five times the tea

The more practice I get at steeping larger quantities of Oolong for shorter periods of time, the more I get out of this tea. I think there's going to be much more Oolong from Taiwan in my near future, but for some reason I've come across quite a lot of Himalayan Oolong lately. Whether it's from Nepal or Darjeeling, my experience has been that it's more sensitive than the Taiwanese or Chinese Oolongs that I know.

I've had much better results from using water at no more than 75°C. No idea why this is, but just by using water this little bit cooler means that I get the tea to steep as many as two or even three additional times. Am coming to the end of a Nepalese tea that I've written about before called Jun Chiyabari Oolong, and I wanted to write about it now in case I don't find this again for a while.


The leaves looked nearly identical to the high mountain Oolongs I know from Darjeeling (no surprise there). Although there were quite a few green leaves mixed in, this looked like it had a relatively high oxidation. The appearance of the leaves don't always tell, but once I started brewing it, it was obvious this was not a light tea.




Slowly, I've come to expect very little from the first infusion. This was no exception. Having said that, I must say that I love the scent of the leaves in the pot and the tea itself once it's been poured. So fresh and vibrant. It's a wonder that something can smell so delicious and lack a distinctive taste.

The next steep was thankfully the exact opposite. If anything it was a bit too bitter. There was a bit of a burnt taste at this point even if the leaves continued to be overly fragrant.



I took photos of each infusion, but they didn't differ much from cup to cup. This tea that's grown so high in the mountains has a very dark coppery cup colour.






As the bitterness lessened in the third infusion, the taste of vanilla started to come out. this is exactly the kind of thing I never experienced brewing this tea in a big conventional teapot. By the fourth and fifth infusions, the strength of the tea was noticeably diminished. Nevertheless, I could finally taste the floral notes that I could only smell before. Ordinarily, I would've tried to squeeze out one last cup of tea, but the five infusions I had in the late morning/early afternoon seemed to be as good as this tea was going to get.

What a marvel that I got five very different tea experiences from the same little handful of tea leaves.

Oolong all the way from the Rohini Estate in Darjeeling

The test for my new teapot has been to brew a few Oolongs that I simply couldn't enjoy prepared in my normal teapot. The first one I tried, and it was much better, was a Jun Chiyabari Oolong from Nepal. Not sure why it tasted so much better steeped repeatedly in this brown clay pot, but it did.

I'm hoping that the more I experiment with these different teas, the more infusions I'll be able to get. Earlier this year, I got some Darjeeling Rohini Oolong from Teehaus Shila in Hamburg. I've briefly mentioned Oolong from Darjeeling before (the Himalayan Oolong that Darjeeling Tea Express sent me was quite good), but because I couldn't brew the Oolong from the Rohini Estate to taste very good, I assumed Oolongs from Nepal or Darjeeling simply weren't of a very high quality. Am beginning to see that the problem lay more with me than with the tea.

Here's how the leaves looked at the outset:



If I hadn't tasted this tea, I'd say the leaves looked like a typical Darjeeling black tea. This tea was anything but.

The first infusion was light, but there was something a bit malty to the taste. I steeped the second infusion too long and although it was a bit bitter (something I rarely experience with Oolongs), I noticed a taste that I normally associate with Formosa Oolong. It was almost a bit of a burnt flavour.

The third infusion was where I under-steeped it after going too long the time before. Nevertheless, there was a bit of a mint aftertaste. Very light, but definitely there. Only on the fourth infusion could I detect a bit of vanilla. I've never tasted vanilla in an Oolong. Quite a surprise.

Here's how the leaves looked after the workout I gave them:



For the next week or so, I'll be in France for the New Year. Cannot wait to report on the Tea Salons in Nice and whether there are differences between tea drinking there and in Paris. Stay tuned.

a whiff of Nepal

Have been on a bit of an Oolong kick lately, and really enjoy this sort that I found a few moths ago at a shop in Landshut (an hour and a half northeast of Munich). The estate is called Jun Chiyabari and here's their website:

http://www.junchiyabari.com/index.php

I've only had their Oolong, but I can highly recommend it. Only had the first infusion tonight, so that's all I can report on, but this one's so good, I'll likely keep talking about it periodically. That first sip was so smooth and clean. Fruity and, as with most Oolongs, definitely not bitter.

Like the story of this estate that I read on their website. Most of the teas I research are grown on estates that seem to have been around since time immemorial. This is a fresh, new operation.

I like that's it's in Nepal, but they have the experience of growing in Darjeeling. As much as I like the Oolong, I can't wait to get my hands on some of their green tea.

Refuge in the midst of the Arabica-addled

A few days ago, I mentioned that Vienna is well-known as a coffee-drinking mecca. The history of the coffeehouse is unquestionably entwined with this city. That's why I'm pleasantly surprised by a phenomenon that I'd never noticed the many times I've been here. I think it's because I thought, 'When in Vienna, you're obligated to drink the sticky, dark java.' Assumed that if they had any tea at all, it'd be simple, boring tea bags.

I was very mistaken.

The Viennese know their tea. And nearly every single cafe I've been in (And I've been making the rounds I assure you) has an impressive array of loose-leaf tea. Sometimes multiple choices of Darjeeling and at least one Ceylon and Assam. The green tea selection is also admirable. Wrote about one shop yesterday that had so many good tea books to flip through. Not that every citizen here is as tea-obsessed as we are, but they at least have far more opportunities to learn about it than I would've ever expected.

The best tea cities I've experienced so far are Hamburg, London, San Francisco (though it's been years since I've been there) and Tokyo. All of them have some connection to a port and/or trade. This place doesn't fit either category.

But it was the capital of the Austrian-Hungarian Empire at the time when tea was making it's way from Asia to the West. The diplomatic significance then and now of this city means that tea drinkers, however small in comparison to their Arabica-addled brethren, are still a sizeable and vocal minority.

In the last few days, I've had a variety of Darjeelings, an excellent Matcha, two Chinese and one Japanese green. And a Jun Chiyabari Oolong, which always seems to delight me whether I have it at home or while travelling. If you're coming to Vienna anytime soon, no need to despair about the state of tea drinking.

There's plenty for those of us on the leaf side in this city of coffeehouses.

Tea in rough waters

Have had a decent day today. Stressful, but all of what was thrown at me, I dealt with relatively well. To what do I attribute my ability to deal?

Well, tea obviously.

That's a bit of an exaggeration, but only a bit. I dealt with a frustrated client early this morning, and while I calmly explained how I could help him solve his problem, I was sipping on a Ceylon Nuwara.

Then packed up my tea in my bag that I take on the train, and went to an appointment with a client who's not yet paid me for work I did in March. Was still very calm. Somehow. And while I was talking to him, there was Assam Sephinjuri coursing through my veins.

Taught a class to a group of lawyers, while I polished off the Assam, and grabbed a Chai from an evil corporate coffee shop, who I've mentioned before but won't name again.

But the real stress of the day occurred when I got home for lunch and there were multiple emergencies (personal and business-related). I was drinking Jun Chiyabari Oolong at this point, and I assure you it helped.

Now, I'm off to proctor a test that I spent a good deal of the weekend preparing, and I've packed a thermos of Assam Mangalam, as well as a travel mug with China Wu Lu green tea in it.

Am sure I'll be fine the rest of the day. Am even rather certain that the evening will be ok.

Cutting the cheese (with #tea)

Most people would ask, 'What sort of wine goes with this cheese?' But I'm not going to do that. Instead: What kind of tea? With cheese? Well sure. Why not? You drink your cheese and nibble at your wine. While you're doing that, I'll be having a nice cup of tea, thank you very much.

And while I sip my dark, steaming, brewed deliciousness, I'll be having a little cheese. Cheese glorious cheese.

Was at a cheese fest in Bad Tölz in the mountains (or in the foothills at least) yesterday and tried more varieties of cheese that I could shake a stick at. Must've tried a few dozen kinds, but I'll only bore you with the ones I brought home with me.

In the interest of full disclosure, I must admit that there's no way I could brew all the tea I'm describing as I write this. Well, I take that back. I suppose I could do that, but I'm not going to. I'm drinking a Darjeeling Gielle at the moment. It's a light first flush. Now on o the main event:

First is a bleu cheese from Bavaria. I decided it was strong enough that I needed a mild tea. So I drank Ceylon Adawatte with it. Perfect combination. If I may say so myself.

Then I wanted to pair a cheese with some Darjeeling Singbulli, so I chose Austrian Bergkäse. The Floral notes in the tea seem to somehow fit with the wildflowers I think of when I imagine the cows grazing in high mountain fields. Mmmm...lecker.

After that, I had an unbelievably good French cheese from the Haute-Savoie region on the Italian/Swiss/French border. The cheese was called Reblochon AOC fermier and also made from raw milk. This cheese needed something distinctive. Since I can think of no nicer Oolong, I decided to eat this cheese with Jun Chiyabari Oolong.

I must mention that there was a mustard stand at the cheese fest (Senfmüller Guido Breuer). If you've followed me for any length of time at twitter, you know I have an unhealthy obsession with mustard. Sent an inappropriate amount of time when I should've been tasting cheese trying this and that mustard. Was truly the high point of the afternoon. As good as the cheese and wine are, I'd give nearly anything for a mustard festival.

Back to France, but this time to the north coast to a ville called Lessay. Just looked it up on Google Maps and it's on the coast near Jersey. Old Jersey. The cheese-makers are called Fromagerie Reo (reo@wanadoo.fr) and they make one of the best raw-milk Camemberts that I've ever tasted. This cheese calls for an exquisite cheese. That's why I'll eat it with a Japanese Sencha I adore called Fudji. It's much stronger than other Senchas I've written about. If you ever happen across Japan Sench Fudji, try it. You'll be glad you did.

I've had so much cheese in the last few days, I think I might burst. Maybe that's partly why I instinctively reached for the tea. Without some liquid to mix with the tea, I might've gotten some cheese lodged in my throat.

If you die of cheese lahikmajoe, there'll be no more tea.