Category: Tea Features Page 18 of 26

On January 21, 2015

Imagine a college student discovering tea for the first time, and finding a teashop to frequent. After many visits during his college tenure – and following many dialogues with the owner – he mentions in passing, “I’m going to make a trip to India.” The owner of said teashop then says to the college student, “You should visit tea gardens while you’re there.”

That sort of conversation – albeit paraphrased – actually did take place between then-collegiate, Raj Vable, and Josh “J-TEA” Chamberlain. That small dialogue led Raj to form a partnership that would blossom into a fledgling tea company in late-2013. The company was called Young Mountain Tea, and its mission statement was near and dear to my heart: To promote direct links between tea farmers, tea vendors and tea consumers.

While still a young company, their lofty goals included carrying teas from already-existing small growers and sharing their stories. (Always my favorite.) As well as promoting the development of new farms in new growing regions. (Also my favorite.)

I had the pleasure of meeting up with Raj at Tea Bar roughly a month ago.

He explained their story to me, and also passed along some of the teas they were carrying. The one I had read about prior to the meeting – and immediately caught my eye – was Indi’s Gold. It was a black tea produced in Nilgiri under the management of one Indi Khanna – who may just be one of the most adorable Indian growers ever. Just watch the video and marvel at his adorableness . . . and the epicness of that mustache!

http://vimeo.com/101498539

(Seriously, I want collectible plushy dolls of some of these grower dudes.)

Beyond the goal of growing the coolest mustache ever, Indi Khanna took a swath of land belonging to the Coonoor estate in Nilgiri, and turned it into an all-organic tea farm. Until recently, production had been so small scale, that teas produced on this small plot of land hadn’t been introduced to the U.S. market. As of a year ago, due to Young Mountan Tea’s introduction, that has changed. I was only a little excited to be one of the first to write about it.

Okay, a lot excited.

The leaves were small, tight and curly – much like a Bi Luo Chun – resembling snail-like, conical shells. Raj had informed me that Indi Khanna had them hand-rolled this way as an experiment. Whatever the reason, they were lovely leaves. The aroma they gave off was both spicy and fruit-zesty with a dash of something that reminded me of unsweetened vanilla.

There were no brewing instructions for this on the Young Mountain Tea site, but Raj recommended treating it with a light-touch. I figured a Darjeeling-ish technique would work well enough – 1 tsp. of leaves, water at just under a boil, and only a two-and-a-half-minute steep. It was my usual, go-to approach for Indian teas, anyway.

For the sake of full disclosure: The first brew I did at a full three minutes ended up extremely bitter. Like, Assam bitter but with more groin-punching. Two and a half minutes was the steeping sweet spot. One should not go over that.

The liquor brewed a medium-bold amber color with an oddly smoky/spicy aroma. I likened it to a Keemun aroma with a slight Darjeeling bend. On taste, the forefront was all Nilgiri – slightly astringent but satisfyingly apricot. That transitioned into a floral, almost jasmine-like middle, and trailed off into sweetness, spice and silk. The aftertaste was lingering, but not unwelcoming. A second infusion at a slightly longer time turned out even fruitier.

Nilgiri is the one growing region in India that has continued to surprise me in recent years. Often given a bad rep for low-quality teas, farmers like Suresh Nanjan and, now, Indi Khanna have been doing their darnedest to dispel such notions. I’m also overjoyed to see new companies like Young Mountain Tea taking a vested interest in their development.

I’ll keep a bird’s eye view from my cup. In my pajamas. Wishing to grow an epic mustache.

Bug Bites, Tea Huts, and Sipping Wisdom

On January 14, 2015

Early on in my tea writing “career”, there was one name that always popped up – Lindsey Goodwin. She was one of the tea writers on the scene, managed her own consultation website, and was the resident caffeine guru for About.com.

And at one point in time, she was also a Portlander. As one might imagine, that meant her name came up in regular, real-life conversation as well. “You haven’t met Lindsey?” “Oh, you really should talk to Lindsey!” Referencing her like she was a one-woman, all-knowing, tea drunk Grateful Dead concert.

LindseyBowlTeaLg

Eventually, I did reach out to Lindsey about three(-or-so) years ago to do an interview for my personal website. And then . . . I completely flaked on it. Partly out of complete shyness, and because . . . well . . . it’s me. However, by the time I mustered the gumption to touch bases again, she’d fallen completely off the tea grid.

There were whispers throughout the tea community that she was traveling around the world, doing research for a forthcoming book. Others said she was spotted in Taiwan, helping someone start up a teashop. There was no concrete evidence to corroborate any of these mythical claims. For all I knew, she found the one gateway to Narnia.

Then a funny thing happened.

In June of 2014, I received an e-mail from her wondering if I wanted a special delivery of Global Tea Hut’s magazine and tea. So, that was where she’d ended up! I knew next to nothing about the operation. The only bits of information I had were gleaned from fellow tea blogess – Nicole, Tea For Me Please – who described them as her “favorite tea hippie commune”.

Mi Xiang prep

Further digging turned up some fascinating information. Apparently, they were the “global” arm of an actual place in Miaoli, Taiwan called The Tea Sage Hut. And it was just as Nicole had described – a commune full of tea drinkers. That is probably over-simplifying their mission. Their primary goal was to spread knowledge and appreciation of “the Leaf” in an almost Taoist/Zen-ish way.

It was all beyond me.

What I could understand, though, was their global subscription service. That mission statement was simpler to define. And brilliant. As far as I knew, no one was putting out a monthly tea magazine that also included a thematically-linked tea with it. The June issue was centered around – not one, but two – teas of the same name; Mi Xiang, or “Honey Orchid”. One version was an oolong, and the other was a red (black) tea.

It was part of a sub-class of organic teas often jokingly referred to as “bug-bitten” teas. Due to a lack of pesticide use, tea plants were exposed to katydid onslaughts. As the little leafhoppers bit the leaves, a chemical change occurred to the leaf itself, resulting in a coating that imparted a honey-like taste. Eastern Beauty was the most common tea of this sub-category.

These particular Mi Xiangs were created by a gardener referred to as “Mr Xie”, located in Ming Jian, Nantou County, Taiwan. He was a third generation farmer. For him, the ideal picking time for bug-bitten tea leaves was between June and August.

Global Tea Hut covered his story in 2012 and revisited it in their June issue. His farming techniques matched their mission statement of promoting organic and sustainable tea growing practices. The fact that they featured two of his teas for comparison matched with my mission statement: Geeking out.

The difference between the two teas was obvious just from sight alone. The leaves for the “red” tea were . . . well . . . redder, at least in the stems. The leaves for the oolong were an alternating green and purple – like most mid-oxidized, ball-fisted oolongs. As for shape, both looked the same. The differences (beyond color) didn’t appear until I put my nose to the tin. The red version was noticeably sweeter and nuttier, whereas the oolong was more floral. Exactly what I thought the difference would be.

The Global Tea Hut magazine recommended simply brewing by the pot. Gongfu was suggested but not required. Given that this was a bug-bitten tea, I wanted to see what the nuances were. So, I opted for gongfu. (That and my teapot still smelled like Earl Grey from a prior brew-up.)

Mi Xiang Oolong

Three separate infusions – varying from thirty-to-forty seconds – resulted in light-green liquors and a honey-like aroma. Taste-wise, each one had a buttery introduction that transitioned quickly to straight sweetness, and ended on a white wine-like, Gewürztraminer-ish note. As expected, it was very similar to other bug-bitten oolongs I’d tried, if a little lighter on the body.

Mi Xiang Red

At the same brew times as the oolong, the red came out dark amber for each infusion. The aroma was nuttier, possibly even more mineral. On taste, the first infusion was a lot like the oolong version. But as I worked through the successive steeps, it got sweeter and deeper until I ended up tasting straight-up honey on the last.

If I were to pick a favorite…

I would have to go with the red. Taiwanese bug-bitten blacks are solid. They’re sweet, layered and popping with character. This one was no exception. It hit all the right marks on my palatial subjectivity. The oolong was great as well, but I was going through a bit of a black tea phase

Unfortunately, I wasn’t feeling any of the Tao-ish/Zen-ish stuff the magazine was talking about. That is, until I did a brew-up of the Mi Xiang red tea in a travel mug before work. I was stressed from additional responsibilities I’d taken on at my “day job”. That particular day promised to be extra difficult. By my third infusion . . . something amazing happened . . .

All of that stress just . . . washed away. Nothing mattered. Everything was finite, insignificant and trivial. That and I accomplished all of my tasks with some semblance of calm.

By sheer coincidence, around that third infusion, I received another e-mail from Lindsey Goodwin, explaining her remarkable, tea nomadic story. About how she ended up at the Tea Sage Hut, and her three-year stay there. She closed off the letter with, “Wishing wisdom with every sip.”

For a fleeting moment, I understood.

New Tea on New Year’s Eve

On January 2, 2015

It was New Year’s Eve . . . and I slept in. No major surprise there; I always sleep in on my days off. The only plans I had for that day were helping my brother with some housework and a friend’s party later on. In the meantime, I had a moment to myself to reflect on the year that was, and to think of a proper way to usher it out.

2014 was an odd year.

Not “bad” odd, mind you – just odd. It didn’t come close to topping the kickassery of 2013, but wonderful things did transpire. Also, some not-so-wonderful things. The good eventually outweighed the bad, though, and I looked back on it with a slight nod of, “That’ll do.”

It was a year of growth and new discoveries. Sure, I stumbled a bit on the hike, but overall, I learned, prospered and came out of it for the better. Both this blog and my regular website did better than ever, I contributed to other websites outside of my usual haunts, and guest-blogged for others. Some experiments worked; others didn’t. And along the way, I met amazing people.

I wanted to close out the year the way I came into it. Something that personified my mission statement – in tea as well as in life. The answer was simple – cup a weird tea from a weirdly-named country with a weird story behind it. Same as always.

Digging this one up started from a conversation with The Snooty Tea Person. One of our whimsical talks brought up the idea of tea grown in Europe. She had just discovered the Azorean Gorreana estate, and shared her exaltation for their green tea. I had tried it years ago and agreed with her. She mentioned that I should look into a new UK company that carried it – What-Cha.

First off, I thought, Great name for a tea company. Then I perused its website. They carried many unique offerings from several growing regions outside of the normal tea collective – the aforementioned Azores, Vietnam, Malawi and . . . wait-what?!

Azerbaijan?!

Azerbaijan

I knew nothing about the country – aside from its funny name and its touchy history with the former USSR. A quick glance at the Almighty Wiki mentioned that it was located in the Caucasus region (giggity!), and that Georgia was northwest of it. From that, I could discern that it was in an ideal area for growing tea – particularly the Russian-made cultivars derived from Sochi. I had teas from Georgia and Iran – two of its neighbors – and both had similar flavor profiles.

What-Cha had included some Azerbaijani grown tea as part of its Discover Europe Collection. The local brand name for it was Azercay. The products they produced were blends from different tea gardens found in the Lenkoran and Astara growing regions. The Azercay company website also mentioned that one of their flagship products was flavored with bergamot through a “special technology”. Well, that sounded pretty sweet.

Of particular interest was how What-Cha even discovered the existence of Azercay. Apparently, they had come across a blog written by the tea community’s resident Oolong Owl. I have to admit, I was slightly jealous. Not only was she the inspiration for a tea vendor’s product search, but she’d beaten me to writing about a new tea! To her credit, though, it was a great write-up.

Naturally, I went about procuring the Discover Europe Collection . . . and immediately bee-lined to the Azercay bag.

The leaves were soot black and had a hand-rolled appearance. They were curly, twisty, and all matters of unevenly beautiful. Honestly, I was expecting fannings or dust. Whole leaves were a pleasant surprise. The dry aroma they gave off was semi-sweet and sorta raisin-y.

What-Cha recommend 1-to-2 teaspoons per cup with a steep time of five-to-six minutes. Boiling water for the brewin’. I followed those to the letter.

The liquor brewed bold-‘n-dark crimson with an aroma of bitter malt and wood. There was also a leather underpinning to the scent. On taste, there was an astringent introduction, but as I sipped further, it mellowed out into a Keemun-like, Assam-ish experience. There was also a bit of Yunnan forest floor feeling in the finish. Quite an unusual – but strong! – black tea.

Can’t say I ran into anything that tasted like “special technology” bergamot flavoring, but whatever . . .

It was still a really good, burly tea to end the year on. Just as quixotic as 2014 itself.

Greek Mountain and Growing Pains

On December 23, 2014

Two things have been very consistent the last couple of weeks. I’ve written a lot about weird herbs lately, and I’ve been spending a lot of time at my parents’ house. I was starting to wonder if both were somehow – cosmically – connected. Proof showed itself on Saturday.

My sibling/roommate failed to tell me that our dryer was kaput. I had to learn of this morsel o’ knowledge while on the phone with my mother. Being the kind soul that she was, she offered up their dryer in case I had to do laundry. That was a given since I was one of those poor souls who worked a job that required a uniform. Weekly laundry travails were necessary.

Doing laundry at my parents’ house; I felt like a college student again.

Originally, though, my plan for the evening was to dip into a giant bushel of Greek Mountain “tea” I received from a new outfit called Klio Tea.

Heck with it, I thought. I’ll just brew it at my parents’. I packed a kettle, a cup, the Klio bag, and my clothes – all in a laundry basket – and off I went.

The good Nicole “Tea For Me Please” Martin had sent Klio Tea my way. My love for all things “Greek” and “Mountain” were common knowledge in the tea community. I first wrote about that fascinating herb back in 2010, and I’d extolled its virtues in one form or another ever since.

What was unique about Klio’s offering was the emphasis on orthodoxy. Sure, I’d had Greek Mountain before, but I honestly couldn’t tell you where it came from. This was the first outfit that was transparent about the origin and picking standards of the product they carried.

This particular batch hailed from Mount Othrys (wherever that is), and was organically sourced and unprocessed. They simply picked it, cut the stocks if necessary and packed it. What I hadn’t known this entire time was that the herb was picked fresh; no oxidation was meant to occur. Most herbs were dried before packing so that they could decoct or infuse better with water.

The freshness showed.

Upon first opening the bag at my parent’s house, the kitchen was bombarded with a scent of Mediterranean wilderness. Equal parts honey lemon and mint plumed through the air. A long time had passed since I last prepped Greek Mountain “tea”. I was oddly nostalgic for the smell.

For brewing, Klio didn’t even bother trying to explain it on their site. It’s kinda hard to describe; I should know. Instead, they did something better, and offered up this instructional video:

Their guide was “close” to my approach, but I preferred it another way. Putting a handful of herb stocks in, and boiling it for ten minutes, then decanting. No additional infusing.

Either process resulted in a yellow-to-amber liquor . . . and a kitchen that smelled like a Greek hillside. It was just as wonderful a sensation as always. I even shared the results of my labors with my mother – who was getting over a cold. (Since that’s what the herb was known for.)

finished brew

Did I like it? Answer: Does a Greek philosopher ask too many questions? Of course I bloody well liked it! It was like lathering my body in the finest oils, taking a hot bath in flowers, and being waited upon by nubile maidens from a neighboring village. All the while being spoon-fed fresh lemons from a chained cherub.

But . . . that’s not an image I would ever share with my parents.

Oh, would you look at that . . . laundry’s done.

When You Pine for Yaupon

On December 21, 2014

Yaupon is a species of holly native to the southeastern United States. It is a close cousin to two other holly species – guayusa and yerba mate – and, like those, it is also caffeinated. It was used as a common ingredient by several Native American tribes in an herbal concoction called asi – or “black drink”. Said tisane was an important part of male-only purification rituals.

In 1696, a Quaker merchant – Jonathan Dickinson – observed this ritual firsthand among the Ais people of pre-statehood Florida. The ritual included an unfortunate result . . . vomiting. Since then, European settlers incorrectly assumed that it was the primary herb that induced the reverse peristaltic reaction. And, so, the plant was given the unfortunate delineation – Ilex vomitoria.

A book was even written about the subject.

For years after learning of this “black drink”, I was fascinated by it. Yet no one had bothered to try and cultivate it, yet. Aside from some random YouTube videos describing it tasting like yerba mate, I found no one selling the stuff. Unless I wanted to go to Florida and pick it myself, there was no way I was going to try it. Perhaps folks didn’t think they could market something called “vomitoria”. Wonder why?

That all changed around 2012. Small outfits started cropping up touting this “new, American caffeinated herb”. Perhaps it was due to yerba mate’s rise in popularity, or the insurgent arrival of guayusa on the herbal infusion market. Whatever the reason, it was finally here.

I didn’t get my first chance to try it until World Tea Expo 2014. A company out of Florida called Yaupon Asi Tea had a booth. Available for tasting were some of their blends and their flagship cut yaupon. I remember it tasting a lot like guayusa, which was a good thing. (I wasn’t the biggest fan of yerba mate.)

After the Expo, I got in touch with them to acquire some for a comparison. Among their many wares, they carried both a whole leaf version of yaupon and a cut leaf variant. The whole leaf version was there because it was the more traditional presentation of the herb. A side-by-side tasting intrigued me.

Several months later (er, just yesterday) I finally sat down and gave ‘em a whirl.

The whole leaf yaupon had an appearance of – well – whole leaves that were freshly picked and oxidized. I was quite surprised to see a purplish hue to some of the leaves – likely due to an abundance of the chemical, anthocyanin, also found in Kenyan purple tea. As for aroma, there wasn’t much of one besides a dry, forest-bedding-like presence.

The cut leaf version was a markedly different beast with needle-like parts along with the requisite leaf parts. The color of the leaves was greener with some purple strewn about. The aroma was also more minty, sweet and welcoming. It reminded me strongly of guayusa in this form.

For brewing, the directions on the Yaupon Asi Tea site were fairly straightforward. They recommended a standard herbal approach – boiling water, five-minute steep. I did exactly that to both.

The whole leaf yaupon came out practically clear in the cup.

Even more so than a white tea, at least those had a yellow tinge to the liquor. There was a bit of a flavor change, but one had to search for it. It reminded me of tangy olive leaves and a bit like mint. Some residual sweetness showed up on the finish, but – like the rest – it was mild.

This required a second attempt with moar leaves at a longer steep time. Seven minutes sounded about right.

Vast improvement. Some color showed up in the liquor, and the flavor – while still subtle – was sweet and spry.

The cut leaf version was . . .

Woooonderfuuuuullllll.

The liquor was a deep amber-green – giving off a sweet, almost artichoke-y aroma. On taste, it opened with a sweet and herbaceous kick – similar to guayusa – dried out a little in the middle like yerba mate, but ended with straight creaminess on the back. It was far more layered than either of its holly cousins. And, dang, if I didn’t bolt upright from a caffeine kick or three.

I liked both versions quite a bit and for different reasons. The whole leaf yaupon worked as a late-afternoon pick-me-up, whereas the cut leaf was a balls-to-the-walls get-your-ass-outta-bed morning beverage to the core. For overall flavor experience, if I was pressed, I’d choose the cut leaf as an everyday beverage. Sure, the whole leaf is more traditional, but I’m not really a traditional kinda guy.

All said, I was glad to have yet another two tastes of ‘Merica in my cup(s) – sans vomiting.

Cuckoo for Ko’oko’olau, Mad for Mamaki

On December 16, 2014

Roughly four years ago, I wrote about a unique Hawaiian herb often used for herbal infusions. It was called Mamaki, but its science-y delineation was Pipturus albidus. The herb was a cousin of stinging nettle, and I felt some of those traits showed up in the taste. However, the product I had was blended with stevia, so my attempts at separating them may have been faulty.

In the same article, I made mention of another herb (or rather, set of herbs) collectively referred to as Ko’oko’olau (genus Bidens). They were often heralded for their purported health properties, and – like Mamaki – were used for tisanes. I never thought I’d get a crack at Ko’oko’olau until an opportunity came…from an old coworker.

Said coworker returned from a stint to Hawaii with her boyfriend. While there, they also spent time with her boyfriend’s brother…who just happened to be the co-founder of Mamaki Native Hawaiian Herbal Tea. They leased land (ahupuaʻa) in the district of Punaluʻu through the Kamehameha school district.

Yes, I thought that, too.

The goal of the school district – regarding the land – was to promote Hawaiian sustainability, but they only took in a few farmers at a time. And only if there was a clear goal in mind.

Well, tea is a clear enough goal to me.

I met up with my former coworker a week before my birthday, and she presented me with several sample bags from the farm. I was expecting the requisite Mamaki blends, but was shocked to discover a humble sammich bag with felt writing. It read: “Ko’oko’olau”. I just about leapt out of my own brain. It was from the farmer’s personal stash. Four years had passed, and the elusive herb came to me.

Alas, in the hustle and bustle of Fall, I completely forgot brew it up. It wasn’t until the ol’ coworker inquired about the tisanes a couple of months later, my memory finally jogged. She asked me if I had tried them yet.

I replied with, “Uh…trying them right now as a matter of fact.”

*Cue nervous laughter*

Then hastily got to brewing.

First up was the Ko’oko’olau.

The herbal mix was mainly leaf parts and twigs, but what I found surprising was how oxidized they looked. They were so brown that I wondered if they’d been roasted to speed up the drying. That was something I felt wasn’t done enough with herbs – oxidation. I always wondered if the flavor profile on some herbs would be more robust.

I wasn’t sure what the proper brewing technique was for this, so I went with a default tisane approach: 1 tsp., a 6oz. steeper cup of boiled water, and a five-minute wait.

The resulting liquor was a light crimson, similar to a Darjeeling black – only more rustic. There wasn’t much of an aroma, but it was pleasant and slightly sweet. The taste outright slapped me with excellence. It was like a Japanese sencha had an extramarital affair with lemon verbena…and invited a gingersnap cookie to film the proceedings. Expectedly herbaceous, but sweet and calming.

While I was on a roll, I figured I would fire up the kettle for some of the farm’s flagship Mamaki. I was initially disappointed to notice that the loose leaves were practically fannings.

Not only would straining be difficult, but I had no clue how the flavor would turn out. The smaller the leave particles, the more surface are for flavor yield – true – but I was skeptical. Optimistically so, though.

The brewing guide for this one was also a little bizarre. Per the MNHHT site, they recommended bringing 8 cups of water to a boil, adding a tablespoon of herb to it, and letting the boil continue for another five minutes. Once the boil was done, they suggested letting the concoction steep for another fifteen. Preferable results also came from overnight infusions.

Those instructions barely made me flinch. I sounded very similar to the way Greek Mountain “tea” was brewed. Bring it, I challenged.

I’ll be darned if they don’t know what they’re talking about. The liquor brewed just as dark as the Ko’oko’olau with a nettle-ish aroma. However, the true test of its character was on taste. Unlike the whole leaf Mamaki I tried years ago, this was creamy and sweet. It was more akin to guayusa or Yaupon holly than it was stinging nettle. The aftertaste was layered and felt like a blanket of…niceness in its lingering velvety yumminess.

As to favorites, though, gotta go with the Ko’oko’olau. It was something I wish I had more of. Mamaki was only a hair behind in flavorful experience. According to the Almighty Wiki, the genus Bidens family of plants are threatened by habitat loss. Now more than ever, attempts to promote farming sustainability are crucial. If only to put more delicious herbs in my cup.

Tea and Tubas

On December 14, 2014

I picked a helluva month to quit drinkin’.

Okay, not “quit”, per se, but definitely a self-imposed sabbatical toward beer. A beerbatical, if you will. Over the last couple of years, I’d naval-gazed my relationship with alcohol. Sure, I didn’t overdue it often, but questionable decisions had been made. That and it was no longer as “social” a beverage as it once was.

I hung out with maybe five other dudes who drank – never all at once. That’s not a party; that’s a Family Guy episode. And I won’t even go into the missing hubcap on my car.

As a result of this catharsis, I decided a break was in order. I wish I’d known what was ahead of me before I did so. Work drama, matters of the heart, and other familiar growing pains manifested in rapid succession. Good things were happening, true, but they were automatically offset by a perpetual feeling of being kneed in the groin.

I needed an outlet – a social one.

Enter the Portland Tea MeetUp group.

Tea – the beverage that never steered me wrong. I drank it often, but I was rarely social with it. Sure, I was social online about my tea consumption, but rarely in real life. There was a burgeoning tea community present in Portland, but I stuck to its periphery like some kind of creeper with a cup. I thought it high time to change that.

As luck would have it, a meet-up was scheduled for this weekend. The reason? Freaking tubas!!! In Downtown Portland, situated at Pioneer Square, was a holiday tuba concert. Tubas…playing Christmas carols. And we would drink tea during it.

Everything about that sounded amazing.

The biggest issue for me? Finding the perfect tea to bring. The internal struggle didn’t last long. I chose the best black tea I’d had all year.

Black Fusion, Autumn Flush 2014, from the Doke Tea Estate.

Yes, I’m aware I’ve already written about it. There’s even a Batman Brews video floating around extolling its virtues. But that was only the first flush version. The one I had in my possession now was the autumn flush. And it was perfect.

Like the first flush, there were notes of nuts, spice and malt – betraying it’s assamica heritage – but for the autumnal crop, there was an added nuance. I didn’t quite put my finger on it until the day I brewed it for the tuba gathering. There was a strong sensation I had while tasting it that reminded me of honey. The autumn flush was sweeter and more textured than the first.

*Sigh* Oh yeah…back to the meet-up.

I was almost late to the gathering. Traffic was a particularly artful brand of “SUCK!” that day, and I had a prior engagement on the other side of town. Along with my expected road rage was a feeling of…dread. It wasn’t as if I hadn’t socialized with tea before, but rather that I wasn’t particularly good at it. I’m a bit of a geek, can’t help it.

Luckily, so were they. The moment I arrived, I felt like I was in like company. Three folks brought canisters of chai. One particular gent was rockin’ two travel carafes. One held a high-oxidized Taiwanese oolong; the other, a seven-year-aged purple varietal pu-erh. I partook of both.

The purple varietal…oh my.

Another of the group members brought cups and homemade banana bread for the sharing. It went perfectly with…well…everything. Particularly with the tea.

And in the background, tubas played. The square was jam-packed with people, however. I think I caught a glimpse of, maybe, one tuba – two at the most – until the crowd dispersed. If I had one complaint about the performance, it was that the carols they chose were too down-tempo. If you’re rockin’ a gosh-durned tuba, you must have bombastic carols in your rotation. “Little Drummer Boy”, “Hark! The Herald Angels Sing”, etcetera. While the concert was nice, it faded into background noise over conversations of tea and general geekery.

I did have moments of occasional social faux pas, though, particularly when I uttered the line, “I am a man, and the world is my toilet!” Yes, I was sober. Tea drunk, maybe…but sober.

In closing, I think I could get used to this “tea socializing” thing.

Next time, I’ll work on the tact.

Three Teas, Two Trips, and One Garden

On November 5, 2014

J-TEA Oregon Grown Minto Island Black

Over the course of the summer, I saw repeated updates that frustrated the hell out of me. Tea drinkers, far and wide – from California to New York – were taste-testing a new, Oregon-grown oolong. The folks behind Minto Island Growers had finally soft-launched their own outfit, dubbed Oregon Tea Crafters. They commissioned a gentleman by the name of Balez Oh’Hops Hanger to do the processing.

Here it was, an Oregon-grown and processed tea…and I was the last person to try it. Even new Portlandian transpants were trying it before me. This had to be rectified with due swiftness, and in September, I planned a trip to the source – Minto Island Growers HQ in Salem, OR.

1 old plot

The garden was just as I remembered it from my visit the year prior. It was a garden; it was pretty. One could kill hours just wandering its wilds. A few things had changed, however. Aside from the 1989-planted, half-acre plot of tea bushes of yore, next to the Minto market stand was a brand new tea plot.

new plot

What made it different from the old plot was fact that it was cultivar-specific. The one from 25 years ago was a test-plot to see if tea plants could grow in the Pacific Northwest. Whereas the new one focused on which cultivars thrived better than others. It was an exciting development to my phone-affixed eyes.

After an informal walk-through of the new plot, I picked up the oolong and green tea, took a photo of the old tea plot…

Oregon Tea Crafters

Then made my way back home.

Upon my return, though, I realized I had made an error. The half-ounce bags I picked up…?

same green

…Were the same exact tea. I’d failed to fetch the oolong.

God. Damn. It.

So! At the end of the week, I went back to Minto Island and fetched it. The last oolong bag, no less. A week or so passed, and then…another Minto-related update appeared in my various social media feeds.

Image mooched from J-TEA’s Oolong Times blog

That’s right. Team J-TEA made a Minto trip over the summer, harvested some leaves and was putting out a Version 3.0 of their Minto Island Black Tea. Of course, I had to get a hold of some – just to complete the trifecta – but I wasn’t making a third trip out to Salem. That and a Eugene trip to J-TEA HQ were not in the cards. I went the wholly-boring (and entirely lazy) route of ordering it online.

After all that effort, how did all three teas fare?

Oregon Tea Crafters Green Tea

Oregon green tea

I remembered learning that this one was wok-fired, much in the same way Chinese green teas were, but the flavor profile turned out far different. It reminded me of a Darjeeling green tea in delivery – crisp, smooth and not very grassy. With just a bit of a fruit finish.

Oregon Tea Crafters Oolong

Oregon oolong

It took me a little bit to pin down what this reminded me of. The dry leaf scent reminded me of a Nilgiri at first, but when brewed, the character changed. Approached from a gong fu angle, it was very similar to a higher-altitude, greener-style Ali Shan – if slightly lighter in body. Aromatic with a floral underpinning.

J-Tea

This was far different from the first and second versions of Minto black that came before. The leaves were more oxidized, the aroma was subtler, and the leaf-rolling technique was different. Part of this was because of the later leaf-plucking. Version 2.0 (in 2013) was plucked in May, while this was prepared in mid-summer. And it showed.

While a bit of the Taiwanese influence was still present in its sweet taste, a woodier/mintier character took point this time ‘round. The overall experience was akin to a far subtler Dian Hong, rather than a bug-bitten Taiwanese Ali Shan black. That said, it was as forgiving as ever, putting up with whatever brewing punishment I dished out. Ten-minute steeps and all.

Which tea did I like best?

For taste? Going with the oolong. For ease, effectiveness and overall experience, though? Going with the black tea. Any tea that I don’t have to think too hard on brewing in the mornings is a clear favorite. That and Team J-TEA’s had three years to toy with their technique.

Worth the trips – plural?

Always.

tea plants

With Open Eyes

On October 31, 2014

While it has never been expressly stated, it’s common knowledge that I don’t usually write about tea blends. If and when I do, it’s usually if they have a story behind them. About a year ago, Stacy Lim of Butiki Teas had urged me to try some of theirs, but I was hesitant. Then she explained the story about one such blend.

I was hooked.

Back in December of 2012, Stacy was contacted by Sally Taylor – the daughter of James Taylor and Carly Simon. She proposed that a tea blend be donated to a rather ambitious artistic project. The venture was called Consenses. Its goal was to gather 130 artists from several different mediums and have them build upon each others inspiration with new creations. Think of a weird amalgamation of “Pay It Forward” and a game of “Telephone”. One artist would come up with one piece, another (perhaps a writer) would follow that up with a piece inspired by the prior. Rinse and repeat.

Butiki Teas contributing branch was thus:

She was tasked with coming up with a blend inspired by a painting featuring two creatures. Even more daunting than that? The one following her up – doing a story based on her blend – was Wes Craven.

Yes, that Wes Craven.

To top it all off, she only had a week to prepare it. Blending the right ingredients usually took months of trials. After a few attempts, she had come up with a combination – Long Jing (representing past expectations), strawberries (symbolizing new beginnings) and butter toffee (for hope). Ginger rounded out the blend, I guess, for sass. The blend was dubbed “With Open Eyes”.

The result was a not-too-pungent bouquet of green and bold red with an aroma of berries and wine. At least, that’s what I thought. The problem with using any sort of berry for a tea blend – strawberry or otherwise – is that dried fruits don’t really contribute much flavor. They contribute some, but not enough to be noticeable.

Flavoring is required to create a bolder profile. Luckily, the natural flavoring used for this blend was vegan-sourced. It was the one time I was happy to see the word “vegan” in anything. Reason being, some natural flavorings come from rather…uh…disgusting sources. Case in point, some strawberry flavorings comes from the anal glands of this poor li’l bastard.

That’s right, if you have something with strawberry flavoring, and it’s not vegan…you’re probably ingesting beaver butts. You’re welcome.

Relief aside, the blend smelled wonderful, and I was happy to see that the green tea base used was Long Jing. Not a cheap tea to use. For brewing, I went with the recommendation on the sample bag: 1 teaspoon in 8oz. of 180F heated water. Steep time – two minutes, thirty seconds.

The result was a light green liquor with a pleasant aroma of berries and cream. Ginger was nowhere to be found in the aromatics, but that was alright. In all likelihood, it was roundhouse-kicked by the toffee. I was okay with that.

As for taste, well, it did exactly as promised. Long Jing’s winy notes took point, followed closely by a strawberry-rich middle, and a creamy finish. It did taste like new beginnings.

In August of 2014, the Consenses gallery finally opened up in Martha’s Vineyard.

Butiki’s blend was front and center, next to the other pieces in its artistic branch. The Wes Craven story it inspired was called “The Man Who Vanished”. I hope to someday encounter it.

I had received the blend to try back in April of 2014. Butiki Teas announced they were closing their virtual doors in October of that same year. I didn’t dip into “With Open Eyes” until later that same month. By then, it had completely sold out, which wasn’t a surprise to me. I just wish I had told this story sooner.

In any case, I raise a toast to the Butiki family, to all they’ve done for the tea community at large, and the stories they’ve left behind. May they greet their new beginnings with open eyes…

…And without beaver butts.

Feeling the Universe’s Misty Peaks

On October 16, 2014