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of the Lazy Literatus

Tag: Oolong Page 7 of 8

I Can’t Believe It’s Almost Not Oolong

By

On September 10, 2013

In Tea Features

Norbu Tea has been one of my go-to hookups for weird teas for – well – almost as long as I’ve sipped. Greg Glancy seems to have a palate similar to mine, or at the very least an unrelenting geek-ish lean for teas with stories behind them. I finally had the pleasure to meet the man behind Norbu at World Tea Expo in June. Finding his booth was like hunting down a Wonderland rabbit-hole, but once I did I was glad for it.

Greg in garb.

Greg in garb.

One of the strange, new items I picked up from the Tsou-Vayiyana booth he was co-hosting was something dubbed, “Ali Shan Hong Cha”. It already had my attention for having my favorite Taiwanese tea mountain – Ali Shan – in the title. The leaves were ball-fisted like an oolong but darker in appearance. The aroma it gave off reminded me of unsweetened chocolate and oak barrels.

It was one of the first teas I tore into when I returned home.

Without exaggeration, it was unlike any black tea I’d ever tried. When I brewed it Western-style, the first characteristics that emerged were malt and (the aforementioned) unsweetened chocolate. With further infusions, the sweetness kept creeping up until it was indistinguishable from a black tea from that region. A bit of oolong minerality showed up by the third steep. Yes, this lasted three strong, Western-style steeps.

I also found that the longer I steeped it for, the sweeter it grew. Even more so than a Ruby 18. There were quite a few times when I infused this sucker before taking a shower, came out fifteen minutes later, headed off to work, and it was still good. Nary a tannic overtone.

Western-style

Something was amiss about this so-called “Hong Cha”.

Greg informed me via Twitter that he and the growers had agreed to redub the tea “Ali Shan Red Oolong”, and asked for my thoughts on it. I put my teasnob cap on (more of a metaphoric fez, really), and asked if it was fully oxidized…or only mostly oxidized.

Max

He informed me that it was the latter – 90% oxidized, just shy of being a “Hong Cha” of its prior title. This prompted me to experiment with it some more. I had yet to wrongfu the heck out of it.

One particularly low-key and experimental day, I decided to do it “gongfu-ish”-style to see what would happen. I dusted off my ol’ gaiwan, took about a teaspoon of the ball-fisted leaves, boiled some water (then let it sit for a minute), and played with multiple infusions.

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Done this way, the oolong-ish characteristics really showed through. Not in a typical Ali Shan-ish sorta way, though. Far from it. A first infusion gave a medium-to-full-bodied brew like a brandy oolong, while further infusions darkened, felt roastier on the mouthfeel, and developed an alternating palate of wood, leather and…well…more dark chocolate.

If I were a choosing man, though, I would say I preferred the Western approach. It was just dark enough to handle the longer steep times, and more of the flavor was imparted per cup. That…and it handled lazy brewing perfectly.

My kinda tea.

Lazy Teapot

Teapot Image Mooched from Yanko Design

Wrestling a Wild Yeti

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On April 16, 2013

In Tea Features

The yeti – or Abominable Snowman – is a possibly mythical, ape-like beast native to Nepal and Tibet. The name “Yeti” derives from a Tibetan compound word that loosely translates to “manbear from the rocky place”…or something like that. “Abominable Snowman” was coined by a British lieutenant-colonel on a Mount Everest expedition. They located some tracks that their Sherpa associated with the illusive snowbeast.

My first “exposure” to the legend – or at least, the one that I remember – was from Disney’s Matterhorn ride. Along the rollercoaster’s path, you encounter a rather lifelike animatronic yeti on one of the many twisty turns. To a five-year-old, it was piss-your-pants scary. Beyond that moment, I never paid the mythical man-bear-ape-thing much heed.

matterhorn_yeti

Until I saw an oolong named after it; an oolong from a country I didn’t know did oolongs.

I’ve had plenty of teas from Nepal.  Not sure what region they came from, since I suck at geography, but I can run off the names of tea estates forever. Many of them had he word “Ilam” in their names. Still not sure what that means; too lazy to google it. What I didn’t know was that there was an actual region in Nepal called Ilam.

Nepali Tea Traders is a company based in Colorado founded by Maggie Le Beau. They are the first (as far as I know) company specializing in sourcing teas directly from private farmers in Nepal. I know plenty of vendors that source from tea estates, but not from actual farmers. The company first came to my attention when I saw mention of a Nepalese pu-erh. That sent me a-buzzing, and while perusing their site, I ran across their oolong selections. One had the word “Yeti” in it. By manly mandate, I had to try it.

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The leaves were black and gold with a curly, hand-rolled appearance – similar to a Darjeeling or Assamese oolong. It differed from these in scent, however, bestowing a toasty and slightly fruity aroma to the nose. Tearing myself away from the bag was a chore; I could’ve whiffed it all day.

Typically with any type of oolong, I like to try it both Western-style and gongfu-style to see what the differences are. But a tea with a name like “Wild Yeti”, there was only one way to go : Go big or go home. I brewed this in a pint-sized filter mug for the full three minutes using boiled water. Screw nuance, I wanted to see what kind of punch it delivered.

The liquor brewed up as ruby dark as any black tea I’ve ever had. The aroma from the steam was like…plumbs dipped in cocao batter by way of…lava? Unusual but enjoyable. Flavor-wise, I was in for a surprise. This actually tasted like a full-on mid-roasted oolong from Taiwan, very much like an autumn Dong Ding without the graphite lean.

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Most Himalayan oolongs maintain a bit of their muscatel nature, regardless of the oxidization. While this was still very pekoe-ish, it gave me more of an oolong impression than those of similar processing from Darjeeling. That and there was a very smooth, wine-like finish. I like wine; and I like…uh…finishes? Wait, that came out wrong.

Point being!…I love me some knew tea-ish experiences, especially good ones. This was mostly definitely a good one, and one that I’m hopped up on while writing this. Wow, this has a caffeinated kick. I could really wrestle a yeti now. And lose horribly.

© Kate McCurrach

© Kate McCurrach

For more information – or to buy – this beast, go HERE.

Sidenote: Nepali Tea Traders has launched a Kickstarter campaign to help further their business model. Their goal is to expand their merchandise selection by buying some of the Ilam region’s first flush 2013 teas directly. This is a Kickstarter campaign I have NO problem throwing my hat in for. As per their business model, because they’re purchasing these teas from the private growers directly, more money goes to them and their families.

Throwing in the Towel after a Tea Fight

By

On November 27, 2012

In Tea Musings

A couple of weeks back there, I attended a different sort of tea meet-up. The Portland Tea Enthusiasts’ Alliance and The Jasmine Pearl Tea Merchants joined forces for a movie night. The movie in question? Tea Fight (or “Dou Cha”) – a Taiwanese/Japanese co-production centering almost entirely around tea, and the people who drank it. One of the Jasmine Pearlites described it as “tea porn”.

Sold.

The Jasmine Pearl were serving up hojicha and Mayucha sencha, while PDX Tea Dave brandished some Taiwanese oolongs. Fitting given the origin(s) of the movie. I was looking forward to it on a scholastic level; I’d never seen a movie that focused completely on tea. Well, except for a rather cool, teacentric episode of Sherlock. The writer part of me wanted to see how it was done so I could compare it to my own tea-fiction-y efforts. Another thought that ran through my head: When/where did Portland get so many hot tea chicks?! (It was ruining my concentration.)

Ahem…

The movie opened with an anime sequence – yes, an anime sequence! – explaining the backdrop. In the distant past, there were two rival tea clans – the Female Golden Tea Clan and the Male Golden Tea Clan. The Female clan brewed tea that instilled a sense of calm and peace, whereas the Male clan’s brew instilled passion and aggression. Due to a misunderstanding involving a Japanese tea merchant (surnamed Yagi), the Male Golden Tea Clan exterminated the Female.

In the ensuing kerfuffle, a little boy combined both the Male and Female liquors, drank them, and turned into a dragon. Realizing the wrong they’d done, the Male Golden Tea Clan scoured the remains of the Female clan’s village for any surviving tea bushes. There were none – save one. A single plant rescued by the Japanese merchant, Yagi.

And that’s just the first ten minutes of the movie.

The rest of it deals with the descendants of the two tea clans and the father/daughter heirs to the Yagi family. I won’t give anymore away than to say that the movie plays out like Karate Kid meets Romeo & Juliet by way of Sideways. The story is told in broad strokes – as it should be – and particular emphasis is placed on tea brewing. Albeit exaggerated.

From a tea geek’s perspective, I found some of the brewing techniques fascinating. The Male Golden Tea Clan pressed their tea into beengcha cakes, scraped leaves off, stone-ground them to a fine powder, and then whisked. The Female Golden Tea Clan…uh…did tea-fu. (No, seriously, it looked like they splashed water in the air, and went all Crouching Tiger with it. Quit epic.)

The Yagi family stone-ground their own matcha!!! I want my own stone-grinder! If I had one, I could finally realize my dream of making green rooibos matcha. And, wow, I’m getting way off topic.

In short, the movie was cheesy in all the right ways. It was the first media-ish piece I’d seen that captured the true grand scale that tea’s multi-millennial history encompasses. And it took me over a week to watch it. I’ll explain…

I actually had to leave the PDX Tea/Jasmine Pearl event early for…beer. Yes, beer subverted tea. A friend of mine made a homebrewed oatmeal IPA and was unveiling it for swigging. Couldn’t be passed up. However, I was able to at least take in over half of Tea Fight before leaving.

And I was humbled.

For the better part of November – as some of you know – I’d undertaken a NaNoWriMo project. For those not familiar, that’s where a writer tries to concoct 50K-word novel in a month. That’s right, a month. My initial goal was to cheat and repurpose old blogs into a book; I called it “CheatoWriMo”. Unfortunately, nine days into the project, I had an inconvenient epiphany – dictating that I start from scratch. The new idea was pure tea porn.

At first, I was engaged in the project, but the narrative was heading in a direction that I didn’t quite like. The entire affair was starting to make me feel uncomfortable, and I wasn’t quite sure why. Maybe it was the fact that it hit too close to home, or maybe it was just bad writing. I dunno. Then I saw Tea Fight…and I was ready to throw in the towel.

While it wasn’t a perfect movie by any stretch, it did what I was trying to do and did it better. What I had put to paper so far didn’t convey what I wanted it to. And Tea Fight did. Toward the tail end of the week, I announced that I was scrapping my little tea tale. I couldn’t even stand to look at the manuscript.

In the interim, fellow Tea Trader and NaNoWriMo participant – Courtney the Purrfect Cup – had reached the 50K mark. I was proud of her. She  and another compatriot – authoress Katrina Avila Munichiello – plus others in the NaNo group  urged me not abandon the project, but instead give it room to breathe. An answer would come, they stressed.

Yesterday, I finally finished watching Tea Fight, and came to a realization. I totally missed the point of the movie. Yes, there actually was a message it was trying to convey, and it was oddly relevant to my mid-writer’s crisis. One of the deus ex machina characters in the movie was the ancient tea scholar, Lu Yu. He appeared occasionally to motivate the characters forward. I won’t give away the movie’s ending, but the overall moral was (paraphrased slightly): “Your true fight is the one with yourself. Tea is innocent.”

All this time, the story made me uncomfortable because I was drawing upon more of myself than from stories prior. Actual life experiences were being used as a basis for the plot. I was blaming the material, but – in reality – it was me. The story wasn’t crap; I was crap for trying to quit. Only time would tell if it was a train wreck.

At the time of this writing, I was undertaking another challenge. The Canton Tea Co.’s Tea Club had sent me some Ali Shan and Li Shan (i.e. Taiwanese oolongs), and they were asking participants to choose a victor. This proved a difficult comparison, but in the end, Ali Shan won me over by a hair. However, the best results came from mixing the two. Unity superseded the tea fight. Right now, I’m swigging the mixture by the pot…

And listening to M.C. Hammer’s “2 Legit 2 Quit”.

To read what I have so far on said “tea porn”, go HERE.

Writing Epiphanies and Japanese Pu-erh

By

On November 12, 2012

In Tea Musings

I had an epiphany last week…and I abhor it.

While in the middle of filing some tax papers at a temp agency gig, I was attempting to outline my CheatoWriMo project. Motivation was proving hard to muster. The idea of compiling and collating old blogs and stories seemed boring. An odd realization to come by while compiling and collating. If the prospect of preparing such a yarn didn’t appeal to me, how was it going to appeal to a reader? Then something hit me square in the brain – a surge of epic proportions.

It occurred to me that there were two novel ideas I had that I put on mothballs – one was called Brunch with Phantoms, the other was Love at Second Sight. Coupled with those was an idea from awhile back retelling the events from my blog – “The Sex Tea Saga” – in a fictitious manner. None of them had enough material in them to warrent their own novels. But together…

And with that revelation, my CheatoWriMo project became a lot harder. Instead of compiling and repurposing previously written material, I was now going to have to start from scratch. Oh, yippee. The “evolved”/new premise was thus:

 Raymond Elkins is a 25-year-old recent college grad with a life he thought he wanted. Everything was going according to “plan”, until one evening the unthinkable happened. He botched his anniversary with his girlfriend…by not getting it up.

Distraught, the twentysomething consults friends, family and the Internet for suggestions. This eventually leads him to an unassuming leaf found in some male enhancement products – tea. What begins, at first, as a quest for better sex leads him down a surreal and magical road – one wrought with danger and daring-do.

He must dodge vengeful goddesses, succubi,  snake-people, sentient birds and wizards bent on ending his accidental quest. And all he has to guide him are a talking cat, a low-rent psychic, an ill-tempered gnome, and an undead Scottish botanist. Where this journey may lead him, no one can know. But he just might find true love, a good cup of tea, and save the world while he’s at it.

Yeah, I know, it’s bats**t crazy, and starting it was like pulling teeth. I was actually beginning a legitimate NaNoWriMo novel now – albeit very delayed. It also didn’t help that there were distractions along the way. All tea-related.

Friday afternoon, a package was waiting for me when I returned from running errands. It was from Butiki Teas, and I muffled a squeal of delight as a courtesy to the neighbors. One particular tea in the fray demanded immediate attention – a Japanese pu-erh. You heard right, and – no – I didn’t know such a thing existed, either.

Apparently, those wacky Japanese in Shizuoka prefecture were playing around with new styles of fermented tea. I already knew of two, and even tried one last year (which I liked quite a bit). This was a different beast altogether. I can’t even fathom the process that created it. Appearance-wise, it looked like a typical Japanese kocha (black tea), but the aroma was far different – coffee, chestnuts, soy sauce, plums and…er, awesome?

According to the Butiki Teas bio, this was a tea that was fermented for two-to-three days – artificially – with/in a brown rice culture. In other words, a wacky Japanese take on the Menghai shou (or cooked) method of aging pu-erh. To be frank, this smelled a lot better than most cooked pu-erhs I’ve tried. Normally, I can’t stand the stuff. New teas, however? Totally my thing.

There was only one snag; I did not want to share this alone. So, I gave ol’ David of PDX Tea a shout and wondered if he wanted to partake as well. It didn’t take long to get an affirmative. That and he also had better brewing equipment for such an experiment than I did. We prepped it like the Butiki site recommended – 1.5 tsps., boiling water, four-minute wait.

I can’t even being to describe how this tasted. It was part barley, part coffee, part roasted oolong, part Korean black, and all delicious. It was probably one of the more unusual teas I’ve tried all year, and – boy – I’d had some doozies. The cocoa-ish aftertaste lasted well after the sip. A part of me wanted to acquire “moar!” just so I could age it myself for a few years. But, honestly, I don’t have that kind of patience.

Some pu-erh purists out there might be thinking that it can’t be called pu-erh if it doesn’t hail from Yunnan province, China. And they have a point. Technically, this would be a heicha, I suppose. I would call it “Japuerh”, but that sounds kinda racist.

The second tea-related distraction from my writing responsibilities was something I found out right after David and I finished copious amounts of oolong. His Alliance space and Charity Chalmers (of Chariteas fame) were hosting a Portland tea meet-up, and the emphasis was on aged teas. How could I not go?

Besides my own donations to the cause, highlights for my palate were a Yue Guang Bai white sheng pu-erh cake and a Bai Liang bamboo basket-woven pu-erh cake. Both were zesty, earthy, floral, winy and all around Entish. Yes, that’s a good thing. Mrs. Chariteas seemed to know her rare teas, and I made a mental note to visit her shop at some point in the near future.

Saturday, I finally got started on A Steep Story (the new title for the novel). Reliving some of those past, embarrassing events was mildly uncomfortable. Some say you aren’t writing anything worthwhile unless your soul bleeds. I’m not sure I buy that. I would hardly call what I put to paper Voltaire levels of excellence…but it’s a start.

A…very…small…start.

While this is technically playing by NaNoWriMo rules (i.e. starting from scratch), there’s still a hint of CheatoWriMo as well. I didn’t get started until about nine days in, so I’m giving myself nine days in December to continue. Beyond, if I have to. I’ll be damned if I’m not going to do this Little Nemo-meets-Scott Pilgrim yarn justice.

Tea Pairing with Job Hunting

By

On October 24, 2012

In Tea Musings

The idea for this entry was suggested by my mother, as great ideas often are. It never occurred to me to pair tea with job hunting until she posed the idea after reading my tea-fueled rant. This reflection has – in no way – any science to back it up, just anecdotal “evidence”. Trial and error, hypotheses, and conjectures also played key roles in the missive. Oh, and oolong. Lots and lots of oolong.

Let’s begin.

Getting Started

As an unemployed person, one of the most difficult tasks is literally getting out of bed. Let’s face it, joblessness is depressing. Why does someone want to get started when it feels like their world is ending? The key is a self-fueled kick in the pants.

I’ve personally found that having a morning routine helps to motivate one away from the comfort of a ‘lectric blanky. Getting your day going as if you already have a job puts you in the right frame of mind to look for one. Shaving helps, too (for either gender). And for the love of God, put pants on!

Possible Tea Pairing:

Caffeine is required – lots of it. You need something that’ll give you an extra oomph! My personal recommendation is Assam. Better yet? Assam with some Lapsang Souchong sprinkled in. Nothing says, “Wake the f**k up!” like a caffeinated kick o’ campfire.

Writing a Resume and Cover Letter

If you – fair reader – are anything like me, you hate writing about yourself in a clinical manner. The urge to self-deprecate is a strong one. Same with wanting to sell yourself short. Some have a magical grasp of inflating their accomplishments; I am not one of them. Plus, I’m not very good at summarizing my abilities and accolades (whatever they are) concisely.

The importance is to consult others that have some expertise in these areas – people who’ve either submitted several times, or have a surefire approach. I’ve learned that submitting a resume or cover letter blindly, without having someone looking it over, is like turning in an obituary.

However, you don’t want to be too wired while you’re doing it. I’ve found that these two exercises require a lot of patience, or rather “calm wakefulness”.

Possible Tea Pairing:

I’m taking a page right out of Lindsey Goodwin’s recommendations by saying the best tea for writing is oolong. Sure, it’s caffeinated. And – depending on the sourcing – it can be strong. Yet I feel it truly gives someone a time-released dose of wake-up-call. Enough to instill a sense of focus. I turn to a good oolong – gongfu-ishly-styled – when I’m in the middle of a writing project. And believe me…resumes are a project.

Pounding the Pavement

As much as I hate to admit it, networking is the lifeblood of the job search. Talking to people, keeping your ears open, going from shop-to-shop, doing informational interviews, and putting yourself out there are mandatory. Ever hear that phrase, “It’s who you know…”

I’ll be damned if it ain’t correct.

Possible Tea Pairing:

Anything aged. In my experienced, teas – whether they’re oolongs, pu-erhs, black teas, or whites – that have at least five years on ‘em are eerily soothing. Sometimes they might actually taste as old as they are, but one thing can’t be denied. They make your brain feel like it’s sitting on a park bench feeding pigeons. Even when you’re doing something as socially uncomfortable as talking to people.

Just resist the urge to yell, “Get off my lawn!”

Interview Hell

Congrats! You’ve made it to an actual interview. Someone has taken the time out of their busy schedule to interrogate you for thirty minutes to an hour. But you don’t want to come across as a complete tool. (Unless they’re looking for someone useful.)

There are tips and guides aplenty on how to prepare for an interview. I’ve personally found that dressing to the nines doesn’t hurt your prospects. Where I’ve tended to fail, though, is in the verbal delivery. You don’t want to talk too fast or sound too deliberate. That and you want to have answers to questions prepared – in your mind, anyway. (Note: Do not bring cue cards.)

Some unorthodox methods for confidence and relaxation I’ve heard are: (1) Doing push-ups before an interview. Sound – if odd – advice from my brother. (2) Giving yourself an affirmation speech in the mirror. I do this. (3) Talking to someone before you leave for the interview. I’ve found that parents help. (4) Having a theme song. Okay, I made that last one up. Still, that’d be pretty sweet.

Possible Tea Pairng:

Gotta go green or white here. I made the mistake of having a pint of Earl Grey before an interview. At a tearoom, no less. The result? I was a motormouth, talking a mile a minute. My posture was equally off-putting – hunched over, feet tamping nervously. In other words, the less caffeine, the better. If you want to split the difference – a heartily brewed Bai Mu Dan should do the trick.

Rinse and Repeat

Your day is done. You’ve talked to people, made the rounds, applied for new jobs, and now all you want to do is relax. A cup o’ something herbal will work wonders. Pat yourself on the back…because guess what?

You get to do the whole thing again tomorrow.

Acknowledgements

I’d like to thank my mother for this idea. Do me a favor and like her career advice page on Facebook – Careers/College Not By Chance – HERE. She is an invaluable resource.

Much obliged.

Blending Tea and Fiction

By

On October 3, 2012

In Tea Musings

To those that have been following the sporadic attempts to give this blog focus, you’ll know I’ve been experimenting with tea fiction. Sometimes with wondrous results…and other times with startling missteps. Train-wreck or not, I figured an exercise on how these yarns developed was worth exploration.

Up until the “Great Vanishing” of September, I had two more entries planned. The process of how they came to fruition was simple. I would first try a rare tea, I would photograph the finished brew, I would jot down taster notes (like from my review days), then I would weave a story around said notes. I only made it halfway through this process on the last five teas I tried. So, what I’m going to do for you – fair reader(s?) – is show those taster notes, and the fictional blurbs I’d come up with around them.

WARNING: The results are…weird.

Tea #1: Lochan Teas Doke Silver Needle

 

Acquisition: This was one of three samples I received from Mrs. Tea Trade herself, Jackie D. I think she caught wind of my whimpering whenever someone mentioned the Lochan-purveyed, Bihar-located tea estate. She kindly donated this tea and a couple of others for my perusal and odd use.

Taster Notes: The leaves were actually much smaller than I thought they’d be – what with a name like “Silver Needle”. I was expecting plump, down-furred, rolled leaves, but these actually looked like tiny needles. They were comparable to a Risheehat Silver Tip I tried three years ago. There wasn’t much aroma to the leaves, either – spry, somewhat grassy, and mildly lemon-like.

The liquor brewed to a pleasant yellow-green with an aroma of apples and lime.  Taste-wise, they more than lived up to their Yinzhen-ish moniker, delivering on the promised melon notes with added dollops of citrus and muscatel grapes. The finish reminded me of a warm Reisling, minus the alcoholic headache.

Fictional Use: This would’ve been the first tea tried by “the other me” (The Lazy Literatus, made manifest as a fictional character), Zombie Robert Fortune, and Thed the Gnome while at a subterranean train station. Formerly Fortune then gets nervous when he sees a literal Grim Reaper sipping tea from the far corner. Soon after, a literal tea trolley pulls up…that is also an actual trolley.

Tea #2: Lochan Teas Doke “Rolling Thunder” Oolong

 

Acquisition: The second of the three Lochan samples, this was a rare Bihar, India oolong that had me all sorts of excited.

Taster Notes: The visual presentation of the leaves was rife with uniqueness. It looked like an orange pekoe black on first impression but possessed silver-tipped leaves amidst the darker brown ones. The aroma alternated between spice, chocolate and olives. It smelled quite a bit like an oolong I tried from the Phoobsering estate last year.

I gongfu-ed the heck out of this, but didn’t pay attention to brewing times. The liquor alternated between varying shades of amber and bronze throughout the successive infusions. On flavor, it was a surprisingly malty oolong with nutty and fruity notes sprinkled in for good measure. Overall, though, it resembled a more nuanced Nilgiri oolong.

Fictional Use: Once the three companions boarded the tea trolley-that-was-an-actual-trolley, they would’ve been greeted and waited upon a British rabbit in a suit – named Peter. (The security officer of the trolley.) Then their tea needs would’ve been tended to by his spouse, Jackie Rabbit. (Yes, I know, bear with me here.) That is when my alter-ego would’ve encountered another Doke offering – an oolong. All three would’ve found it exquisite, but it would also draw the attention of the Grim Reaper further back in coach.

This would’ve sparked a chase throughout the trolley, with a scared Zombie Robert Fortune attempting to run for his life. Reason being, he thinks the Grim Reaper is after him for escaping “actual death” – given that zombies are considered a clerical error. The three of them are finally cornered by the Reaper, who stops short and looks at “my” teacup, and says…

“Is that Doke?”

Then a gust of wind would’ve knocked the Reaper back, thus allowing him to be restrained by a British sweater.

Tea #3: Taiwanese Sencha

 

Acquisition: I received this lovely sample from the kind couple that own The Jasmine Pearl Tea Merchants. It was a simple blending green tea from Taiwan, done using Japanese techniques.

Taster Notes: I never actually took formal taster notes of this when I tried it. I guess I was just distracted by its awesomeness. In short, it reminded me a lot of Chinese sencha (which I love) and other Formosa greens I’ve sampled. There wasn’t much grassiness to it or much of a vegetal profile. It was slightly fruity and damn strong. One could even boil the heck out of the leaves for a bolder brew.

Fictional Use: This would’ve been the tea The Lazy Literatus was sampling as they all interrogated a restrained Mr. Death. Turns out the Reaper was actually a temp by the name of Solomon Grundey – a character I borrowed from a Devotea story – and that he wasn’t after Zombie Fortune at all…but rather the Doke Oolong that they were all drinking.

It would’ve been also revealed that the “tea trolley” trolley was run by two air elementals – Milly and Mimsy.

Tea #4: Guranse Estate Soun Chandi – Nepalese White Tea (2012 2nd Flush)

 

Acquisition: Also picked up from the folks at Jasmine Pearl. I practically had to beg for this one. I mean, Nepalese white tea?! Who’s ever heard of that? I didn’t pick up just one, but two! Both were exquisite, but this one was really something special.

Taster Notes: The visual presentation wasn’t much to write home about. It looked like a typical orange pekoe with downy-fuzzed leaves strewn into the mix. Nothing about it immediately screamed “white tea”. However, the aroma was leafy and slightly zesty – very similar to Bai Mu Dan.

The liquor brewed to a pale yellow and bombarded the nostrils with a fruit-sweet aroma. The taste – oh my, the taste! There were many things I could compare it to – a Darjeeling white tea from the Arya estate, a 2nd flush black tea from Sikkim – but it was entirely on its own in excellence. The flavor alternated between grape and citrus with a dash of sugar. The finish was tart and sweet.

Fictional Use: After disembarking from the Tea Trolley trolley, The Lazy Literatus, Thed the Gnome, Zombie Robert Fortune, and Grundey the Grim Reaper would’ve made their way to Nice, France. Their goal? A tearoom that caters only to immortals run by a guy named Tim.

Upon entering, Zombie Fortune’s original human color would’ve returned, and Grundey’s skeletal form would’ve grown skin. Tim greets them and explains that this is a refuge for immortals from all walks of life, then proceeds to sit them. The first tea offered would’ve been the rare Nepalese. After the initial sip, though, the tranquility of the establishment would’ve been interrupted by the arrival of the King and Queen of the Faery Folk – Oberon and Titania.

Tea #5: Guranse Estate White Crescent – Nepalese White Tea (2012 2nd Flush)

 

Acquisition: Same story as the other Nepalese white. Great but not perfect.

Taster Note: The leaves for this were rather lovely and looked quite similar to a Silver Needle white – save for their darker appearance. The aroma was also startling in its peppery presentation. I was reminded of a Huang Ya yellow tea on first whiff.

The liquor brewed up rather clear; only a smidge of pale yellow was detectable. The soup’s aroma echoed the dry leaf pepper lean but with a dash of muscatel. Taste-wise, it gave me a vague impression of Yunnan Gold black tea by way of a Darjeeling 1st flush – honey-like, fruit-filled, but with a hint of spice.

Fictional Use: Oberon and Titania would’ve arrived with much pomp and circumstance (and some wanton destruction). Their tea demands would’ve been a riddle: “We want white tea and/or green tea not of the normal East.” The request has Tim wracking his brain, but Grundey the Reaper answers the riddle by handing off the newer Nepalese white (the White Crescent) he was sampling. This appeases Oberon…but not Titania.

That’s when The Lazy Literatus realizes he still has some leaves from his Taiwanese sencha left. He (or rather, I?) passes it on to Grundey to brew up. It pleases Titania to an…almost embarrassingly orgasmic effect. The two faeries sit down and enjoy their teas peacefully. After the commotion dies down, The Lazy Literatus sees that one of the immortal patrons is Guan Yin – sipping from Liddy, the gaiwan he thought he lost.

Tim invites Grundey to stay on as an expert brewer. Thed and Robert Fortune also tell the Literatus that this is where they’ll be parting ways. Tim sadly informs the pajama’d writer that he cannot stay because he is neither magical nor immortal, but offers him a free ley-line teleportation home. After a sad farewell, the Literatus prepares to leave Tim’s ImmortaliTea Room. Not before Tim finally reveals that his name was actually Utnapishtim – the Babylonian Noah, and first immortal. He also offers him some sage advice – to apologize to a certain someone.

The Lazy Literatus finally approaches Guan Yin and says he’s sorry for writing the “adult” story about her and Robert Fortune. She accepts his apology, and tells him that’s all she ever expected of him, and returns the gaiwan. This allows him to successfully ley-line travel home.

Conclusion:

After that particular arc had wrapped up, I’d also planned on relaying the adventure Liddy the Gaiwan would’ve had in nursery rhyme form. The story would’ve dealt with her forced journey into the Land of Leaves and her exploration of aged oolongs. I don’t know what I was smoking when I came up with that idea…seriously…

All said, I still haven’t abandoned tea fiction as a possible outlet. I mean, I still have a yarn about a cat-owned flying tearoom I want to write. But I will humbly acknowledge that I have a long way to go before I display it in the future. There are far better tea fiction stories out there. I can think of two right off the top of my head.

Some of The Devotea’s stories can be found on his blog HERE.

There’re also the fictional interviews put forth by The Purrfect Cup HERE.

In the meantime, I have some sci-fi to get back to. Un-tea-related. (-Ish?)

 

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

By

On March 27, 2012

In Tea Musings

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.

Trippin’ on Moonlight

By

On September 14, 2011

In Tea Features

Some weeks back, I got a message from my cousin. He made an outright demand for “ADVENTURE!” Yes, in all caps. At first, he had a hankering to go to the Oregon Coast, particularly a brewery (or two) we had stopped at before. I suggested something a little more approachable – an idea we’d discussed in passing, the Columbia Gorge. There was a brewery on the Washington side of the river we had yet to hit. He jumped on that idea like it was a trampoline.

Photo by Bruce Berrien

Before leaving for parts un-sober, we grabbed burritos for lunch and did a quick run to Starbucks. My cuz happened to be the customer of the month at this place. They even had his picture framed, knew him by name, and cracked barbs with him like he was Norm from Cheers. So, both he and the baristas kinda looked at me funny when I only asked for hot water rather than tea or coffee. Like a true pretentious douche, I brought my own tea leaves in a do-it-yourself baggy. Worse still, I was all shifty about it.

Once we hit the highway – and I’d timed the coffee cup steep at three minutes (yes, I do that) – I took a sip of the contents. I’m not sure what happened, but I had a full-body euphoric reaction. It was like a lazy man’s outta body experience…’cept no one went anywhere.

My cousin looked over and said, “Jesus, man, you look like you had an orgasm.”

In a tea-ist – almost spiritual (and less messy) – sorta way, I did. The tea in question was a second flush Darjeeling that was sent to me by a Twitter friend in Darjeeling – one Benoy Thapa of Thunderbolt Tea. Who is he? Probably one of the nicest fellows I’ve ever e-met. That and the only motorcycle-riding, tea-field-diving, ponytail-donning, camera-weilding family man/tea vendor I’ve heard about. It was thanks to him that I was finally exposed to real Darjeeling tea in the first place – not just the dust found in teabags.

He sent me a peculiar tea from the Castleton tea estate. Said garden was named for a building in the neighboring city of Kurseong that looked like a castle. The fields were first planted in 1885 by a Brit named Dr. Charles Graham. At present, the estate is 70% British-owned and quite known for its Chinese varietals that produce a world-renowned second flush product.

The one I had in my possession – and the one that caused the full-bodied teagasm – was a different sort of offering. Unlike the other OPs produced, this was technically an oolong. I even asked my Thunderbolt contact what type it was and he confirmed it, saying that was the information he received from the current owner.

This was unlike any other second flush Darjeeling I’d encountered. Okay, I’ve said that on other occasions, but I really mean it this time! The leaves were the color of…um…forest? Yes, a veritable bouquet of colors you’d associate with that image – root brown, soil yellow, canopied tree green, and sun gold. I had a little trouble finding a comparison. Its anomalous aroma didn’t help, either. The scent brought feelings of fresh water streams, wild berries, lemons and honey. I know, this is sounding more metaphoric than olfactory; I’m sorry. This was difficult to pin down.

There weren’t any specific brewing instructions for this on the Thunderbolt site. Mr. Thapa – as mentioned above – said this was an oolong. Granted, during the trial sip, I went lowbrow with a coffee mug. This time, though, I figured the best way would be to give it a traditional oolong send-off. And I bought a new gaiwan for the occasion. (It’s a he, and his name is Guy-1.) I heated some water to just under a boil, and prepped four successive infusions – two at thirty seconds, two at forty – with 1 heaping teaspoon of leaves.

First infusion (thirty seconds): The liquor brewed light amber with a malty nose. (Very Indian.) The flavor possessed an herbaceous front that transitioned creamily to a vanilla-dipped grape crescendo before tapering off gently. A damn good start, if I do say so.

Second infusion (thirty seconds): The soup infused to a prime-gold color with an amber-ish periphery. It was lighter but also…shinier. As for taste, the initial sip was crisper than before, followed by a bolder middle profile kicking with lemon and apple. Very cider-like, except – y’know – without the fizz or mind-numbing parts.

Third infusion (forty seconds): Yep, still gold. However, the steam aroma changed its tune to something creamy and sweet – like actual vanilla was in there. That didn’t quite translate to taste, but it was still wonderful with a floral aspect appearing alongside the citrusy lean.

Fourth infusion (forty seconds): This was the lightest of the four infusions, but it was also the most obviously “oolong” of ‘em. The foretaste was still crisp, yet there was a rougher, mineral-like transition to the muscatel middle. I likened it to a Formosa Alishan.

Two more steeps followed the initial four, but I didn’t take notes on them. Needless to say, they were nifty. While it held up to a gongfu(-ish) approach quite well, I think the Western way gave it a one-time punch of perfection. Like a liquid rendition of a one-night stand. That isn’t to say the four short steeps weren’t awesome; they just weren’t dipped in awesome like the A-MURR-ican mega-steep.

As luck would have it, I had an opportunity through another vendor to try the first flush Moonlight. I liked it quite a bit, but it had nowhere near the nuance of the summertime cup that nearly road-tripped my tongue to tea-ish ecstasy. Without exaggeration or pontification, this was the best darned Darjeeling I have ever had. Worth a howl or two.

To buy Thunderbolt Tea’s Castleton Moonlight (2011 2nd Flush) go HERE.

Oolong Way from Gnome (Part 1)

By

On July 15, 2011

In Tea Fiction

Gnomish Charcoal Sketch by Robert Norman

Thed was on a cloud…and he wasn’t happy about it.

Gnomes weren’t meant for flight, especially zooming over mountain ranges at wind-wispy speeds. Cloud-travel was air elemental territory – not for earth ones like him. Yet he found himself flying on a magic cloud with five unlikely companions. Three of them claimed to be demons. Two of them weren’t; one was a pig, the other a monkey with a staff. He had met “daemons” before. These were simple, magically-imbued animals with delusions of grandeur.  But who was he to question their given titles? He was just a gnomish hired hand far away from home.

The third was an ogre, one of the lesser demon races. Unlike his Western kin, he was silent, stoic and serious. Such was the case with their fourth companion, too, possibly the oddest chimera Thed had ever seen – a dragon-scaled horse. Both were oddly resolute for so garish of beasts.

The source of his employ was the fifth occupant on the cloud – a quite, gold-hued man with his head shaved bald. He was unusual by human standards, but – then again – all humans were unusual to Thed. This one was fully aware of the magical world and seemed to revel in it, albeit tranquilly. When Thed had met him and his animal compatriots in India, the bald man had introduced himself as Tripitaka. It was a good, Greek-sounding name, and he had a trusting face.

After Tripitaka claimed he was a simple monk heading home, the poor gnome thought the golden man and his minions were journeying further West. Working for them seemed like a way to get a free ride back to Greece.

Wrong.

They were headed East…Far East. As far as Thed knew, no gnome had ever been to China. Given the different roles of magical beings there, he understood why. If mere animals were labeled as demons, what would they make of him?

He clutched a fist to his green, conical hat as another gust of wind threatened to part it from his head. It was precious to him. Granted, no Greek gnome wore such silly headware, but it was a present from a lady-friend in Germania. All Nordic-borne gnomes were fans of pointy hats. It was a rather odd distinction between them and their Greek cousins.

The three magic animals found the hat rather amusing as well. They often yanked it from his head, held it above him, and kept it from his reach – especially Sun Wukong. The Monkey King (as he was known) made sport of him the entire journey. Zhu Bajie, the pig “monster”, occasionally joined in and made lewd references, comparing the hat to a certain male body part.

These were his companions on the long journey back to Chang’an. And it was a very. Long. Journey. The territory between India and the Tang capital was wrought with danger. A day didn’t go by without the monk being threatened by some magical creature or another. Sun Wukong mentioned in passing that many of their assailants were after the monk’s flesh, saying it granted immortality to the eater. Thed rolled his eyes at that. Human meat, even a magus’s, didn’t grant immortality. (Although, according to some orcs he’d known, it did cause indigestion.)

Whenever they were attacked, Thed did what gnomes did best. He hid. At times, he would even employ an invisibility spell. His job was to guard the luggage, and guard it he did…but out of sight. No pay in the known world was worth the loss of hide nor hat.

Thed felt a poke against his shoulder. He ignored it. After a few minutes, he felt a second, harder poke. Again, he did nothing. A full five minutes went by before something cold and metal massaged his ear, followed by fits of high-pitched giggling. Thed had come to expect that from the Monkey King. He returned the effort with a glare.

Sun Wukong, un-phased, brought his staff up to the gnome’s nose and gently rubbed it against his nostril. Thed sniffed, wriggled his face a bit, but didn’t give the trickster “king” the satisfaction of a response. A reaction – any reaction – would be met with further taunting by way of staff. Today’s attempt was mild by comparison. Thed was used to this; he had fifteen brothers.

“As usual, you’re no fun,” Sun Wukong harrumphed.

The gnome merely crossed his arms, staring ahead.

“Perhaps he’s gone mute,” Zhu Bajie said with a snort.

The monkey beamed a grin, a mischievous one. “Let’s test that theory.”

Thed closed his eyes tightly, expecting sharp pain of some sort. He was used to it, even though it still smarted. The pain never came, however. A clanging noise was heard in its place. He opened one eye. A spade had parried Sun Wukong’s staff. The bearer of the weapon was the ogre – Sha Wujing – who glowered at the monkey and pig. He nodded at Thed before returning to his meditation, a free hand slowly stroking his ugly red beard.

“He’s no fun, either,” the Monkey King pouted, folding his arms in protest.

“Please, please, leave the help alone,” Tripitaka said softly. “Our journey is almost ended. Soon we will go our separate ways. Make our final moments together peaceful ones.”

Tripitaka was always like that. He would only intervene in a conflict after it was finished; imparting sage advice that largely went ignored. The true hand of discipline in the group was the river-ogre. Strange considering he was the roughest-looking of the bunch. The gold-tanned Buddhist never involved himself in the squabbles of the party unless it affected the outcome of his quest. Over his shoulder, he bore ancient scrolls that were kept in a magic ward-laden sack. What was on them, Thed could only guess.

They journeyed on in silence, puttering along on a fluffed-up pillow of a nimbus. Mountains unlike any Thed had ever seen came and went, transformed into valleys, and then spots of civilization. As the sky darkened, a large city came into view. The expanse of it was lined by a large rectangular wall. There were towered gates to the east, west, and south. They breezed over the southern gate, heading northward to another, inner-walled structure, which Thed could only assume was the Imperial palace. It was a striking city, well-fortified…and the citizenry appeared slightly alarmed that a giant cloud was flying into it.

Bells sounded off along with shouts. Thed peered over the nimbus and saw dots scrambling down below. Gnomish hearing was unusually sharp, and he thought he could make out shouts of, “Ready the archers!” It was times like these he wished he hadn’t chewed on glossolalia leaf to understand different languages. He was better off not knowing who wanted him dead.

Something whizzed past his graying beard. Another shape darted upwards to his right. Arrows – and more were coming.

“I thought you sent word to the Emperor,” Sha Wujing growled at the monkey as he batted an arrow away with his spade.

“Um…slipped my mind?” Sun Wukong shrugged nervously, withdrawing his staff.

Arrows ripped through the cloud with swarming ferocity. Zhu Bajie caught several with his rake weapon before they impacted Tripitaka, who appeared unmoved by the attack. He stayed sitting, lotus-style, but his grip on the magical sack with the scrolls had tightened. The dragon-scaled horse held vigil over him.

“We’ll be needle fodder in no time!” Zhu Bajie squealed.

“Quit your belly-aching, fatty,” Sun Wukong returned. “We’ve been through worse.”

“And just like those times, it’s your fault!” the river-ogre roared.

“Semantics,” the Monkey King waved the comment off, elongating his staff to double its length. He batted away an entire volley with one sweeping arc.

Thed – who until now used the party’s luggage as a shield – sighed and finally spoke up, “I’ll handle this.”

The gnome took a piece of flint, a few red leaves, and a round jewel from one of his many pants pockets. He sat down, placed the leaves on one knee, and rubbed the jewel and flint together. Violet sparks ignited. Instead of becoming flame, however, they swirled around the party like fireflies. When they reached the periphery of the cloud, they dissipated. In their wake, arrows bounced off an invisible barrier around the cloud.

Sha Wujing slumped his shoulders in relief. Zhu Bajie dropped his rake with exhaustion. Tripitaka and his weird horse still appeared the same, if a tad more tense. Only Sun Wukong eyed the gnome with suspicion.

“Where’d you learn to do that?” the monkey asked, eyes narrowing.

“It’s earth magic,” Thed replied. “All earth elementals know it.”

“What are you, some sort of Immortal?” Sun Wukong pressed further.

“There are no Immortals,” Thed stated flatly. “Only magic.”

That caught the ogre’s attention, “Blasphemy!”

“Not blasphemy,” the gnome said. “Truth.”

“Need I remind you, little goblin, that we were once Generals in Heaven?” Sha Wujing asked.

“No, you needn’t.”

“And yet you still don’t believe in the Immortals?” he queried again.

“No, I don’t.”

“Can we throw him overboard?” the pig asked.

“We’re here,” Tripitaka interrupted. “Thedaius, would you kindly remove the barrier?”

“As you wish,” Thed nodded slightly, tapping the jewel.

Air rushed back where the invisible enclosure had popped. In their heated debate, they hadn’t realized that the cloud had landed within the palace proper. Dozens of soldiers surrounded them at spear-point. Some commotion started at the rear and moved forward like a wave. Several of the spearmen bowed as a figure attired in yellow robes and – from what Thed could tell – a black hat came to the front of their quarry. Eastern dragons embroidered the upper and lower halves of his ornate clothing. An expression, equal-parts surprise and worry, showed on his face.

“Brother Xuanzang, you’ve returned!” the well-dressed (and slightly plump) man exclaimed.

The party dismounted the cloud. It vanished into the aether with a word from the Monkey King. Thed hadn’t been prepared for that, however, and fell with a resounding – yet tiny – thud. The monkey and pig both snickered.

Tripitaka kowtowed deeply, “I have, Your Highness.”

The three creature-companions looked at each other, then followed suit with awkward bows and kneels of their own. Only Thed remained standing. (Although, his standing posture was at their kneeling height.) He was tempted to go invisible. Mundane (non-magic) humans weren’t supposed to see magical creatures. It was forbidden in the West. The rules were apparently different in Tang China.

“So, you have them, then?” the Tang Emperor asked eagerly.

“I do, Your Highness.”

“Let us see them!” said the yellow-clad ruler with excited, outstretched hands.

The Buddhist monk withdrew the scroll sack from his shoulder. His stance relaxed at the heavy burden’s removal. He muttered a few words, and the sigil-drawn wards on the bag glowed. The string keeping it closed loosened of its own accord. Rolled parchments greeted the night air and onlookers. The Tang Emperor grabbed one of them with deft hands and unrolled it slowly. The unknown writing seemed to shine in the moonlight.

“The sutras of the Western Regions,” the Emperor said with reverence.  “You’ve done a great thing for the Empire, Xuanzang. A great thing, indeed.”

He rolled the scroll back up and handed it off to an attendant that appeared by his side. Other such attendants went about collecting the rest from the sack. Thed eyed them suspiciously. Why were a bunch of religious parchments so important? It wasn’t like they would be able to read them. The words were written in Sanskrit. Who on this side of the continent – who wasn’t magic-imbued – knew Sanskrit?!

“You must be fatigued from your journey, Little Brother,” the Emperor stated. “I insist you and your…companions stay here as our guests.”

“That is kind of you, Your Highness,” Tripitaka replied. “But I’m afraid I’m needed at Hongfu Monastery. I’ve been away from my brothers for far too long.”

This statement caused Zhu Bajie to grumble slightly. Thed couldn’t tell if it was from the pig’s mouth or stomach. Even the silent ogre groaned with displeasure, albeit through a firm expression frozen in kowtow.

The Tang Emperor also seemed mildly disappointed, “Very well. You deserve rest where you wish it. We shall talk of your travels in the morning. Sleep well, Little Brother.”

The yellow-robed ruler withdrew with his retinue, and the Monkey King summoned the cloud. Within moments, they were airborne again. Much to Thed’s dismay. He would never get used to all the flying. The nimbus floated northeast at great speed until it reached the summit of a mountain. Sha Wujing called it Quanling. Situated among the trees was a modest temple with a humble gate. Several monks saw their approach and instantly fell to their knees.

When they landed and departed the cloud, a younger monk – barely twenty-years-old – approached Tripitaka, “Master, these tree-tops all suddenly leaned East this morning. As we remembered what you had said, we went out of the city to meet you, and you had indeed come.”

“I have. I am sorry I hadn’t arrived in time to greet you all. We didn’t get to the city until this very evening,” Tripitaka said, touching the younger monk’s shoulder in friendship.

“We shall see to your things, Master,” another monk chimed in.

“No need. I have help for that.”

Thed waved. The monks eyed him quizzically. Obviously, they’d never seen a gnome before. Or anyone that small with such a thick beard for that matter. He muttered an incantation to himself as he dug his hands into the soil. After that, he clapped once and grabbed hold of the luggage. Like the “worker ant” that he was, he lifted the party’s rope-bound satchels with wondrous ease.

The pig’s jaw dropped.

“Earth magic, remember?” Thed said through a smirk.

Sun Wukong – the Monkey King – gave him a demonic sneer.

***

“I’ve grown quite tired of our tiny tag-along,” Zhu Bajie said, leaning against his rake.

The three demons watched the diminutive, white-bearded pygmy pass by with their belongings. The little man-thing seemed quite at ease with hard labor. No matter the task, he did it without voicing complaint. Or voicing anything at all. He didn’t talk much.  Zhu Bajie didn’t trust silent types.

“As much as it pains me to say it,” the river-ogre sighed. “I agree with you. He blasphemes against the Immortals. He speaks to all of us with disrespect, and – worse still – he didn’t bow before Emperor Taizong! I will grant a foreigner some leniency, but not if he shows complete disregard.”

“I wouldn’t be surprised if he’d piss on Guan Yin herself,” Zhu Bajie muttered.

Sha Wujing brought his spade to bear on the pig monster’s throat. “Do not speak ill of the Bodhisattva!”

“I wasn’t! I wasn’t!”

Sun Wukong rubbed his chin, “Actually, Piggy may have a point.”

“How so?” The ogre withdrew his weapon from the frightened demon’s boar-face.

The Monkey King bore a toothy grin, “I think it’s time our little friend visited the Goddess of Mercy.”

***

Thed plopped the satchels off in a nearby storage area. At least, he assumed it was a storage area. Truthfully, the entire monastery looked like one big, religious closet. There was plenty of clay and brick – enough to remind him of home – but the absolute modesty of the place annoyed him. Of course, he preferred the company of trees and structures borne of trees. He felt the human need to shape the environment to their will was a desecration, and oddly hypocritical in a region that prided itself on oneness with all things natural.

He heard a clopping sound behind him. Without realizing it, he’d uttered the invisibility spell. It was always fresh on his lips whenever he was startled. Thed turned to see the outline of a horse behind him, its body shimmering in the dull evening light.

“Oh, it’s just you,” he muttered, reappearing. “Stupid horse…thing.”

You shouldn’t talk like that to us, said a voice in his mind.

Thed looked around. “Who said that?”

The “stupid horse-thing” in front of you, the thought echoed again.

“Ah, telepathy,” Thed wasn’t impressed. “That’s a neat trick for a horse.”

Your attitude towards us may get you killed, little one.

“Says…the horse who can’t talk.”

I wasn’t always this shape. Thed thought he saw the dragon-scaled horse’s eyes narrow.

“Your point?”

My point is you should show a little courtesy. You are not in your lands. Politeness goes a long way here.

“Duly noted.”

There was a long pause.

“Can I get back to work now?”

As you wish. Just remember…don’t underestimate them.

“Them who?

The horse trotted away without a reply.

Before Thed could shrug it off, a hand clasped his small shoulder. Hard. He swiveled around and came face-to-face with the toothiest monkey grin he’d ever seen. It was Sun Wukong’s, and the expression made him uneasy. The pig and river-ogre were also there, both smiling just as broadly. Now he was scared. The river-ogre never smiled.

“Hello, friend,” Sun Wukong said.

“Uh, hello.”

“We have a task for you.”

“I have plenty of tasks already,” Thed countered. It was the truth.

“Oh, but you see, this one is really important,” Sun Wukong continued. “Our Master – your employer – is out of tea leaves.”

Tripitaka did love his tea. The gnome served it to him every morning on the journey. Gnomes were good at steeping any plant known to man or magic. It hadn’t taken Thed long to learn the temperature, brew length, leaf amount, and water depth that the monk preferred.

“That can’t be. I checked them myself this morning. There should be at least fourteen cups worth left.”

Sun Wukong shook his head, “I’m afraid they’ve all spoiled.”

“Impossible. Dried leaves don’t spoil in a day.”

“They do if you expose them to earth magic fires,” Sha Wujing intoned. “You wouldn’t know anything about that, would you?”

Thed hung his mouth open as if to speak, but nothing came out. Was it possible? He – like all gnomes – was well-versed in herbs, both arcane and mundane. Granted, his knowledge of the tea plant was limited at best, but he had studied some varietals during his time in India. Could earth elemental magic affect their staying power, whether fresh or dried? He was at a loss.

“That tea was a present from Guan Yin herself,” the Monkey King said. “They were plucked from her Mountain Wall Garden high in the Zu mountain range. They were priceless.”

“I-I…don’t know what to say,” Thed stuttered.

“Say that you will get some more,” was the monkey’s blunt reply.

“When?”

“Tonight.”

“How?!”

“With this.” Sun Wukong revealed his palm and floating right above it was a small cloud. “And these,” he said, plucking hairs from his own head.

“You want me to pick tea leaves,” Thed started. “From a mountain range. With nothing but a cloud…and some of your hair?”

“Watch,” the Monkey King said. He took one strand of hair and threw it on the ground. In a puff of smoke, a duplicate of himself appeared. “You’ll use these to pick the leaves.”

“And use the cloud to get there, I got it,” the gnome nodded, annoyed. “But what do I do if I get caught?”

“You’ll have him,” the monkey said with a smile, pointing at the dragon-scaled horse.

“And if I refuse?” Thed asked.

“You’ll die,” Sha Wujing said, pressing his spade into the ground.

Thed heaved the deepest sigh of his life. “Fine, I’ll do it.”

“Great!” the Monkey King shouted, clapping the gnome on the back. The impact sent him reeling. “We’ll see you at morning tea.”

Sha Wujing pointed at him, “Don’t be late.”

The three so-called demons departed, leaving the wayward gnome to collect himself. Tripitaka’s odd horse came up to him. If Thed didn’t know any better, he would’ve said the horse-thing was smiling at him.

I told you not to underestimate them, the horse sent.

“Oh, shut up and get ready,” Thed responded. He looked at the monkey hairs in his hand and the small cloud suspended in mid-air in front of him. “We have a long night ahead of us.”

To be continued…-ish…

Smells Like Pure Nirvana

By

On June 22, 2011

In Tea Features

In Buddhist thought, nirvana is defined as “freedom from suffering”. That doesn’t just mean pain, but rather freedom from the game of life (or “samsara”). It also signifies freedom from the endless cycle of death and rebirth – the ultimate goal for attaining spiritual oneness with all things. The word was also the name of an overrated grunge band from the early 90s that somehow became the voice of “my generation”. Their music symbolized freedom of a different sort.

While nirvana no longer holds the same connotation thanks to that rock-‘n-roll inception, it does still hold significance. Being a thirtysomething with a dubious lot in life, I try to find peace wherever I can get it, preferably not in a harmful and addictive way. Well…one out of two ain’t bad. Oolong may be good for me, but it’s also really addictive. Funny, since I started off hating oolongs.

Ever since learning to brew the semi-oxidized teas in a gaiwan, they’ve become habit forming. Oh, I still prefer my matchas, white teas, and Yunnan golds over ‘em, but I could drink oolongs all day. All. Day. White teas are like Cavendish pipe tobacco. Oolongs are menthol cigarettes.

Thus far my favorites have all come from the isle of Taiwan (or Formosa to the old school sort). Some Chinese ones have proven themselves worthy of multiple sips, but they don’t hold a candle to a high-altitude Bai Hao or Alishan. That said, there was one region that I hadn’t tried oolongs from, even though I’d heard scant mentions of them – Darjeeling. A random message from East Pacific Tea Co. changed all that.

In appearance, their Pure Nirvana bore a striking resemblance to just about every Darjeeling first and second flush OP I’ve ever seen. The color palette ran the gamut from tippy gold to roasted, dark brown. If I was looking at this blind, I would’ve guessed it was an Indian black tea or a Formosa oolong. The aroma was also inviting with its clean, grape-spice profile – almost like a white tea but deeper.

Brewing instructions recommended a steep of three-to-five minutes in 195F water. I agreed with the temperature but not the prep. If it was an oolong, there was only one way I could do it. You guessed it, in a gaiwan. I used 1 heaping teaspoon of leaves , did four successive steeps – first two for thirty seconds, the last for forty – and jotted down my opinions of each. I hoped there were shifts in flavor between them like its Chinese counterparts.

First infusion (thirty seconds): “Holy whoah!” was my first reaction to the scent of this pale, amber-colored infusion. That grape lean I detected on a dry whiff had doubled after brewing. It smelled like a first flush Darjeeling with a muscatel lean. Taste reflected that as well. The only major difference was the roasty finish, reminiscent of other oolongs.

Second infusion (thirty seconds): The liquor was darker this time, taking on a copperish-gold palette. The aroma was deeper on the spice with a slightly nutty trail-off. This echoed as well in the taste with a tamale-esque forefront, followed by a fruity body and a faint astringency on the aftertaste.

Third infusion (forty seconds): Straight amber infusion this time ‘round with a more balanced spice-grape aroma. One nostril note didn’t dominate over the other. The flavor was also more even, if a little more subdued. Heavier fruit taste on the finish, though, and almost no dryness/bitterness.

Fourth infusion (forty seconds): While more bitter than the other three steeps, this was perhaps my favorite. Everything just seemed louder and lovelier from the scent to the flavor. There was also an earthier tone to it, which truly made it an oolong in my eyes.

Pure Nirvana kept its strength for at least three infusions later, never letting up on its muscatel profile for a moment. After a rather long work week, it was truly a pleasure to experience this wonderful oolong. I stayed at home in my pajamas, sipping the day away like some fat, thirtysomething Buddha. And I was happier for it.

For more information on East Pacific Tea Company, go HERE.

To buy Pure Nirvana, go HERE.

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