of the Lazy Literatus

Tag: barrel-aged

Tea Tales and Mocktails

Two weeks back, I received an invite to go here:

smith-tea-hq-storefront

Okay, I go to both Smith Tea locations quite a bit on my own, but this was a special occasion. Like last year, this was their media-only holiday pre-release party. They were going to be showcasing their upcoming blends, partnerships, and limited edition holiday offerings.  And I was convinced I couldn’t go. Work and all that.

I was so convinced about my lack of attendance, I even shot off an e-mail to lead blender dude, Tony Tellin, to see if I could mooch some of pre-release batches for an article. Y’know . . . to pretend I was there. I’m good at pretending. None of that was necessary because I was magically able to convince my work to let me off early that day.

The Shiny ‘n New Smith Tea HQ

At the beginning of November, I received a curious invite.

Smith Invite

Well, that was new. I don’t get press releases very often, and I certainly wasn’t expecting one from Smith Teamaker. I knew they were opening up their new location, soon. But I had no idea that I was on the short list of press folks to cover said opening.

I, unfortunately, sat on the invite for a week because my mind was elsewhere. Thirty blogs of elsewhere. Smith’s press liaison, however, followed up to make sure I had RSVP’d . . . and I did. Right then.

The Making of Misty “Peat” Puerh, Part 1

NaNoTeaMo, Day 18: “The Making of Misty ‘Peat’ Puerh, Part 1”

In the Fall of 2014, I did a write-up about Misty Peak Teas, and a tea session I had with its head cheerleader, Nicholas Lozito, in his backyard. I had a lot of tea that day, and some of the thoughts swirling in my head were less than conventional. One of them occurred when I noticed this:

outside tea

Photo courtesy of Nicholas Lozito.

He had a giant bamboo platter of puerh leaves just . . . lying there.

I asked him what they were doing outside.

He replied with a shrug, “Oh, I just want to see what it does.”

He called it his “outside” puerh, and looking at it gave me an idea. One I vocalized. “Hey, do you think you can spare 200-grams of loose sheng?”

“For what?” he answered.

“I want to put it in a bourbon barrel.”

Booze Teas for Boob Teapots

Booze Tea for Boob Teapots – The Tea-Totaler Trilogy, Part 2

Around the year, 490 BCE, in the ancient Chinese kingdom of Yue, there was once a beautiful woman who was offered as tribute to an invading king. The woman was so marveled for her beauty, it was said that fish would forget how to swim if she passed by a pond. Her name was Xi Shi, and she was considered one of the “Four Beauties” of ancient China.

Xi Shi

Poems and stories have been written about her. Some industrious individual even sought to make pottery inspired by her very physical form. Well . . . part of her form, anyway. Okay, the perv settled on designing a teapot around her boob. The areola, to be precise.

The Xi Shi design is a classic one utilized for yixing clay teapots, and I learned of this on my last visit to J-TEA International. Owner Josh Chamberlain, while I was interviewing him for an article, showed me his collection of yixing teapots for sale. He regaled me with the ancient tale. Somehow, he knew I’d appreciate it.

And appreciated it, I really did. Not just for pervy reasons. I wanted that damn pot. Several months later, I got that damn pot, and one other.

boob pots

I was already expecting the Xi Shi pot, but I had no idea what the second one was. What did this have to do with anything? Why was it there? Josh couldn’t remember, either, but he assured me that it was also a boob pot of some sort. I checked the name of the product on his site: Red Yi Xing Melon Pot.

Ha! Melons . . . I chuckled inwardly. Yep, definitely another boob pot.

He also included another tea from his barrel-aged line to play around with – a loose cooked pu-erh that was aged in a rum barrel for about a month. It wasn’t available for purchase, yet, but he wanted to get my input on it. I had already set my sights on using one of the boob pots for another of his barrel-aged teas – Drunken Dragon – a three-month, bourbon barrel-aged oolong. This way, I could now play with two teas with both pots.

prep

The Drunken Dragon looked and smelled a lot like its predecessor – Bourbon Oolong. The charcoal-roasted, ball-fisted leaves ranged from dark green to beige-brown. What was different about this batch – in comparison to prior ones – was the smell. There was a deeper, liquor-like smell; likely from the added two months to the barrel aging. That and there was an almost chocolaty sensation on the back whiff. Very titillating.

The Rum Pu-Erh couldn’t have been more different from its bourbon barrel-aged brethren. Sure, the notes of earth, dust and malt were present. It was the same five-year-aged cooked stuff from the Bourbon Barrel Pu-Erh. However, the use of a rum barrel sweetened it quite a bit. It didn’t quite smell like straight rum, but the one-month scenting process gave it an odd cotton candy-ish aromatic vibe. Well . . . cotton candy dipped in liquor, anyway.

J-TEA had no specific recommendations for which type of tea belonged with which pot. There was a passing mention that the “Melon” pot was best for greener oolongs, but that was it. I used that as my barometer, and decided to brew a teaspoon of Rum Pu-Erh in the Xi Shi pot. The Melon pot was broken in with a teaspoon of Drunken Dragon. For both teas, I settled on a gongfu brewing approach – for ease more than anything.

Mulan

Small confession: I had no idea how to use these yixing pots. I should’ve consulted more knowledgeable tea friends in their uses, but – in my zeal – I forgot to. I was already halfway through brewing when I remembered this little oversight. Someone even informed me that I had to “season” the pots before use. I had no idea what that meant, and it sounded like “work”. I wasn’t in the mood to work. Day off and all.

It, also, didn’t occur to me that a clay pot would be piping hot when hot water was added. Nor did I remember how to hold it properly. I did remember a tea vendor holding just the handle, and placed a finger on the lid for support. When I did this the Xi Shi – and attempted to pour – nothing came out. I was, apparently, blocking the little nipple hole at the top. Once I removed my finger from it, liquid poured freely . . . everywhere.

spillage

Eventually, I (sorta) got the hang of it.

The Rum Pu-Erh brewed beautifully dark, and the aroma was both earthy and sweet. All three infusions I test drove with the pot turned up exactly what I hoped for. Earth, sweetness, and a touch of gasoline on the aftertaste resulted. The second infusion was the deepest, whereas the third was more nuanced.

pu-erh

The Melon pot was a different story . . .

Pouring that thing was like trying to use a urinal while drunk. No matter how well I aimed the damn spigot, I made a mess. On the second infusion, I tried to pour a bit more gingerly – same problem. By the third infusion, I figured out that – unlike the Xi Shi pot – I was required to plug the nipple hole with my finger. That concentrated the pour, making the aim of the tea stream flow true. (And, yes, I made it through that entire paragraph without chuckling.)oolong spillage

 

The three infusions of Drunken Dragon all brewed amber with an aroma of butter and oak. It was a much stronger yield of liquor notes this time around, compared to its predecessor. Just as I thought it would be. Bourbon showed up right in the top note, once the roasty introduction gave it some wiggle room. That, then, trailed off into the taster note territory usually reserved for desserts. Or boobs. Or both.

oolong

I can’t say I left this experience a more enlightened tea gentleman than I was before. Like with actual breasts, I had no clue what I was doing. But I’ll be damned if those barrel-aged teas didn’t give me the necessary liquid courage to give it the ol’ college try. Like actual women, one had to treat these teapots with delicacy . . .

boobs

And caution.

Cheating at Tea-Totaling

Cheating at Tea-Totaling – The Tea-Totaler Trilogy, Part 1

In December of last year, I gave up drinking. The reason? A missing hubcap.

poor car

I hit a curb while driving a wee bit sauced. No idea where said hubcap went. My theory’s Narnia.

My poor car was the impetus for what (originally) began as a year-long dry-spell experiment. However, in the ensuing six months, life turned out . . . rather awesome. Not sure what happened, and I’m not sure I owe it to sobriety or something else. Life kinda kicked ass. That and having that extra money in my khaki pants was rather nice.

I will confess, though, that I have been cheating a bit. I’ll explain . . .

In November of last year, I did a DIY experiment – aging black tea in a bourbon barrel. I pulled the stuff out after week, declared it “almost” a success, and did it a second time for much longer. That one wasn’t as much of a success. However, my trials and errors caught the attention of this smiling mad scientist – one TJ Williams, one-half of The Tea Kings.

TJ Williams

“I have a lab.” *evil cackle*

February of this year rolled around, and I looked at his company’s website and saw – in bold letters: Cask Aged Dian Hong”. They had aged a bunch of Yunnan black tea leaves in a 1-liter micro-barrel for a period of time. Said micro-barrel had previously housed . . . Appleton Estates spiced rum.

I messaged him about it, “Spiced rum barrel-aged Dian Hong?! Whaaaaaaaaa?!”

He confirmed it, rather proudly. I mentioned in passing that I had done something similar with a bourbon micro-barrel. He responded with, “T’was my inspiration.”

This marks the third time one of my weird blogs had let to a vendor’s future experiments. Shortly after that dialogue, I received both the Cask Aged Dian Hong, and another one – a bourbon barrel-aged Tie Guan Yin. The latter had been aged in a micro-barrel for two weeks, the barrel once being home to Johnny Walker Red.

(Bloggers Note: No alcohol is imparted on tea leaves. Just the scent of what was in the barrel. I swear.)

before brewing

The Tie Guan Yin Red Label leaves looked like many other mid-oxidized, ball-fisted oolongs of its type, but the smell was definitely altered by the bourbon barrel-ing. Along with the usual butter-flower aroma was a presence of peat on the after-whiff. Not strong, but definitely there; adding a dimension of delicious wrong-doing.

The Casked Dian Hong was a surprise and a half. The leaves were smaller-cut than the usual Yunnan black teas I ran into – leaf pieces ranging from brown to gold. What stood out, though, was the smell. Holy booze-gods, the moment I opened the can, straight rum pummeled my nostrils. Not as strong as the alcohol itself, but definitely as sweet and creamy. And that was only after a week of barrel-aging.

For the oolong, I went with a gongfu (or rather, gongfoolish) approach, but with the Dian Hong, I did the usual western-style brew. Both were brewed with boiling water. It was early morning, and I wanted to bleed whatever essence I could out of them.

After three successive infusions – at around thirty-to-forty-five seconds each – the barrel-aged Tie Guan Yin brewed light green with a subtle, herbal aroma.

Tie Guan Yin

No liquor note on the whiff to speak of. It wasn’t until I sipped each one that I witnessed the barrel contribution. Funnily enough, the oolong began with the subtle, liquor-scented note before transitioning to the usual Tie Guan Yin bells-‘n-whistles of butter and minerals.

As for the Casked Dian Hong . . .

Gaaaaaaaaahhhhhh! Before this, I’d only had one other rum barrel-aged tea. I don’t know what it is about rum, or even traces of rum, but the notes compliment well with tea’s natural, oxidized profile. Yunnan Dian Hongs tend to be on the earthier side anyway with trace sweetness layered throughout (in my experience). It seems only natural that those notes would play well with a malty, sweet, chewy . . . pirate-y rum.

Casked Dian Hong

To make a long description short(er), the rum and black tea paired perfectly here. The intro taste was like that of a liquor-filled chocolate, while the rest was like burnt oakwood-smoked ‘s’mores. Soooo much sweetness, sooooo much awesome. I could find something more sophisticated here, but I don’ wanna.

After brewing

Interesting sidenote: In future brewing sessions with both of these, the longer I steeped them for, the more pronounced the liquor note. It was like the scenting process was born to make love to tea tannins. Or something.

Epilogue

Many months later, I encountered TJ at World Tea Expo 2015. He passed along another rendition of their Cask Aged Dian Hong, but this time it’d aged in the barrel for two weeks rather than one. I decided to do a side-by-side tasting of both versions. The results? (Beyond this cheesy tea haiku.)

side-by-side-rum - TeakuTuesday

The longer-aged stuff tasted the same as the shorter, but with more of the spice and oak imparted due to the longer wait-time. I could drink it all day. Both of them. At the same time. Double-fisting.

If this is cheating at sobriety, then screw the rules.

Soba Up, Buckwheat! You’ve Had too Much Oolong Beer!

Obviously, I’m still playing catch-up. This is a flashback to late-January. I assure you, though, it’s totally worth it. Well, if you like tea in your beer. Moving along…

Tea and beer are my two favorite beverages in the world. Yes, the entire world. Both are also extremely habitual and have a lot of history to them. As a result, becoming geekily obsessed with the minutiae surrounding either drink is an obvious conclusion. So, what happens when I learn that both have been – somehow/someway – combined?

Answer: Geek overload.

I have tried several examples where tea and alcohol have been combined. In some cases, it was merely scented teas – either smoked or aged in a barrel – but on the other end of the spectrum are the alcoholic drinks that use tea leaves as an ingredient. My favorites of those, to date, have been an Earl Grey/tangerine zest ale and a jasmine green tea mead. I had yet to run into a brewery that found a creative use for oolong, though.

In the Fall, a friend brought to my attention that Oakshire Brewing out of Eugene, OR. had done just that. Alas, I was a whole week behind the times. The stuff had long since been drunk dry. Fast-forward to January: The purveyor of J-Tea – the pivotal “J” himself – brought to my attention that it wasn’t all done yet. In fact, the beer in question had a second go-around left. Better still? It was a gin-barrel-aged, Belgian-style saison that was brewed with Taiwanese greener-style oolong as an ingredient. An oolong provided by “J”.

Josh Chamberlain brewing oolong in a keg!

Josh Chamberlain brewing oolong in a keg!

My brain exploded.

The tasting itself was being held at a cheese bar in Southeast Portland, and – as luck would have it – it was also one of my days off. Only one small snag, though. I was still sick from the second round of “Le Plague”. I didn’t care; this was worth leaving quarantine.

I was able to form a mini-posse with two other friends to make the trip. Matt Van Wyk – Oakshire’s brewmaster himself – was also on-hand to answer any questions about the brew itself. (And pick his brain, I did.) The name of it was completely awesome: Frederic’s Lost Arm. I couldn’t tell ya what it meant, though.

The brew itself? Needless to say, it was superb. The Oakshire folks know how to brew a damn good beer, and this was no exception. It was strong on the juniper note toward the front, followed by the sour Belgian-ish-ness in the middle. The aftertaste was both sweet and bitey. The only disadvantage was, there was no sign of oolong to be found. I guess all the cask-conditioning willowed away any punch the green Formosa could deliver. No surprise there. Taiwanese oolongs can be on the gentle side. However, if I tried – even through my clogged state – I could remember a bit of a honey-like texture to it.

Short answer: “Dayamn”.

*****

On a completely unrelated night that same week, I finally tore into a sample that was sent my way by fellow writer/blogger, Jo Johnson. She had seen mention of soba-cha on my “Tea WANT!” list and decided to impart some to me. I knew it wasn’t a rare tea to come by, but I was extremely grateful that she beat me to the punch.

For those who don’t know, “soba” simply means “buckwheat” in Japanese. I don’t know much about the grain other than the name being applied to idiots. That said, when I took a whiff of the stuff, I was greeted by a pungently nut-sweet aroma that could rival rooibos in its delivery.

Alas, the taste didn’t quite reflect the aroma’s sweetness, imparting a nutty brew that reminded me of rice, barley, and sweetened peanuts. While surprised with the change in profile, I still rather enjoyed it. The little granules held up to a boiled-water/five-minute brew-up with surprising sturdiness, and it was a far cry better than some rice-laden teas I’ve tried. (Yes, I’m talking to you genmaicha.)

Speaking of genmaicha…recently, I had an epiphany to one day try this blended with a kabusecha-style tamaryokucha (heavily-shaded, curly green tea from Kumomoto) and maybe a dash of Nishio-grown matcha. Maybe I’ll give it a try soon and record the results…but that’s a subject for another schizoid rambling.

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