You – fair reader(s?) – may have noticed a very significant change on this blog. No, not the content. Look up. Awwww-yeah! That’s right; this blog finally has its own domain name. I announced it via the social mediasphere, but in case you’re new to this tea musing circus, that’s a big deal to me! And a lot of the thanks goes to the Tea TradePowers That Be. (I wouldn’t have been able to figure out how to do it by myself, honestly.)
The reasons for finally domain-ing it up are twofold: (1) It’s a helluva lot easier to say, “My blog is ‘Steep Stories’”, than it is to list off a URL. (2) I’m about to start a book, and this is its online mouthpiece.
Some of you might know that November is the time of NaNoWriMo – where a bunch of would-be writers try to kill themselves by producing 50,000 words in 28-or-so days. I tried it last year…but never started. This year, I was about to opt out, but I had a better idea. I was going to cheat. And it was all thanks to my mother.
Before the advent of NaNoWriMo, my mother had suggested I should compile my blogs as a book. Originally, I thought this was a stupid idea. Then I got to thinking, Wait, I have almost written a novel in blogs alone. And the idea was born.
No, I’m not going to simply compile all the blogs as is into a bundle and shove it on the market. The way they’re formatted currently is not conducive to that. What I am going to do is repurpose them – add nuances and anecdotes, flesh out the details, so-to-speak. That and I have the fictional Steep Stories to finish. The saga was left incomplete.
The idea is this: To transform the blogs, reviews and musings I’ve done on unique teas (and my stories with them) into a cohesive narrative. Then, when those have ended, they will segue into the fictional stories. In total, there “should” be about 60% new content to the endeavor. Be on the lookout for news on Steep Stories: Fact & Fantasy. Let CheatoWriMo commence!
Now, I know what you’re thinking, fair reader(s?), “Don’t you need to have a popular blog for this to work out?”
My answer: “I write about f**king tea.”
It’s an issue I’ve struggled with since the summer, trying to find an audience for this tea blog; fashioning it to receive some attention. I’ll be truthful, the sheer lack of numbers was disconcerting. Especially when I compared the analytics of my own site to this. Measures were taken to ensure some success. Plus, I also learned that my website analytics weren’t as good as I initially thought. Even after four years, I was not properly trying to build an audience. Then it hit me.
“F**k it, I’ll do what I want.”
I put measures in place to start building traffic, but I was not going to make that the end-all goal. Tea is a drink. Most people don’t want to read about a drink unless it gets them drunk – save for we shining few. And for the moment, I like it that way. Tea is what I know; tea is what I’ll show. I also vowed that I would no longer duplicate “Steep Stories” on my main website anymore. The tea tales needed their own permanent home, and that – I will happily say – is Tea Trade. Wouldn’t have it any other way.
Oh yeah…since this is a tea blog, I should probably talk about tea on it. Um…ah! Got it!
On Saturday, my brother and I made it a point to jaunt over to The Jasmine Pearl Tea Merchants for a tea pick-up. My mission: Earl Grey. I had absolutely no Earl in the house anywhere. This was disconcerting to me. I remembered that The Jasmine Pearl carried one that I liked; on several occasions, I’d stopped off to have it iced. My brother – on the other hand – needed to replenish his stores of Golden Needles. (That fact alone brings a tear to my old eye.)
Prior to making the tea trip, I learned that Saturday was also their eighth anniversary. Well, now we had to go. When we arrived, the place was packed with people. The owners – Chuck and Heather – were weaving through tastings and anecdotes like acrobats. For the occasion, they also had some goodies on hand – matcha cheesecake, chai cake, Lapsang Souchong popcorn.
Hold the phone!
Lapsang. Souchong. Popcorn!
It was the most beautiful thing my eyes had ever seen. The taste was equally mangasmic – smoky, buttery, slightly sweet, and – well – manly! I cried tears of machismic joy. On the inside. Never on the outside.
Oh yes, there was also plenty of tea that was had. Two new blends were put on display – Haiku (White Peony-base) and French Breakfast (Assam-base). I actually preferred the latter; maybe it was my French ancestry – I dunno. We bid fond farewells with tea wares in hand with promises of future visits.
As I write this, I’m currently nursing a 32oz. pot o’ Earl like a Picardian boss. Have I started CheatoWriMo yet? Er…no. This has been the one day of relaxation I’ve had in over a week. New jobs (plural!) were delivered to me on a platter. And mandatory celebrations sprang up from those. Okay, the latter bit wasn’t exactly work – just distracting. All said, changes are afoot…and I’m all hands on deck.
Previously on Steep Stories: Our fearless (or rather, fearful) protagonist was whisked away to an underground, dwarven tearoom in Darjeeling – one that was overrun with dancing snake-people. The crisis was averted by a well-placed Hindi movie musical number…oh, and splendid tea was had in the interim. Afterwards, the pajama’d thirtysomething, a gnome, and an undead botanist hastened their escape. And, now, the continuation…
“Well, this is awkward,” I said with feigned levity while sipping my green tea.
“You have a penchant for snark,” the once-living Robert Fortune grumbled.
The deceased-but-animated Scottish botanist had every reason to be ill-tempered. We were stuck in a rather large bird cage, guarded from all corners by birds. Worse, they were armed with what appeared to be glowing spears. I had no desire to discover what the “glowy-part” could do. On the bright side, though, the tea they served was good. Sipping it gave me time to think why all of the birds spoke Korean.
The only occupants of the cage were me, Zombie Fortune, and a rather disheveled, multi-tailed, yellow fox. Thed – our gnomish compatriot – was nowhere to be found. How we came to be caged by birds was the subject of debate. One moment we were escaping under Darjeeling – the next, we were greeted by pitch blackness, then…birds happened. When Fortune and I awoke, we were caged and served tea.
The bird-guard (?) that had handed us tea said only one word, “Teuksun.”
I assumed he meant the tea. The leaves were small by Chinese green tea standards, curlier than Japanese greens, and possessed a very different aroma than any green tea I’d come across. There was a sweetness and a smokiness to them that was strangely tantalizing. A bit of nuttiness also showed up in the after-whiff.
The liquor was a very light green with a yellowish tinge, very similar in appearance to a Chinese green. However, the scent was nut-sweet, almost like sencha by way of green rooibos. A lingering vegetal underpinning was also present. That same vegetal feeling showed up on first sip but transitioned to a bouquet of sweetened grass, chestnuts and autumn air. While excellent, a second steep turned out better.
“This is interesting tea,” I said, trying to distract from my predicament. “Hints of vanilla and caramel with a vegetal underpinning.”
“You’re not going to drink it?” I asked – greedy hands at the ready.
“I’ve been drinking it for the last six months,” the yellow fox said.
The leaves for this looked just like the Teuksun – vibrant, forest-green, curly leaves. What was different was…well…everything else. The scent was less smoky and sweeter. There wasn’t as nutty a presence, either. Instead, it was just very pleasant to the nostrils. Not too strong; not too soft.
On the flavor front, the darker liquor that resulted imparted a way different profile than the Teuksun. The sweetness was doubled, and there wasn’t as strong of a vegetal note either. Grassy, yes. (It was green tea, after all.)
“Kinda silky and sweet,” I said with a swallow. “Comparable to some good spring Long Jings I’ve tried.”
“Agreed,” Fortune said perkily, awaking from his funk. “A sweet, white winy note.”
“You said this was ‘Gamnong’?” I asked. “As in, the rich part of Seoul, South Korea?”
The fox sighed. “No, that’s Gangnam. Common misconception, actually.”
Ah, I thought to myself. It sounded absurdly close to “Gangnam” – a place I had only become aware of thanks to a song. A catchy song, at that. “Gangnam Style” by Psy – the first Korean crossover hit of its kind. I had a feeling the fox knew of that as well, hence the misconception.
“I’m surprised you speak English,” Fortune said between happy sips.
“I’m surprised you’re both human,” the fox chortled.
“He is,” Fortune said, pointing a thumb at me. “I’m not…well…anymore.”
“Undead,” the fox pondered. “That’s rough.”
The botanist shrugged. “I’ve had time to adapt to it. I’m Robert Fortune, this living lad is The Lazy Literatus.”
“I have a name!” I snapped.
“No one cares,” Fortune returned.
“I’m Hwang,” the fox said. “The English sort call me Yellow. For obvious reasons.”
“Any idea where we are?” I asked
“A pocket realm known only to magically-imbued birds,” Hwang explained. “Awaiting judgment.”
“For?” Fortune pressed.
“Me? Thieving. You? No clue.”
“There was a gnome named Thed with us…” I began.
“He’s being sentenced right now,” the yellow fox added gravely. “By the Sparrow Prince himself.”
“Sparrow Prince?” I repeated. “Seriously?”
“Yes, what’s odd about that?” Hwang asked in return.
“Oh, nothing.” I chose to leave the South Park reference alone.
“Wait…did you say, Sparrow Prince?!” Fortune demanded.
“Indeed I did,” Hwang rolled his eyes. “So glad you’re paying attention.”
“Damn,” Fortune seethed. “They’re gonna kill him! We have to get out of here.”
“What do you know?” I queried.
“I know that Thed is dead if we don’t rescue him.”
“Why?” I yelled.
“Because the Sparrow Prince is convinced that Thed sold actual sparrow tongues to humans in Korea two thousand years ago,” Fortune said through a heaving sigh.
“That’s stupid,” I said with eyes narrowed.
“Sparrows are stupid,” Hwang interjected.
Fortune continued, “Korean green tea is also known as jaksul-cha, which translates to ‘sparrow’s tongue’. Thed was one of the first magical creatures to bring tea leaves to the land that is now known as Korea.”
Hwang went wide-eyed, “He’s that gnome?! The one that was in hiding from Guan Yin?”
The undead Scotsman nodded. “The very same. He was part of Queen Suro’s caravan that brought tea seeds from India to ancient Korea. He was in hiding from the bodhisattva.”
“He’s famous among the fox-folk,” Hwang said with glazed eyes. “One of the greatest thieves and tricksters to ever ride the ley-lines.”
“He never intended to be,” Fortune countered.
“I didn’t either,” the fox winked.
“So…” I clapped my hands. “How do we get out of here?”
“Leave that to me,” Hwang said as he clanked his cup against the cage bars. “Guard! More hot water!”
One of the birdmen mumbled a curse in Korean, but sauntered off to fetch a kettle. When he returned, Hwang grinned with eyes closed. He, then, removed some dark-colored leaves from behind one of his tails. Appearance-wise, it looked like any typical black tea one would find on the market. The pieces resembled a BOP – dark brown, small, and with some curly pieces thrown in. Their aroma was straight nuts. No, not as in crazy, but actual nuts – almonds, I’d reckon. Only a few oolongs have had that type of scent. Before I could ask, he explained.
“This is what I was caught for – stealing tea leaves from a Korean bird merchant. How could I not? They were called ‘Hwang Cha’. It had my name on it, literally. I was framed, I tell ya.” He detailed his claim to “innocence” further as he brewed up the leaves.
The leaves gave the water a yellow gold color – like the namesake suggested – with a pleasantly sweet and roastly aroma.
“Is this really the time for –“ Robert Fortune began.
“Just you wait,” the fox said, pouring the liquor into our cups.
On taste, there was an initial creaminess that transitioned to the expected nutty mouthfeel, and all the while there was this sweet underpinning to the palate. In character, it was a lot like another oxidized “yellow tea” I tried from the Goomtee estate in Darjeeling, yet much more refined. It is as complex as all the other Korean teas I’ve tried. A bit on the pricey side…but you honestly do get what you pay for.
Hwang motioned us to come nearer to him. “Now, blow the steam at the guards,” he whispered. “I could’ve escaped this way at any time…but never had a reason ’til now.”
Fortune and I shrugged at each other but did as we were told. We each went to a corner of the cage, faced our cups to one of the spear-birds, and blew as hard as we could. A funny thing happened…and I do – literally – mean funny. When the tea steam came in contact with the guards, each one sniffed, shook their heads, and promptly collapsed into a feathered heap.
The fourth guard noticed his fallen comrades and seemed poised to signal for reinforcements. Hwang was faster, however, leaping clear across the cage – blowing steam right before he landed. The bird fainted in mid-caw!.
“I’m surprised they didn’t hear us plotting,” I said.
“They’re Korean,” Fortune reminded. “And birds are idiots.”
“And so am I,” I deprecated.
“No argument here,” Hwang stifled a chuckle.
We dashed as best we could to the only source of light in the oddly-tunneled, avian catacomb. Upon reaching the illuminated opening, we were greeted by a grand amphitheater. All the seats were packed with flocks of birds, gulls, jays, and every other assortment of feathered beasty. At the center of the “stage” was a diminutive man in a pointed, green hat. To either side of him, a bird yeoman, and confronting him were a sparrow with a crown and sword and a heinous looking beak of a bird in robes.
“Oh my God, he’s real,” I said, in reference to the South Park-like Sparrow Prince.
“Of course, he is,” Hwang responded. “Why wouldn’t he be?”
“Nevermind.” I had no time to explain a cartoon to a talking fox.
The Sparrow Prince was orating fiercely, outlining the charges against Thed in perfectly cadenced Korean. The robed buzzard-pelican-thing nodded at the accusations listed. I thought I heard the word “cannibalism” mentioned in conjunction with “jaksul”.
“So, what’s the plan?” Hwang asked.
“Leave this to me,” Robert Fortune said, clearing his throat. “My fellow avian citizens!”
The interruption was met with alarmed squawks and siren calls. Fortune did his darnedest to academically explain the linguistic misunderstanding made by the Sparrow Prince and his ilk. The lecture was welcomed with deaf ears and deafening screeches. Hwang was right; birds were idiots.
“He’s dying out there,” I cringed. “Well…more than usual.”
Hwang nodded in agreement. “Zombies are horrible at speeches. Soul of the voice is the first thing to go with undying. “
“I guess I’ll have to give it a g-“
“No!” the yellow fox waved me back. “As a human, you’d be mauled on sight. I’ve got this.”
The multi-tailed fox leapt into the air and landed right in front of the Sparrow Prince. The bird squawked something akin to gibberish. Hwang – in turn – held up a hand to the sparrow’s beak and said one thing. One thing that I had hoped he wouldn’t say.
“Oppan Gamnong Style!” the fox shouted. Electrosynth music blared to accompany his battle-cry.
Hwang had actually done it – took a well-known pop song (and Internet meme) and turned it into a tea pun. If I hadn’t been so embarrassed by it, I would’ve teared up at the ingenuity. The little trickster-fox trotted his way around the amphitheater, and the birds frenzied with him – enraptured by the retardedly addictive song. Fortune and I grabbed the chained gnome while the birds were distracted.
“Yet another adventure that ends in song, eh?” Thed commented dryly.
“Shut up,” Fortune said with exasperation. The poor zombie had been out of sorts this entire debacle. I guess being caged did that to the undead. Who knew?
As we made our way out of the bird tribunal, I looked back at the commotion. I briefly made eye contact with the fox – various chirping flyers swarmed around him. He smiled and winked before his form was enveloped by the fog of feathers.
I hesitated…then left.
Sacrifice by tea…and dance, was my final thought before leaving the “birdemic” behind.
Acknowledgments:
Special thanks to Hankook Tea for providing the samples for this write-up. To purchase their wares, go HERE.
We dashed as best we could to the only source of light in the oddly-tunneled, avian catacomb. Upon reaching the illuminated opening, we were greeted by a grand amphitheater. All the seats were packed with flocks of birds, gulls, jays, and every other assortment of feathered beasty. At the center of the “stage” was a diminutive man in a pointed, green hat. To either side of him, a bird yeoman, and confronting him were a sparrow with a crown and sword and a heinous looking beak of a bird in robes.
