramine).
2014 Ban Payasi by Chawangshop.com
Strictly speaking, Laos tea cakes can't rightly be called puerh tea because that term is reserved for tea from Yunnan, even though villages like Ban Payasi are just over the border. Nature doesn't discriminate but people do. What do you think of the nomenclature? I am not particularly bothered by the idea that "puerh" is a tea cake only from Yunnan, because I can agree "champagne" is from France and a particular grape. But I'm easy and not bothered if someone calls a sparkling wine "champagne" anyway. However, I really respect origins, the uniqueness of being a native of a particular place. Without these distinctions, we lose our soul and might as well all be wearing khakis.

I liked the Chawangshop description of the Ban Payasi village reaction to inquiries about buying fresh tea leaves. Something like "nope." As I wrote back in September regarding the same shop's 2007 bamboo Naka, I've often wondered how many villages just say no when yet another SUV or motorbike roars up the road looking for tea leaves. Do they ever sound a village warning, something like "Ray Bans and Gucci bag closing in at 2 kilometers. Lock up, people." The need to hoard kicks in when an outsider gets too close. Not that I'm judging, in fact I completely understand.

Reading around the internet, I found a blog of a Russian tea group who traveled to Ban Payasi in early 2012, and they did buy fresh leaves. They are selling the loose tea collected from the village that year at $17/oz and their cakes are $100/250 g, which seems rather pricey to me. I can only account for the difference if their tea has a high bud-to-leaf ratio, but guessing it's a 1:3 at best, and perhaps worse since the diary shows leaves bought from a small child who went picking willy-nilly for a half hour. The blog diary is a lil' bit pithy, and I wonder why they only have 2012 tea, it seems they haven't gone back to the village. Is it because they still have 2012 tea left to sell?

On tea forums, comparisons of the Phongsaly region teas with Yunnan puerh seem to range from "meh" to "tastes like Yiwu." The Ban Payasi cake description reads like the village dug up a bag of leaves to sell, maybe something older or what they had maybe picked the previous autumn? Since I haven't tried the tea yet, I can't say, but it cost half the price of the other Phongsaly cakes that Chawangshop offers, so there must be a good reason for this. Get out the tweezers just in case?

The cake is only a few months old, and of course is still very green, but quite fragrant. Looser stone compression on this one, and not hard to remove about 9 grams for the 110 ml or so I plan to steep. Eeek, bracing myself for the worst of young sheng brashness.
Still pretty green. Sorry for the blurry photo.
Two rinses and a yellow brew, smells and tastes floral, the mellow Yiwu flavor, rather surprising. I expected something much more bitter, and my first steep after the rinses was 30 seconds too, I suppose I'm used to seeing dark and dank in my cup. But floral, with a good bit of lemon. Rather mild for my taste which, considering the gift situation, might be a good thing. I don't want to sock'er punch my friends who are new to puerh tea. That comes later if I turn them into tea drunks. I wouldn't bring a new drinker of alcohol a fine whiskey, let's start with a little light wine first, eh?
First steep...CrimsonLotusTea has some cute tea pets!
The eventual storage situation for the gift will be heavy, humid and hot climate storage. The flavor here is mild, and 5 steeps in I'm seeing and tasting a bit of fade already. I fear it will not keep up over years of wet storage, but that's likely okay. I don't expect my friends will hold on to this cake for long. Either they will drink it up within 3 years, or it will go moldy and get tossed. The mildly floral, lemony flavor will taste good in their hot and rainy climate, and I'm not getting intense caffeine heart palpitations which is yet another issue I want to avoid with my friends. I might suggest to them, given the hot climate, to hot brew a little of this tea, then add to a pitcher of cold water, chill and drink it on ice. Again, not a regular puerh...er...tea cake drinking situation, but we're talking newbs so go slow, eh? Puerh--uh, fermented tea cake--is worth a taste but not for everyone in the end.
The leaf quality is better than I expected, lots of buds in the gaiwan and whole leaves too. Won't find this pretty leaf in a regular factory cake, not at this price point. No wonder those SUV's are heading across the border. Very pleased!

I think this will be a perfect gift tea. And one more cake goes out the door...






Puerh Storage is a Crock

$
0
0
Recently I read an old comment in a tea forum discussion along the lines of "because I live in North America, I'm not in a position to talk about storage." We've got to stop that mentality. For one, we have to store our teas. And two, in an age of refrigeration, we are forgetting that less than a century ago people  here were in the business of storing and fermenting food and beverage items at home. Had they not, we wouldn't be here. Therefore, a more accurate statement would be "20 years ago we didn't have Puerh Shopping over the Internet." But we most certainly had storage and fermentation, as anyone from a farm family can tell you. My puerh storage has more in common with midwestern cabbage than all the tea in China. I will invite people to participate in a North American Storage Experiment using samples we all have lying around.

My storage is based entirely upon my local climate. What people do in China to age puerh is of little to no use to me in Wisconsin, this is my starting point. The climate I'm living in has been compared to Siberia, a climate of extremes, hot in the summer and ghastly cold and snowy in the winter. In summertime, we're baking in humidity and hot sun, which is great for my tea cakes. Next month I expect the temps to fall below -20 C, requiring heat in my house which will take the humidity levels to 38% or lower. At best, home humidifiers might get me to 42%. Nothing remotely like southern Asia.

In China, Malaysia and other very humid southeast Asian countries, controlling mold and humidity naturally leads to using porous clay jars, baskets, and cardboard boxes. Or even blocking humidity altogether with vacuum sealing.  When I started aging shou puerh cakes in 2009, I dutifully followed Cloud's advice about storage in cardboard boxes. Fast forward four more years, I had shou that smelled and tasted like cardboard box. So not only did I have cakes that needed a rehab solution, also I starting buying really good tea that I need to preserve. Topics about storage on the internet tend to either focus on Asia or climates measurably more temperate and humid than mine. One common solution for many tea drinkers is a non-working refrigerator.

Some of my cakes are stored in a non-working dorm fridge from the 1970s, a small square thing that in no way resembles the dorm fridges of today which are much larger. This thing maintains 69-74 F/23C and 61% humidity without any added humidity. With a glass of water I can get around 63%, and adding a soaked clay shard I can get 64-66%. Okay, though somewhat dry and cool. I'm also concerned that the 40 year old dorm fridge has plastics in it that I know nothing about. Do you store your tea in plastic containers from the 1970s? Didn't think so. So I've spent the past 6 months experimenting with local crock storage, and based in my early results I plan to move all my cakes to vintage American stoneware crocks.
It's ugly, but unplugged it works.
One of the traditional means of storing small amounts of food in the Midwest has been the Crock. Glazed pots and crocks create a microclimate that resists  changes on the outside, maintaining an internal consistency. We have an abundance of brown glazed Crocks which are used to store fresh butter, cheese, pickled fish, sauerkraut, fruit preserves, honey and syrups of all kinds.  Even today we can still buy good old Wisconsin aged cheeses in little brown crocks, and empty ones are easily acquired in local secondhand (charity) shops.

My childhood memories include tripping over waist high salt glaze Crocks filled with green molding sauerkraut. Farming relatives collected a variety of ceramics, but I have no idea what happened to all the family sauerkraut crocks. A few years back I starting buying chipped crocks and urns at secondhand stores during a hobby period when I taught myself how to repair chipped pottery. I worked on lots of different ceramics before moving on to my target goal of repairing mid-century modern Scandinavian ceramics (particularly Rorstrand workshop pieces from Sweden). I sold all my fine pieces that I repaired, but I still have a lot of crocks sitting around that I worked on to learn to repair chips.

Crocks create a microclimate that is slower to react to changes in weather. The lids are loose enough to allow a bit of air in and out. To add humidity, I use a clay pouch button. A pouch button is normally used for keeping loose tobacco or weed at the proper humidity. It consists of a clay disc inside a metal case, you soak the button in water for a half hour or more until the clay inside is soaked, wipe it off and add it to your stash. The humidity lasts around 4-5 days.
This pouch button has some history, but I'll never tell.
I also use clay shards from red terra cotta flower pots. Talk about cheap. I just break them up with a hammer, clean and boil the shards and soak them in water. These last about 3-4 days because they don't have the metal case of a pouch button. In the case of a tea that has had traditional style wet storage already, then I will use a paper towel or napkin secured with a rubber band to allow more circulation than a lid. The paper also tells me that the tea is a humid storage tea in case I forget.
Clay shards, humidity on the cheap.
One thing I have found is that the humidity in crock storage and fridge storage does not penetrate bamboo tong wrappers or heavy paper wrappers very well. It's a wrenching decision whether to remove these even though I know I should based on the drier quality of compressed tuos especially.

This past summer, I started using unwrapped puerh samples acquired from my purchases to see what ceramics create the best change. Here are some photos of things I've got going. All of these will create a micro climate for either fermentation or preservation.

McCoy 1848-1990

McCoy pottery is a long standing US company and had many changes in ownership. The company mainly produced stoneware intended for sanitary food storage prior to widespread refrigeration. So incredibly practical were their pots that McCoy did not even stamp mark their pieces prior to 1930 or so. I use Brush McCoy and later McCoy pieces, which are differentiated by their glazes.
Brush McCoy pots. 2009 CNNP 7572 and circa 2000 "Ding Xing Hao"
Brush McCoy (circa 1910-1926) pots are recognizable with their heavy gloppy glaze, and often glaze "skips"-- places that are unglazed because the factory missed a few spots.  I've had good results airing out shou puerh and Hong Kong "wet" stored aged cakes in Brush McCoy. Again, the glaze keeps something of a microclimate in the pot to keep the tea from drying out too quickly. I keep a clean paper towel secured with a rubber band over the top to prevent dust from getting on the tea. The 2009 CNNP 7572 was kept in a cardboard box for 4 years and smelled like the box, and got too dried out. Sorry Cloud, but the Box doesn't work here in Wisconsin. After several months in a Brush McCoy pot, the cardboard smell is gone and the tea now smells sweet like a shou.
L, unmarked probably early Red Wing, R Brush McCoy
Both of these pots contain dzpuer's 2013 1 kilo shou brick, refer to my post "The New Soft Shou." The Brush McCoy covered with a paper towel is getting more air circulation because I intend to drink the contents first. The "Red Wing" covered brown crock is thick and heavy, maintains a cool temperature and is designed for long-term storage.

I also have a mid-century McCoy soup tureen which is a perfect size for this tong of 2014 Ban Payasi cakes.
Mid-century McCoy piece in my last post about 2014 Ban Payasi
Red Wing, Minnesota

The quintessential sauerkraut and fresh water stoneware pottery, Red Wing is a bit more collectible than McCoy because pieces are geared for specific types of storage, such as whisky jugs, water coolers and of course their fermentation  crock. Some of the more unique pieces can be pricey, but the market has honestly declined for collector value. People who buy Red Wing stoneware nowadays intend to use the pieces for food or beverage storage rather than just displaying them. Salt glaze crocks are popular here with "survivalist" people who think that Obama is going to usher in the end of days. The pottery is thick to really create a sterile microclimate and be practically bomb proof.
Red Wing, Minnesota canister
My Crock here is probably a flour canister, and rather sentimentally holding a number of Mandala Tea (Rochester, Minnesota) puerh cakes. A pouch button provides additional moisture. I got this piece for under $20 because of a 3 mm  clay split in the lid, a tiny factory flaw. I've given away a couple of Mandala cakes but haven't sampled them myself yet.

Frankoma

Right now I'm favoring Frankoma pottery based on the changes I've seen in my samples. Frankoma pottery is based in Oklahoma and used local clays. In 1953, they began using a brick red clay which is the type that I like. My teas in Frankoma pots seem to be the most fragrant and retain moisture well.

A 2013 Bada Shan sample I got from Camellia Sinensis was very fresh, similar to the photo here.
2013 Bada Shan retail photo by Camellia Sinesis Tea, currently out of stock
The cake is 100 g and magnified quite a bit. You can see it contains some huang pian, but overall the sample I got was very green and tasted very sour. Nothing pleasant about it, so I dumped it into a duani tea caddy for a couple of months, the caddy you see as my avatar photo and again further below. This is a porous clay. The tea did not change in two months, it continued to look green and smell sour, which isn't surprising since the duani caddy is meant for a more humid climate. I moved the sample to this Frankoma red clay honey pot.
Frankoma red clay "Prairie Green" honey pot
After several months in this pot, the tea smells sweet and very malty, yeasty. The color changed from green to brown within two weeks of this storage.
Dry and green 2013 Bada Shan browned and malty now.
Other glazes similar to the Prairie Green shown here include Plainsman and Desert Gold.
Smoky tuos stored in Frankoma 5W Prairie Green bean pot.
Other types of American pottery.
Various samples in small pots.
You know you're old when the pots you made in school qualify as vintage. Two of these are my own creations. Left to right: back left, unknown ceramic containing 2007 Chawangshop Naka ("The Doctor is Naka-erd");  front, white2tea 1992 Big Tao Hong Mark airing in my own pot; back, red Le Creuset stoneware airing wet stored Tea Classico 1980s Ying Ming Hao ("Old Lady Tea,"); front, Tea Classico 1990s Menghai Red Star in my own pot; back right, an abused 2014 Misty Peak spring sheng resting in a chipped gaiwan and recovering.

Santa Clara and Navajo

Santa Clara is a type of black fired clay pot from New Mexico. I stored the above mentioned 2014 spring Misty Peak sample in a Santa Clara pot for several months. However, the Santa Clara did not respond well to humidity. The clay smells like graphite when humid. Pueblo desert type of pottery won't smell like graphite when properly used in New Mexico to store grains. But Wisconsin, my poor Misty Peak tea sample picked up the graphite smell and lost its tea smell. After a month just sitting in a gaiwan it aired, and brought back the smell, but the tea is still very green. I'm holding it for another experiment soon. Navajo pots with glazed interior are usable, but unglazed smell dusty and sandy like the desert if they get moist.

Edith Heath

On the west coast you can find plenty of California pottery from the 1940s-1960s. One really great line to consider is Edith Heath stoneware. This company is still going very strong providing household ceramics and tiles to Arts and Crafts-era homes and businesses. Their prices, even for vintage, are higher than for most other types of American ceramics, but you can buy factory "seconds" for about the same as other vintage ceramics. Heath pieces are very modern and minimalist and I love them. But Edith Heath ceramics proved too porous for my locale. The tea did not retain its humidity and moisture. But this type of pottery might be great for west coast cities with lots of rain. Just enough protection from drier days, but breathable enough for the rainy days. 

Vintage crocks abound on Ebay. About ten years back they increased in value because of the WWII generation collecting what they remembered from childhood. But now this generation has quit collecting and the market has tanked, although many antiques dealers don't seem to see that. I refuse to pay more than $5-40 for these pieces, and reasonable or free shipping. I take advantage of chipped, cracked and glaze craze pieces that collectors don't want.   Still, that beats trying to import jars from Asia that won't work here anyway.

So far I have not had any mold issues, but again my challenge is more about keeping humidity in rather than overly wet. If my tea got very wet, I'd either leave the lids off, or change to another storage method like baskets or porous clay. However, if I wanted to push the humidity I can do so anytime. My Bada Shan sample, and the fragrance and tea texture of my other crocks-stored cakes show me that change is occurring at an acceptable rate, and humid stored teas are able to air without becoming bone dry.

North American Tea Storage Experiment!
Daily Drinkers: "Ding Xing Hao" loose L, at R Crimson Lotus Bulang shous in duani.
What can you do to experiment with tea samples? Nobody wants to ruin a fine cake, but we all have samples lying around from past purchases. Why not see what storage options you can find and use your samples to experiment? I think vintage American stoneware crocks are a real possibility for the long term without worrying about plastics or cardboard flavors in the tea. They create a micro environment which can be controlled with humidity-adding devices like pouch buttons or clay shards for little to no money.








1-900-DialTea

$
0
0
Scams against Old Ladies like me are notorious in this part of the US. One of the most common scams is a letter or phone call telling the Old Lady she has won $10,000, and all she needs to do is remit her bank account number to the address listed. I've always been rather surprised how many old ladies fall for this and give out their bank number which results in a lot of work for their kids to remedy the situation and press charges. Except I just went ahead and gave mine up to white2tea for their new monthly tea subscription.

Now I know that Dear Son is going to read this and start yelling at me. But I couldn't help it. I'm smart to every trick except when I get an email from something labeled white2tea along the lines of: "Wisconsin Boy will send you his Private Stash every month for the small sum of..." well, all I can say is the world's scammers might be more successful if they start using the white2tea logo on their letterheads. An entire nation of Old Ladies will be lifting their financial skirts up high over their head.

Child, I'm gonna get Private Stash tea every month! I asked white2tea to please call Mauston Plumbers for me and Ask for Charlie to explain the situation, and why I won't be paying my plumbing bill every month anymore. Why should I have to pay for new plumbing for a toilet upstairs that I don't even use?? My own personal toilet is just fine. The cats have numerous litter boxes. My Housemate has a potty in his motorhome that he can go to. Dear Son is 24 years old and is surely old enough now to pee in the yard by himself. Seems to me if those guys want a working toilet they can pay for it so Mother can have her tea. And why do I need a plumber when I can have drain cleaner shipped monthly right to my door?

I'm not normally tempted by tea subscriptions. In fact I don't have any others. Most tea subscriptions contain a variety of teas, which usually are things like cacao papaya mint lemongrass hibiscus apple pie rooibos teas. But a tea subscription consisting of puerh, oolong and black tea is a no-miss as far as my tastes are concerned. I'm halfway to a tea subscription anyway. With my regular orders, sometimes I get lucky samples of off-the-shelf stuff. For example, if you checked out a few of the photos on my previous post, you might have seen this 1992 Big Tao Hong Mark.
(I almost typed something else along the lines of a Big Zhong, a byproduct of menopausal vivid dreams. Son probably thinks I'm halfway to senile old ladyhood screaming obscenities behind a locked and barred ward door. Check #2 for "danger to self." Lock me up, okay, just let me have my Xbox like you promised.)

Didn't I just have a 1992 tea recently? Sure enough, my post "Old Lady Tea" (September 2014, can't be bothered to be helpful and link it) featured a 1990s Menghai Red Star from Tea Classico which was labeled 1990s on the sample packaging, but the website says 1992. What's up with 1992, why am I seeing this particular year cropping up twice in a row? I don't remember anything about 1992 because Dear Son was only a baby, and I was probably psychotic that year from a lack of REM sleep. No wait, I do remember finishing my master's thesis that year in a dingy hotel in Milwaukee. On an Apple IIc. Aside from that, I have no clues to add and the 1992 Big Tao Hong Mark isn't up on the site at white2tea at the moment to help me out with where it came from. It's a loosely compressed mix of leaves, huang pian, sticks and a couple of pods like the one I found recently in a 7542.
[Okay. Did I just agree to regular payments to white2tea? I think I might have. Yes, I took Friday a.m. pills, I checked the empty med box.]

Up off my doughnut to boil the kettle which has a hole in the enamel because yes, I forgot it on the stove. Checkmark #3 for danger to self. I'm more than halfway committed at this point, certainly to the tea anyway. Ow, back on the doughnut and triancinolone ointment.
First steep of the Big Honger
Loose compression is good because they will soon take away my puerh pick I've stashed beneath my mattress. Pushing the whole sample gives me a nice dark brew with only a touch of traditional storage, mostly washed away by two rinses. Wow, strong stuff, bitter cuz I pushed it but that means plenty of aging time left in this one. Very cooling on the finish, that camphor effect I guess, gotta watch out for that at my age, because of what people might think. I'm not quaffing the Nyquil again, I stopped doing that last month. (Nyquil is an American liquid cold/cough menthol medicine with copious amounts of alcohol that produces a sound sleep, and children can easily buy it at any store without an ID check).
Mother is drinking the compost again.
Two cups of the Big Honger and I'm feeling rather energized, doesn't seem like qi, more like caffeine sweating. Okay save those leaves for later, a bit of sausage and cheese and I'm ready for my downer cup of shou. Here is another white2tea that I'm assured will be available soon, called "chocolate mini shu," circa 2000.
Bulk "chocolate mini shu" by white2tea
 Not sure what the "chocolate" is supposed to refer to, actual chocolate in the tea, or chocolate "notes" in the flavor? I don't see any chocolate in this, if the little bricks had any, it's probably long gone by now. The bricks range from 4 grams to 8 grams. I got a sample of this shu recently and ordered me a double. Like I said, I don't know when they will take away my pick so when that happens, I'm all set with these little squares.
Lu Yu, is that your shou or are you happy to see me?
I think this is a bitty benchmark of tea history because of the cooling finish and all-over tongue buzz. This mini brick comes from the days when shu was still a bit wild. In any case, this dry-stored shu has a hint of old paper smell, perhaps from previous paper wrappers or box storage, I can easily air that out. The soup is brown and very clean, slight fermentation smell left probably due to the tight compression of these squares. I still don't taste any chocolate but maybe that refers to the color of the soup rather than actual chocolate. Or maybe the sausage ruined my palate for today. Little bricks like this will come in handy for me when I travel to visit my sister.

Cuz I found a real surprise in the bag with these minis. Full-on evidence of the honey trap to lure Old Ladies.
A little love in the chocolate minis.
That's IT!

I'm really looking forward to my new tea subscription :)


The pet food company is after me too.


Requiescat in Pace.







Obsessed by Tea and How to Know

$
0
0

Under your bed is a box of tea that nobody knows about.

You've calculated in grams how long your stash will last.

You smell sheng at the office.

Your co-workers smell sheng at the office.

The kitchen canisters are full of samples.

At least one item in the kitchen is made from cherry bark.

More than one item is made with bamboo.

Your monthly VAT exceeds your pre-tax retirement deduction.

More than half your Facebook friends are tea drinkers.

Another third are tea dealers.

Baking soda is a friend.

You agree to eat at a nice Asian restaurant, but you're worried about the tea.

A tea ceremony doesn't include food.

You've gong fu brewed coffee and it works.

When cleaning the fridge you find a bag of sencha from last year.

Old teapots are sexy.

The living room lamp sits on a puerh fridge.

And the puerh fridge is full.

You can't remember if you emptied your tea table.

More than one saved Ebay search contains the word "gaiwan."

The wife takes your dry cleaning to Harney & Sons.

Your tea table has three pots of steeped leaves you can't throw out yet.

Someone drinks from your forgiveness cup.

You drank too much and now you can't sleep.

The holidays are coming up and you're afraid people will give you tea.

The holidays arrive and people do give you tea.

You pour shou into your sheng cup.

When the cats want your attention, they knock over your tea pets.

The leftover rice has tea leaves in it.

That kung fu movie had no tea leaves in it.

Kung fu is really about needing that stone tea table.

More than half your Bookmarks are tea shops.

A cake is just a sample.
The mailman starts delivering the neighbor's packages to your door, and doesn't bother to get your signature.

Your partner un-friends Yunnan Sourcing from your Facebook.

The backseat of your car has more than one tea thermos.

And the front seat has tea stains.

All your cups have tea stains.

The kitchen counter has tea stains.

The kitchen sink has tea stains.

The bathtub has tea stains.

The computer desk has tea stains.

So does the the bedside table.

And the kids' shirts.

You insist that mold is drinkable, and so is fungus.

No one else drinks water from your bamboo charcoal carafe.

That cake is a fake, but you buy it anyway.
It's not a fake, it's a tiepai.

Good news deserves a cuppa.

Bad news can wait until after the cuppa.

You've seriously considered the puerh.sk t-shirt.

When friends say "let's get drunk" you put the kettle on.

The kettle has an international plug adapter.

You're saving for Black Friday tea sales.

Teadb.org is a possible tax shelter.

More than one package is in Customs right now.

What she thought was a condom is really an oolong.

You see a white wrapper Tuo from White2Tea at the corner shop, and then realize it's a ham and cheese on a bun.

When you're honest with yourself, you know you'll never drink it all.

You do know the real final fantasy avatar Cloud is a puerh blogger.
Last Thoughts is what you drank before bed.

Being objective about tea is an idea you take seriously.

Five or more of these statements applied to you.

But more than ten are likely.

And you probably need to pee now.






























































The Fungus Amongus

$
0
0
Right away all you Smart Tea Drinkers know what I'm talking about here. Yep, it's fungus cake time. Now I've eschewed Heicha thus far in the interests of my time and money. I just don't feel I have the time or the money to spend on certain grades of tea. When life gets shorter, the bucket list of teas to be consumed tends to weigh in far more on premium experiences rather than wasted on lower grades of tea. But something medicinal about heicha caught my attention recently.

I read someplace about the "golden flower" fungus having a property that reduces heat in the body, specifically around the heart. I do have heart disease, which is controlled by medications, but a ticking time bomb nevertheless. My odds aren't great, assuming none of the existing plagues manage to take me out (and I am worried about that too). Another issue is menopause and the heat it generates, waking me in the middle of the night. Long story short, I could do with a bit less heat any way I can get it. And I can deal with drinking a not-so-swell tea for the sake of a little health benefit. In the world of herbal tisanes and Chinese medicine, I've drunk far worse tasting stuff to be sure.

My first purchase of Liu Bao is this Three Cranes Guangxi 250g brick I found on Ebay. As it happens, I have $17-and-change built up in free Ebay Bucks to spend, so might as well pick up some scratch as any tea drunk would do when given free money.
2011 Three Cranes Liu Bao
As of now, I don't have any particular reason for choosing Guangxi over Hunan or Shaanxi, except for shallow reasons based on no experience with heicha. Yet I have a few very nice shallow reasons. For one, I have Ebay Bucks to spend and my choices of heicha are fairly limited on Ebay. Two, I could easily choose Shaanxi because the Planet Shaanxi is the site of a decisive video game battle between the Turians and Humans in the Mass Effect universe. I'm definitely in love with a Turian named Garrus Vakarian. This is as shallow a reason, or as good a reason, to choose any heicha.
Wanna play Insanity with me??      photo credit
After all, this isn't high-end Yiwu we're talking about. This is sticks and scraps black tea. What's to debate about sticks and chop? Is one compost pile better medicine than another? If so, then please send expensive samples free of charge immediately and perhaps I'll change my mind.

The Ebay 2011 Guangxi brick (of summer 2010 material) catches my attention after sorting through the 2008 and 2009 bricks on Chawangshop. Seems like these things sell out of various years and I don't see another brick quite like this Ebay cake anywhere, unless I want eschew the Ebay Bucks to pay more for shipping someplace else. Another advantage is that this brick has been in Florida for a couple of years, so am hoping for at least some moisture in the cake. I haggle with the seller for a week over the offer price, paying less than you see on the sticker, and it is mine.
My hopes for moisture in the cake get dashed immediately. The words "iron compression" are an understatement. This thing is tough and dry. I could use it to break a few windows. And it smells like...nothing. Where did they keep this cake, in a freezer? How can it possibly get so dry in Florida of all places? The poor thing will need serious crock storage with additional moisture to loosen up. And I am aware that full golden flowers can take 5 years or more to completely develop. The cake appears to have dusty evidence of humidity at one point and possibly spores.

No way am I going to take a puerh pick to this cake in its current condition. In my younger days, I once gouged my finger real good trying to use a nail scissors to pry up some offensively girlish bows stapled onto a perfectly good pair of leather pumps, resulting in about ten stitches and a scar I still have to this day. Using a Dremel tool instead, I cut 2 mm depth guidelines which allow me to break off pieces by hand. But I break two ceramic cutting wheels just making those lines on the cake. You can see the mess I'm making in the process.
My cutting gives me some neat squares to send out to friends, and the brick now fits nicely in this vintage ceramic dish, augmented with a terra cotta shard soaked in water for moisture.
circa 1950s bird pipe dish, Hoenig of California #102
 I let the squares rest in a separate crock with a pouch button overnight. Got them out today, about 24 hours later, to mail off two. Holy Moly!! One night in the crock storage and golden flowers already, and the cake now smells like something! Check out the tiny flowers:
One night of crock storage and pouch button
The mess on the cutting board, about 7 grams of loose tea, sat out all night in the presentation cup and didn't develop flowers. Might as well drink that up. 125 ml water in the gaiwan, one rinse.
First steep the tea gives up a lot of its essence right away, deep color more brown than red. A bit of bitterness and black tea flavor along with a bit of the shou funk. Second steep just about as dark, this time I can taste the stems, a kind of woody paper flavor, but very smooth and slightly sweet. Third steep I'm increasing the time to a minute. I get minerals in my mouth, very full, like a salt flavor when licking my lips. Also a bit more pondy, reminds me of the smell of tree branches that have gone soft in the lake after sitting through the winter under ice. Not necessarily like wet storage though, just more like shou. The strainer catches all but the littlest bit of powder and the tea is clear and clean now.
First steeping
The tea starts to lighten at 5 steeps, I add a couple of minutes to brew times. Now I'm getting an interesting mushroom flavor and less of the woody pond. Not sure it's the "betel nut" flavor. Brewing a chunk would be a longer steeping experience, the loose tea here really gave itself on those first three steeps, around ten steeps nothing remains. Flavor-wise, initially I might go thicker and reduce the amount of water or increase the amount of tea leaf. Doesn't seem very bitter or strong, and too watery won't taste like much. Next time I'll add another gram or two.

This stuff is surprisingly GOOD. Got the qi sensation in the middle of my upper back. The flavor isn't so much about yum yum, though I do like minerally, salty tea, it's more about satisfying what a tea jones really is. How I crave this deep satisfaction, not just relaxation, but something in tea satisfies a hunger and thirst at the same time. My body needs whatever it is in aged tea, a physical aspect, like eating all my spinach or a chili cheese hot dog. A feeling like from balsamic vinegar on beef, or soy sauce on sauteed vegetables, melted cheese on toast, freshly roasted warm nuts, turkey with bread stuffing and sage, onions cooked with fish. It's not about the immediate flavors as about deep flavor and the body experience from certain types of food. I've read before that oral physical satisfactions behind food or smoking or drinking are about a deep yearning for love, about filling an essential emptiness. This Liu Bao, like many other teas I've had, is really bringing it even though I'm only experiencing a dry mess of leaves and sticks, not the fully developed cake as it should be.

As for cooling the body, and reducing heart heat, well, I don't know about that. I'm not feeling cooled at the moment. Maybe I need to give the tea a chance to work over time. Or maybe I need a nap. Waking up from a nap will be a nice little test, as I usually wake up overly warm. Hopefully I can grow out the flowers more in the tea cake and really develop that mushroomy flavor. Will try to remember to update this post with more photos later on. That's assuming I don't drink this cake up quick, which I just might.

Requiescat in Pace.

The Myth of the Taiwan Businessman

$
0
0
credit
Sometimes online dating sites really pay off. I have a date with a Taiwanese businessman! 
_______________________

Female for Male

Age: 55-75

Tea Drunk looking for Businessman in Taiwan for random absurd romping.

You: collecting tea cakes since 1980s minimum, private commissions etc. Older just tastes better. Looks not important. Loose preferred over tight, but it's more about how good it's stored. Stash required.

Me: I'm a lover of all things tea. Smart, lighthearted, let's go anytime attitude. Into numbers like 7542, 2469 and 8241, will 8582. Wife OK, not looking for husband, just wanna get into your stash and see what you have. No I'm not an escort, you got the tea, then honey I got the time.
_______________________

Holy cow, I got 73 responses!

Had no idea that so many Taiwanese businessmen with private commission tea cakes even exist.

The only problem is sorting out the real ones from the blokes just looking for a way to get a green card. Not that I object to such goals. But how will I know I'm getting the real deal, the guy with the stash? The guy who really did commission his own cakes, the guy with so much money to spend on tea that he maybe forgot to pick up his tea orders from Hong Kong? Or Guangdong. Or Kunming. This is the guy I want to find and Is He Real?

Via emails and messaging I figure out which ones know a Red Mark from a Yellow Mark, so right at the get-go I weed out quite a few fakers and idiots, bringing my list down to 54 candidates. Next, I discuss aging. I can hit a two-fer with this topic: old tea and by extension, dating really old women like myself. Wow, that plan hits 'em out of the park and now I'm down to just 27. I suspect that some of these remaining guys might be trying to sell me something, you know, cheap cell phone cases or maybe even fake tea in hugely expensive wrappers. Gotta ask, how many of you have bought a tea cake in packaging that includes Yellow Satin? Sure enough, now I'm down to just 8 candidates, an auspicious number and a much easier list to deal with specifics about each individual. I suggest moving the discussion of where-to-meet in real life off the dating site and over to one of the social websites, hoping to find out more.

Turns out they all have their own websites, tea blogs, Facebook, Instagram, Pinterest, Steepster, Teachat, Tumblr, Twitter, and a few more I need to run through a translator on Chrome past my 3rd grade level kanji. Some of these guys even have alternate avatars to reply "off the record" to all of the above, doubling or tripling the amount of reading I have to do. How can I possibly weed out who the True Taiwanese Businessman really is?

I ask for photos. Not of him, of the stash. After all, the whole point of owning expensive tea cakes is the show-off factor. The only issue at play here is that show-off photos are meant for men. Like around here where I live, they post photos of their black Ford F-150 or white Avalanche like a pheasant with tail feathers in the way that women post photos of their Murakami cherry blossom Louis Vuittons, but who wants to look at those? Never mind. The point is tea photos are the male locker room which isn't prepared to admit women. I try and be respectful even though I know, and they know, that I'm a greedy tea drunk woman at the core, so if they got the real goods then I'll likely be impressed. So what's to lose?

Lo and behold, they all have Menghai Red Mark cakes. Cause everyone needs to have at least one Maserati. Cloud can help me out with the Tea Criteria. At least five of the eight guys have Simplified Characters, their 7542 paper is Thick and Rough, their backsides are Hand Stamped, and their Junior has a Green Mark. Oh baby. But people, I hate to say it, the mark of the Real Man is gonna come down to his Tuos. Yes it does. Sticks and pods? So long. New papers? See ya. White wrapping? Can't be bothered to put on my dress. No wrapping? Not at my age. Bamboo straps? Now we're talking...

The only problem is, all eight guys have ALL of the above. How can this be? Sure enough, they say in all earnestness and most definitely they left that stash in Hong Kong, Guangdong AND Kunming. All three places. They'll send me whatever, whenever, at no cost. Well one guy tries to give me a Paypal address anyway. I just can't believe there can be this much private commission, no-label tea floating around, not to mention all those Red, Green, Yellow, Blue and probably Magenta Marks too. I'm sitting here Ready and Waiting to 3rd Tenet tea, lord I need me a cuppa and what's a girl gonna do?

Seems the best idea might be to sample widely, very appealing at my age. I can also pour me another round and wait for something better to come along. But then I remember the age-old wisdom which I'll call the Advice of the Old Tea Whore. Turn off the lights, hold your nose and try not to swallow.

Requiescat in Pace
















Tea Storage in Europe is a Glorious Crock

$
0
0

Stig Lindberg poster at Etsy
Since the first installment of "Puerh Storage is a Crock," I have had a number of people write to me about storage in Europe and the UK. Folks are looking around to augment their current storage systems. Anyone bringing up the topic of European ceramics is like asking an old lady "how are you feeling today" because I'll start talking and never shut up. If I move to Europe or the UK, I'd be storing tea quite stylishly in vintage ceramics. I'll share with you a few of my favorite vintage ceramics. Lest you fear we are gonna get too far away from gongfu tea, consider this vintage Veckla series piece by Sweden's Stig Lindberg (1916-1982).
Veckla Series by Stig Lindberg
Is this what we think it is? Not convinced? How about another one:

More Stig Lindberg Veckla which means "fold"
Not all Stig Lindberg is serious, a tea cup isn't storage but worth a look.

Lindberg tea cup, photo by Fiona Martin, Pinterest
Oh yes, I think some recovering teaware addict just lost six months of therapy progess. Mid-century modern Scandinavian ceramic artists took a whole lot of inspiration from tea. And it doesn't get any better than Stig Lindberg, so here's some more.

Black earthenware by Stig Lindberg
Porcelain or earthenware canisters with large cork or teak wood lids are easy vintage pieces to look for.
Lindberg Berså Wood Lid Canister

Living in a small space with no room? Hang a few crocks on the wall.
Stig Lindberg Berså hanging ceramic canisters
Don't buy those, I'm saving up the $167-and-change for the pair. And if I had just one or two cakes at a time to save space at home, I'd consider this crock/teapot/cup combination from Stig Lindberg's Von Ming line. That's right, I said Ming. No guesswork needed about where Lindberg looked for inspiration. 
Lindberg's ceramic Von Ming Teapot/infuser/cup combination
Ah, now one of my old loves, pieces from Sweden's Gustavsberg workshop. 
Carl Harry Stalhåne (1920-1990) for Rörstrand
The Gustavsberg workshop produced some of my favorite porcelain and earthenware of all time. I don't dare post the sublime green Argenta Art Deco pieces embellished with silver mermaids, or I might yearn for the tea cups I used to own in that pattern. And I'd better stay away from Gunnar Nylund's (1904-1997) work which was the real reason I got into repairing chipped ceramics to begin with, a slippery slope of addiction for me. Like lounging in a wet, rumpled bed with an old lover I haven't seen in awhile, back to a time when I had more hair with actual color. Many of the same Gustavsberg artists like Nylund worked for the Rörstrand workshop too. And they worked for Upsala-Ekeby.
Berit Turnell for Upsala-Ekeby
Can't go wrong with Kaj Franck storage jars from Finland for under €30. 
Kaj Franck canisters at allmodern.com
These jars have been in continuous production with improvements over time since 1953, over 60 years of experience speaks for itself. And I can't resist Franck's 1970s crock-y teapot with infuser from Arabia of Finland.
Arabia Finland Ruska Franck Teapot
Take twenty years off me and I could be combing vintage shops for as much of this pattern as possible. So modern, and yet also timeless. On Etsy.com I see at least five pages of gorgeous stuff by Kaj Franck. Can't handle going through them all because it's so hard to believe most of it is under $100. I've paid more than that for some of my Jian Shui teapots.

In Norway, I think I'd be crocking my 2005 Naka in Figgjo Flint, some of these covered bowls go for €30 or less! My only worry would be some idiot friend of mine might confuse my maocha with tobacco and try to smoke it.
1960s Flint casserole dish
Belgium lard crocks are now used as garden pieces, apparently.  If I were there myself, I'd rescue and boil these for my tea storage. 
Vintage Belgian earthenware crock
In Denmark, I'd be a complete hoarder of tea storage pieces without even trying.
Pot by Karen Margrethe Karberg, retropottery.net
Yep, I'd have no problem crocking up my tuos in Denmark because 1960s Soholm pieces are enough to make me swoon. I did own a vase at one point and sold it, alas. Don't click on the link without smelling salts, seriously.
Lidded crock by Maria Philippi
See, now I warned you not to click on that. Nor this next one neither unless you're prepared to hop a plane to the Netherlands. Can we guess which tea this Dutch artist probably drinks?
Carla Vrijer, Holland
In Germany, fermentation is a science unrivaled anywhere, and crocks with a built-in seal are my choice for oolong and shou puerh. The quality of Nik Schmitt's fermentation crocks, for example, easily rivals that of the former Hausch workshop. (warning, hide your wallet before you click on their website).
Cute Schmitt tea canister, but I'd buy me one of these crocks instead
Now I'm a good part Polish myself, and something about the gorgeously painted fermentation crocks from Poland tells me that these are forever purchases. France is about the most gorgeous tea with shops like Nina's and Mariage, the sublime first flush of everything tea, and food containers for every possible delicacy.  I've seen a lot of French lidded crocks in orange glazes, and I'd be hunting these down everywhere. Nobody has to speak French like a native to say Le Creuset.

Le Creuset stoneware 4.5L Bean pot at macys.com
Don't have to go too far over the border to find decent stoneware, I can't resist this 1870s made-in-Canada crock to hold a bunch of cakes.
1870s Ontario, cobalt glaze hand thrown Huron Pottery crock, Ebay
I'm told by a reader in the UK that "utility crocks" can easily be found in charity and junk shops. One choice for me would be 19th century vintage crocks by Doulton and Co., and I've seen big ones with lids for less than £20 on Ebay.uk. Only purple periwinkles could get my personal Hyacinth Bucket on better than this.
Doulton & Co. South Canterbury Museum
My own beat-up old farm crocks now seem rather sad after such a glorious look at European ceramics. Maybe I should aspire to something more pretty. Back in the US, Molly Kite Spadone makes fermentation crocks to order with transfers of pretty designs like these pine cones. 
Made to order fermentation crock by Molly Kite Spadone
Thanks to all of you who emailed me, I've now taken to my bed with Stendhal Syndrome, a ancient malady of fainting caused by looking at the finest art. It's been a few years for me since I've revisited some of these vintage ceramics I love so much. The prices have come down quite a bit in the past few years, making so many pieces very affordable. Compared to just five years ago, the market in vintage mid-century ceramics now favors the buyer over the seller in Europe much as it does in my US location. Economics have brought vintage retail prices down a bit for all of us.

Time for a recovery cuppa...Good luck with storage and let me know what you find! 



Teavana, Just what the Doctor Didn't Order

$
0
0
If you are familiar with the capitol city of Wisconsin, then you probably know the Beltline Highway in Madison, a stretch of 6-lane highway that never seems to get better. I can confirm it's worse, and I nearly take out the bottom on my car today as I drive to my doctor's appointment. Takes about twenty minutes to a half hour from east to west, and halfway getting nigh on 4 p.m. I get the thought I could sure do with a cuppa. I've been a VERY good girl leading up to my doctor's appointment, dutifully drinking my Liu Bao every night for the past three nights and staying away from tea drunkeness. Instead I've been watching videos of tea drunks on YouTube. But then halfway along the Beltline I remember the west side mall now has a Teavana.

Now, I've never actually been to a Teavana. Certainly I've read a lot about these shops and know what to expect. I rationalize stopping for tea on the grounds that well, I have a tea blog and this would be informational. Another justification is to see what the hype is all about, the hue and cry anyway. Never mind that I might blow my blood pressure test, and a Sephora shop looms close to the Teavana location which is yet another slippery slope of addiction. The final rationalization and the best one of all is I'm gonna be dead soon enough anyway, so drink all the tea I can right now. That particular thought always works when staring at tea cakes online. Another mile on the Beltline and no way am I not stopping, crazy old tea drunk.

The shop is surprisingly small, for some reason I expected a bigger place like a coffee shop with tables and so on. Get in, get out, buy that tea as quick as you can. The shop girl helped me with my late mother's IPhone so I could take a photo of the tea canister wall to prove I was actually there. I know there's something wrong with me when my elderly mother had a better phone than I've got and knew how to use it. I'm still in the clamshell flip phone universe. Okay, let's see if I can get this photo to show up on here:

Tea or paint cans?
"What have you got that's aged?" I inquire.

The girl shows me a Yunnan gold tips black tea of some sort. Looks dirty in the can, the thing would really need a good rinse.

"Okay, have you got any sejak?" my next request. "Korean," when I got a blank look in return. They have a Jeju Island green tea, the manager taking me over now because I am clearly going to be a tough customer. Even though I use a tea word she doesn't know, she needs to explain that a Korean tea is "between a China tea and a Japan tea."

"Does it have that marine, salty sea air on the first steep?" I ask. Actually I love me a Korean sejak with a minerally salt taste, crave the stuff, but I can't seem to find any to order lately that I'm certain will have that saltiness. No, the tea has a citrusy flavor, the manager says. She shows me a gyokuro instead.

"No thanks, I don't care for the spinach-y flavor," which causes the brewing girl to laugh. Looking over the canister wall, the rest of the teas seem to be flavored things which don't interest me much. Clearly the choice boils down to whether I want cold feet (green tea) or warm feet (the aged Yunnan).

"All right, I'll take the aged Yunnan black," I say while looking at the Famous Brown Rock Sugar, scary looking stuff. I've heard it's good but it looks dusty in the jars.

"I'm guessing you don't want sugar or milk," the brewing girl says, the one who helped me with the IPhone. "You guess right." Smart girl, knows her tea drunks from the casuals. "Straight up" and "neat" would be the way to put it.

So I painfully watch the long, long, long brew of a tea that is meant to be gong-fu brewed. Noting the shop has no gong fu supplies whatsoever, the closest thing being a covered cup with an infuser. That tea really needs rinsing, the question now burning in my brain, Are you Really Going to Drink That?

Whiff of the steam seems a bit fishy, and the tea brew is reddish like a shou. I don't dare open the lid and peek in, for I saw the cloudy tea well enough during the steep. Don't even want to sip it, maybe let it cool a bit. Fortunately the whole process takes long enough that now I don't have time to go into Sephora. Console myself with the thought that I can always order from them online and I really don't need to torture myself with Koh Gen Do just today. Besides I'm gonna be late for the doctor.

Barely make it in time for a quick pee. I start drinking the tea while awaiting my flu shot. It tastes like, Lipton. Something has been added to this, like a weird sweet taste. Maybe it's residue from a previous brew. It tastes like the mall. Actually it tastes like rubber Band-aids, adhesive strips used to cover small skin cuts. Well, I didn't expect to like the tea, it's the experience of it and crazy behavior on my part to have paid $3 and change for the cup. Suffer and offer it up for the sake of the blog.

Drinking the tea raises my heart rate about 6 beats per minute, but my blood pressure is just fine. Which is good considering all the drugs I take for it and even better knowing how much tea I consume in a day that I'm not telling the doctor about. Turns out she's been called up for federal jury duty so that's on her mind instead of asking me pertinent health questions that could expose my bad habits. My cholesterol levels have not lowered one iota. So much for puerh's cholesterol lowering properties.

Satisfied now that the only reason to drink tea is to get as drunk and silly as possible, I get back in the car and head home. Tea cakes, here I come.

Requiescat in Pace.





2002 Yong Pin Hao Red Yi Wu Zheng Shan

$
0
0
One of the reasons Good Tea so insanely easy to find is because I know people who have better palates than myself. At the top of my list are the guys over at Teadb.org. Every week the site features videos of actual tea brewing and sometimes "special guest" tea drunks. On Saturdays, Teadb issues an article covering a tea of the month or a feature article on tea vendors. I find the articles appealing because their analytical approach to tea is much like my own (minus my insanity). Teadb videos demonstrate a high level of skill in verbally expressing the experience of complex flavor profiles. Not to mention the teas look mouth-wateringly good.

But more than this, Teadb demystifies tea by focusing on brewing and tasting techniques. Eschewing myths, tea mysticism, politics, stories and hype, Teadb instead zeroes in on the two most important questions about tea: Does it taste Good, and How much does it Cost? With regard to good taste, Teadb displays skill in finding and discussing complex teas as well as the best brewing methods. As for cost, teas are broken down into price per gram or ounce, depending upon the offering. I have yet to be disappointed with any tea I've purchased from their video or article list. Today I am finally getting around to tasting a tea I bought five months ago after reading about it on their website.
Neglected in tea fridge.
I've had this 2002 Yong Pin Hao cake from Yunnan Sourcing for so long now that I've forgotten it is a Yiwu cake. When I smelled and tasted the floral I thought, this seems like Yiwu and how did I get so many Yiwu cakes in my collection?  Went and looked it up, sure enough Yiwu right there in the name. I bought this from Yunnan Sourcing's China site last spring, and have been storing it ever since. The cake is still available. Looking back at the website, my cake seems a bit more green in appearance by comparison with the YS photos. The underside of the cake is more brown, so mine might be a top o' the tong, as it were. A cut on the top of the very thin paper also supports a tong-topper guess-timate.
Winter natural light here adds a bluish tinge to my photos.
Hoping for a good Sunday tea drunk I work off 9 grams for my 125 ml cup. I see a number of sticks and pray they are not a bad sign. This cake is one of the  strongly fragrant floral teas I own. Been wondering what's stinking up my tea fridge, so now I know the Yong Pin Hao is one of the culprits. Gotta love it when a 14 year old cake still smells so sweet, pointing to good leaf and excellent dry storage.
I pretend I'm using Stig Lindberg tea ware
Initial flavor notes include the usual apricot char, plus grape-y floral and then what I call daisy vegetal. Wisconsin field daisies don't really have a sweet scent, plus they have stringy stalks which split into strands, giving off an acrid vegetal smell.

Thick, dark orange soup on the first steep which contrasts a bit from the reviews on Steepster I've read from recent months, which noted a honey yellow soup instead. Don't know if the summer storage worked on this cake or if it just turned a corner on its own. Subsequent steeps get thicker and very syrupy. When I pour the tea into the cup I don't hear any liquid splashing sounds, it's viscous like lube.
Had to use flash here. Probably forgot to mention my camera is circa 2005.
 Three cups in and not drunk yet. Reminds me of my old dad, a finger of vodka eventually turned into a fist. Then two fists. I'm heading for four fists over here at the tea saloon. Might be due for a Tea-aholics Anonymous dry-out so I can start getting wasted on tea again. Two days later and I'm still steeping away around 10 steeps. This is reminding me a bit of Last Thoughts by White2Tea in the flavor, but where Last Thoughts goes past 30 steeps for me, this one I'm already lengthening steep times once it hits 8.

Sigh, it's all good but what I really want is dark brown and muddy in my tea. Maybe that's an auspicious sign. I'll be tasting mud for eternity and pushing up daisies soon enough, and perhaps I'm just craving what's to come. A reverse of the nesting instinct. Keep up this tea business and I'll be wanting diapers, the logical direction to go next. Really hoping for the extended nursing home stint, got it all planned out now with tea cake horde, IV for caffeine hook-up, Xbox, and online delivery orders of cherries in port wine from Marks and Spencer. That last bit is the wishful thinking part.

I intended to take a photo of the tea leaves here, but jones-ing for a stronger fix I dump them in the trash without thinking. Sorry, in a bit of a hurry to move on to my Liu Bao. The problem with aged sheng is most of the caffeine is fermented out. I literally fall asleep after drinking shou puerh. Green and black (red) teas never entirely leave my cupboard, sometimes one needs a good strong fix.

Yunnan Sourcing has some excellent deals on Yong Pin Hao productions at a wide variety of price points. I paid the premium to get more aging because of my own situation. If I were younger, I'd be tempted by the 2003 Yong Pin Hao 100 gram more tightly compressed tuos of broken Yiwu tea bits for $6.50 each, what an inexpensive daily drinker with 11 years on it! Or the 2013 Yong Pin Hao Nannuo spring tips, a steal at $19. Even just going with the 2005 Bamboo House Yiwu is less than 1/3 of what I paid for my cake and probably another good tea. Anyway, you can find all these by doing a search for "Yong Pin Hao" on Yunnan Sourcing's China site and see for yourself.

Thanks to the guys at Teadb for the recommendation!
Viewing all 300 articles
Browse latest View live