Well…this is embarrassing.
The day I finally got around to trying this – after whittling down my significant tea backlog – three revelations hit me square in the sack. Revelation #1: I had already written taster notes for this tea. Revelation #2: I had already taken pictures of the tasting experience. And Revelation #3: Said pictures had already been posted online. Not only did I feel like a schmuck, but an absentminded one to boot.
That said, once I reviewed my notes and visual aids, I fondly remembered what I had sipped. Like a mob hitman remembering his first victim.
Okay…bad example, but a perfect(-ish) segue to…
This young pu-erh was harvested in March of 2013 from Bada Mountain in Yunnan Province, China. Said region is one of the oldest tea producing areas, and the wonderfully-named “Bada” is one of 26 classic tea producing mountains. Pulang and Hani minorities grew and harvested the tea leaves for this offering from some of the world’s oldest tea trees.
JalamTeas offered this up to my (un)usual scrutiny in May. By vague recollection (and by that, I mean Instagram), I remember digging into the beengcha (tea cake) the following month. In my defense, there was a lot going on in June. World Tea Expo, for instance.
When I dug into this, I chuckled at the mountain’s name. Most would immediately think of a Goodfellas riff, what with the “Bada” moniker. Me? I was more reminded of this cute li’l gem.
As with all of JalamTeas wares, this was a beautiful beengcha. The pressed green and silver-tipped leaves gave off a springtime scent of flowers, soil, and something vaguely herbaceous and medicinal. It also came across – in scent and sight – as older than it actually was. I almost felt bad that I had to tear a sliver from the li’l, pretty cake.
There was only one way I could approach this – gongfoolishly. Several smaller infusions at about thirty seconds or more, boiled water for the base. For the purposes of playing, I prepped three steeps to start.
The aroma wafting from all three amber-gold-liquored cups was straight leaves from fruit trees. Unlike the deceptive dry presentation, brewed up, this came across as young as it was. On taste, I felt like I was sipping a non-astringent, low-altitude Darjeeling green tea. With a pu-erh-ish lean, of course. I have no clue how this will turn out in a few years. With other young shengs, one has some idea how they’ll age – this one was a little more secretive. I don’t mind a little mystery.
I’ll revisit it again in five years. If I don’t drink it all by then, that is. Chances are, though, I’ll forget. Must be age catching up with me; perfect for aging pu-erh.
Now get off my mountain…I mean, lawn. I mean…where am I?