At the end of October, I did something completely out of character. I traveled to a city I’d never visited . . . for a tea festival. Stranger still? I flew out for said unknown (to me) city on Halloween. Nothing about this—my motivation, my ambition, what-have-you—added up.
The city? Chicago.
The event? The Chicago International Tea Festival.
A week ago, an article made the rounds in the greater tea community sphere. At the time it came out, it rubbed me the wrong way. So much so, I originally meant to pen a rant pointing out where it went wrong, and how the thesis was misguided. After thought and prayer (yes, both are useful), I removed my hands from the keyboard. However, I still cheekily “memed” about it, and shared it privately.
My reason for doing so—or so I expressed—was that artisan tea (or rather, specialty tea) wasn’t having a moment; it was about having a moment, and sharing that moment with others. Fellowship should’ve been the focus, not the subject which brought the fellowship together.
As per usual, though, in my attempt to make a point, I completely missed the point. Looking back at my trusty ol’ Bible showed me exactly how much I did so. I’ll explain.
Sometimes, in my search for new teas to try, I get drawn in by mentions of particular producers.
Image owned by Camellia Sinensis.
This is Wei Zhong He. I first learned of him through my dealings with Kevin Gascoyne (Camellia Sinensis Tea House’s “Darjeeling guy”), and he particularly caught my attention for one reason. He experimented with using Darjeeling first flush production styles, and incorporated them into a Chinese hong cha (red/black tea) process. But there’s more to him than that.
Earlier this year, a fellow tea blogger sent me information on an Indian tea growing region I’d never heard of.
Image owned by Ketlee
A place filled with old(er) growth, semi-wild assamica forests, which bordered Assam to the East. The state: Manipur. I knew nothing about this Indian state, other than the fact that it bordered Myanmar. That and it was well within the zone with which the Indian strain of Camellia sinensis var. assamica (a variety and subspecies of tea tree) grew plentifully. For some reason, I shrugged at this. Mainly because of the “wild” claim. How wild could these trees be, anyway?
Over a year-and-a-half ago, I wrote an article discussing the nature of sheng cha.
It didn’t go over well.
I used a Vietnamese sheng puerh-style tea from Son La province as a part of my thesis, and it also helped spark further discussion about how prevalent the process was in Northern Vietnam. Short answer: not much.
Five days ago, a vendor friend posted this article on Facebook:
I didn’t read it, which is usually what not to do, but I’ve seen such tea topical articles before. The direction they were going in was nothing new. As such, I left the following curt reply in answer to the title of the article alone: “Any way you damn well please.”
I should probably get around to talking about World Tea Expo 2019, huh?
To be truthful, my delay in doing so wasn’t related to my usual brand of procrastination, but rather some trauma. Stuff I’ve had difficulty processing and— unfortunately— it’s inextricably linked to my World Tea Expo jaunt this year. Some have advised that I should just talk about the Expo proper and leave out the trauma, but I felt that would be narratively disingenuous. Like it or not, it was a part of the experience.
That said, I found a way to record those events—the good and the bad—in a manner that’s thematically sound. With his permission, I borrowed a narrative device employed by my blogging compatriot, The Devotea. Several years ago, he wrote a brilliant blog called “Backwards”, and I’m lifting some outline inspiration from it.
Alright, on with the show.
As some of you have seen—via my social media—in June, I was at World Tea Expo.
For those who don’t follow me on those platforms . . . I don’t blame you. But that’s beside the point. In the middle of June, I trekked down to Las Vegas for my fifth World Tea Expo. (Oh wait, I already kinda said that.) I’ve . . . got a lot to say about that, but this missive isn’t about that, rather it’s about something else entirely.
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