MR. WEI YUE DE’S TEA GARDEN
Our first stop in Anxi was to visit the exuberant and charismatic tea man Mr. Wei Yue De. Even though we didn’t arrive in Anxi until after 11 p.m. he insisted on dinner together, and then he personally conducted a gong fu tea tasting for us. Before the night ended, after the eleventh or twelfth infusion, he had explained the three distinctive qualities that brewed Tieguanyin tea should express: fragrance, aftertaste (returning flavor), and resonance (lingering, persistent flavor).
Mr. Wei Yue De prepares to brew Tieguanyin tea (Fujian Province, China).
The following day, we traveled up into the mountains to see Mr. Wei Yue De’s tea garden. It was near the mountaintop, at the end of a series of switchbacks that defined this precipitous drive. We passed through several villages, and nearly all of the ground floor spaces were filled with women sitting around big tables sorting fresh leaf or finished tea. We noticed that many houses were built down into the slope of the mountains, making the rooftops easily accessible from ground level for spreading fresh leaf to wither in the sun.
We picked up a narrow and slippery mud-packed trail downhill through the garden. As we descended further down, the view opened up into an astonishing landscape covered with cascading rows of tea bushes down the hillside in neatly planted tiers. A maze of footpaths and trails headed off in many directions through the garden. We could see tea everywhere—down the hill, beside us, above us, and out across the valley. We came to the place in the garden where a handful of the ancient “mother” tea plants, some of which are 150 years old, were situated. To honor the heritage of these plants, Mr. Wei Yue De had installed a life-sized white marble statue of the goddess Kuan Yin.
Kuan Yin protects Mr. Wei Yue De’s Anxi tea garden (Fujian Province, China).
The one last remaining hurdle to this “walk in the tea garden” was a strenuous, vertical climb that brought us out of the garden and up to the tea factory. The physicality of this hike gave us a good sense of what strong physical condition the tea pluckers in Mr. Wei Yue De’s beautiful but challenging tea garden must be in.
The rugged landscape near Anxi yields incredible tea (Fujian Province, China).
Locally, Tieguanyin is known as Red Heart Goddess tea. In Xiping village Tieguanyin is a family affair; it seems as if everyone is involved in the tea business. From cultivating tea bushes to plucking or sorting freshly plucked leaf in front of their house, tea is the major industry. South Fujian tea producers, which includes Tieguanyin, place a great deal of emphasis on the fragrance of the plucked leaf and the aroma of the finished tea. Their teas are less oxidized than the teas from the north, and less oxidation (or greener oolongs) encourages aroma. In northern Fujian, where the oolongs are more heavily oxidized (or darker), there is more emphasis placed on a rich and deep flavor of the brew. In some cases the teas are leafy in style, in others they are rolled, or semirolled, stems included. Either way, the friendly competition between north versus south Fujian only brings added riches to the table of oolong tea enthusiasts. Within the context of the Tieguanyin style, one can find examples that are earthy, complex, and chewy and others that are floral and sweet and that deliver a long finish.
Tieguanyin processing is the result of two factors that combine to yield the distinctive flavor profile: (1) the variety of tea bush and (2) the method of leaf processing. Tieguanyin is made from leaf plucked from Tieguanyin cultivars grown in twenty-seven villages located in the mountains surrounding Anxi. Red Heart Kuan Yin, White Heart Kuan Yin, and Thin Leaf Kuan Yin are the dominant varieties; the best teas are said to be those made from the Red Heart Kuan Yin cultivars.
Look closely at the spent leaves of Tieguanyin after brewing to notice their lovely russet-brown color and delicate crimson edging. This color is due to the shaking and slight bruising that the leaves undergo during processing and is a signature appearance of well-crafted Tieguanyin. Tieguanyin production incorporates traditional as well as modern processing techniques. This involves eighteen steps and takes a period of thirty-six to forty hours from start to finish, depending on the weather, the humidity levels, and the size of the leaf. We were especially fascinated watching the ball-rolling process, whereby leaf is bundled and secured into large cloth balls and then rolled, turned, and pressed in a rotary rolling machine for several minutes. This action gives the leaf the familiar ball shape. Ball-rolling was once done completely by hand and foot, but few tea producers use that method today.
MONKEY-PICKED TEA
One of China’s enchanting tea legends, this story suggests that trained monkeys were once employed to pick the most desirous leaves from tea bushes that grew out of humans’ reach in isolated locations high in the Wuyi Shan cliffs. Perhaps, behind the bucolic illustrations of monkeys scampering through the tea trees selecting the finest leaf and passing it to the tea workers below, is a veiled commentary on the fact that these tribute teas were “out of the reach” of most people in more ways than one. Or perhaps it was an easy joke on the naive Europeans back in the eighteenth century.
Although all steps in the manufacture of Tieguanyin are important, the temperature of the firing ovens during the final drying is the most critical. This step needs the hands of a tea master to control the intensity of the heat and to vary the amount of heat as necessary. Firing at a high temperature darkens the leaves and strengthens the flavor, a situation that would lead to ruined tea if not carefully kept in check. The process is as follows:
Leaf plucking—only hand-plucked leaf (not sickle-plucked with a knife-like tool) is allowed.
Withering, cooling, and resting of the leaf.
First sun-drying of the leaf.
Bruising and rattling of the leaf.
Second sun-drying of the leaf.
Second bruising and rattling of the leaf.
Light tumbling of the leaf to develop fragrance.
Rest, then more tumbling to develop flavor.
Rest prior to oxidation.
De-enzyming the leaf for moisture removal.
Rotary rolling of the leaf to rupture cells internally and release the cell juices and to distribute residual moisture within the leaf evenly.
Preliminary leaf drying.
Second rotary leaf rolling (for shape).
Second leaf drying.
Leaf rolling in cloth for shape (ball-rolling).
Baking and drying to fix the final shape of the leaf.
Sorting leaf from stems.
Final drying in baskets over charcoal or in tea-firing ovens.
Tieguanyin leaf is gathered in preparation for the ball-rolling step (Fujian Province, China).
The ball of leaf is horizontally rolled in a machine that replicates the handwork of former tea artisans (Fujian Province, China).
A VISIT TO THE PHOENIX MOUNTAIN
We began in the city of Chaozhou, located in the outskirts of Phoenix Mountain. We came here to see the legendary Fenghuang Dan Cong tea trees, which are reported to be close to two hundred years old. Local history dates production of this tea back to the Tang dynasty (618–907), when indigenous tea bushes in this area were first shaped and pruned to grow as a tree with a single trunk. After a long and winding drive up a notoriously narrow mountain road, we arrived at the elevation where the temperature cools and the clouds and mist begin.
When we reached the tea garden, the old tea trees appeared like ghostly apparitions peering out of the mists. They stood nearly ten feet tall and looked more like fruit trees than tea bushes. A light rustle of wind gently rippled through the trees, created a delicate clacking sound among the leaves. Fenghuang Dan Cong leaf pluckers use ladders to scramble up into these trees to reach the large leaves. Wet stones and muddy paths add to the atmosphere of the place, but make it difficult to walk on the slippery, sloping paths.
Stately Fenghuang tea trees show perfect single-trunk oolong form (Fujian Province, China).
These trees are the descendants of the trees that provided tea for export to the West, along with Wuyi
Shan’s Da Hong Pao oolong tea and the legendary smoky black Lapsang Souchong tea. These trees are part of the nearly three hundred varieties of indigenous tea plants that are unique to northern Guangdong and most of Fujian Province. Thus Fenghuang Dan Cong oolong tea cannot be duplicated elsewhere. Local modifications in leaf-processing techniques, coupled with varying soil and weather conditions, bring distinctive nuances of flavor to these teas. Multiple infusions are the norm with these teas.
Back down the mountain, we visited the tea factory and on the way discovered that in this town the roadside is used as a convenient place by some tea farmers to lay down their tea for withering before shaping and firing. We watched farmers sweep clear a small section of the roadside, quickly remove tea by the handfuls from their tea baskets and sprinkle the leaves in a single layer over the asphalt. After a short withering of perhaps one hour, the tea was swept up and put back in the basket as if nothing at all had occurred! We were delighted to observe this ingenious method of withering and marveled at the simplicity and common sense of these farmers. In the tea factory, however, the processing is done in a more controlled environment. We were shown a scaled-down version of the lengthy tumbling, rolling, and drying processes required to make Fenghuang Dan Cong oolong.
During peak tea season, small tea-farming families use any available surface area, even a section of road, to wither fresh leaf (Fujian Province, China).
Traditionally, Fenghuang leaf is withered on bamboo mats on a rack in a local tea factory (Fujian Province, China).
Guangdong Province. The modern name for Canton, the region made famous in the days of the historical tea trade, Guangdong Province is home to Fenghuang Dan Cong (Phoenix Oolong). Bordering on southern Fujian Province, the eastern tea-producing region of Guangdong comes under the influence of moist air from the South China Sea. The teas are grown on and in the vicinity of Fenghuang, Phoenix Mountain, located in Chiuan and Chaozhou counties. This is a subtropical region, and the tea grows at altitudes of 4,265 feet in terraced gardens composed of rocky, loose soil.
Fenghuang Dan Cong, or Fonghuang Tan-Chung as it is sometimes called, is made from large, single leaves, and it is classified as a single-trunk oolong. The tea bushes are pruned to grow and develop like a tree, with a single trunk that sports individual branches, much like a stone-fruit tree. The leaves of Fenghuang Dan Cong are long, slender, and slightly twisted, and the tea is sweet and complex; it is very elegant in style with a long, refreshing finish. These teas are difficult to come by in the West and are highly prized in China. Now classified as a famous tea, Fenghuang Dan Cong was once an imperial tribute tea. Although the yield from old trees is not as prolific as it is from younger tea bushes, the tea is long on flavor and very mouth-filling. Occasionally, delicate tiny white Yulan blossoms are used to scent the tea.
CHINA’S WHITE TEAS
Under the rule of Tang dynasty Emperor Huizong (r. 626–649) the custom of paying a yearly tribute of rare tea to the emperor was established. During his time these teas came from the mountains of Zhejiang Province, but later, during the reign of Emperor Huizong in the Song dynasty (960–1279), neighboring Fujian Province became the source of the imperial tribute teas. In fact, during the Song era Fujian was quick to develop secret imperial tea gardens, tucked away in the ethereal clouds and mist of the Wuyi Shan.
Surrounded by luxurious growth of the subvariety of Camellia sinensis tea bush that yields the legendary and authentic white tea, this expert budset plucker told us, “Life is good out in the Big Sprout tea garden” (Fujian Province, China).
Emperor Huizong (r. 1101–1125) no doubt sipped white tea that was made from the finest, velvety, gossamer tea powder. The emperor was so devoted to tea that he penned a book about tea, the Ta Kuan Cha Lun. Historians theorize that Emperor Huizhong was influenced by Cai Xiang, a Fujian tea master of note who lived during the time of the emperor. Cai Xiang was the first commissioner of tea and kept a ledger book, the Ch’a Lu, in which he recorded information for the emperor’s knowledge concerning the processing and grading of tribute teas.
VISITING A WHITE TEA FACTORY
To make the new-style Shou Mei tea, the factory workers pile fresh leaf in a heap 8 to 12 inches deep (20 to 30 centimeters) outdoors in a covered area and leave it for twenty-four hours to initiate withering. After this step the leaf is gathered up and taken indoors to the withering room. In China, it is common for withering to occur first outside, then inside. We were fortunate to be at the factory at a time when every rack in the withering room was filled with leaf, floor to ceiling. Several large windows along each side of the room were thrown wide open to allow the dry fresh morning air to fill the room and circulate among the withering mats.
Each rack held fifteen open-weave withering trays, and on each tray a single layer of fresh leaf had been loosely spread out to wither. Leaf is always carefully spread in a single layer (jing zhi, “gently placed”) to avoid bruising the leaf by overcrowding or crushing it under the weight of too many leaves. This efficient configuration of trays was designed to allow the leaf to receive maximum air circulation from both top and bottom. A grand total of approximately twelve hundred withering mats filled the room with tea that would undergo further natural withering from thirty to forty more hours, depending on the weather. The amount of withering combined with rolling and low or high heat during the firing determines the final color of the dried tea. Short withering times yield light-colored buds or leaf, and longer withering gives leaf such as that for Shou Mei a dark, greenish-gray color. When the withering has progressed to the desired result, a quick tug of a rope triggers the trays to release from the front of the rack in a domino-effect fashion, causing the leaf to slide off the trays and onto the floor in neat piles. From there the tea is collected and taken downstairs to be rolled and fired.
Freshly picked leaf for Shou Mei, spread jing zhi, airing on custom-designed racks in the withering room of a village tea factory on the outskirts of Fuding, the heart of authentic white tea (Fujian Province, China).
Perhaps no other Chinese tea is as misrepresented and misunderstood as Fujian white tea. Poetic gestures to white tea refer to it as being “white like the clouds, green like a dream, pure like snow, and as aromatic as an orchid.” Bai Hao Yin Zhen, a descendant of the tribute teas that once supplied the emperor, now appears on the list of China’s famous teas and is available to all tea enthusiasts willing to pay the high price for a cup of imperial splendor.
We arrived early one May morning at a village tea factory located on the outskirts of Fuding in Fujian Province. The tea from this village is picked and manufactured completely by about a hundred adult villagers who employ no outside help or seasonal workers to assist them with their tasks. They maintain a high level of quality control this way and are very proud of the careful way that they produce their white tea. Production of the budset white Silver Needle (Bai Hao Yin Zhen) and White Peony (Bai Mudan) had already taken place. This tea factory also makes a white-tip oolong tea from a Shui Xian tea bush varietal called Oriental Beauty Oolong. At this time the villagers were plucking a configuration of four large leaves to make Shou Mei, a coarse-leaf tea made from the Da Bai Mao (Fuding Big Sprout) tea bush varietal.
Elegant in its simplicity, finished authentic Yin Zhen budset tea, ready to be tasted.
As with all Chinese tea methodology and production, the process is exacting. Traditionally, white tea was allowed to wither either outdoors or indoors, away from sunlight or applied heat. After withering, the tea was quickly and simply fired at a low temperature before any bruising or oxidation of the leaf could occur. This is still true of the most expensive budset Bai Hao Yin Zhen. But we learned here that some of the grades of leaf white tea are given a light oxidation and a light bruising (rolling) before bring fired at a higher than normal temperature. This deepens the flavor and darkens the color of the leaf, adding a grayish-green cast to the leaf. This tweaking of the processing does not classify these teas as black teas, but it introduces a vari
able that makes them not traditional white tea either. They are referred to as new-style white teas, a variation that was introduced toward the end of the 1960s. This may make perfect sense in the white tea–producing areas of Fujian, but unfortunately only adds confusion and uncertainty to the labeling of product being sold in the West. This style of white tea developed as a way to give teahouses in China a stronger-tasting, lower-cost white tea and to appeal to the tastes of tea drinkers from Guangdong and Hong Kong, who comprise the largest audience in China for white tea.
CHINA’S SCENTED TEAS
Flower-scented teas abound in China. In fact, China has been inexorably linked with lovely scented teas since the Ming dynasty (1368–1644). Fragrant blossoms of many types give delight to tea drinkers—chrysanthemum, gardenia, jasmine, osmanthus, rose, and yulan (magnolia) are the most popular. Later, in the Qing dynasty (1644–1911), teas flavored with the sweet fruity essence of bergamot, litchi, orange, and pomelo introduced the category of flavored teas, which remain popular today.
Jasmine tea. This is the most famous scented tea in China. In all its fragrant, perfumed, and exotic glory, jasmine takes top honors as the jewel in the crown. The jasmine bush that produces these intoxicating flowers is not indigenous to China, however; it is believed to have been brought to China from Persia sometime during the Period of Disunity (220–589).
The Story of Tea Page 19
