I'm drinking liu an right now. I bought it at a local Chinatown ginseng shop back in autumn 2007.
When I bought it, it tasted musty and a little rancid..."in a good way" as I said at the liu bao tasting.
Today it tastes like liu bao, shu pu'er, and liu an mixed together, but it looks nothing like a blend. It has liu bao's richness, shu pu'er's earthiness, and liu an's old hay sweetness, and a creaminess all its own. The rancid replaced by depth, thankfully. Butterscotch appears early in the brewings and is the most interesting chord. I say "chord" because butterscotch simultaneously strikes the tongue and nose: it's a fragrance and a flavor.
Before, flavor disappeared around infusion 6, and now flavor lasts until infusion 10.
A year away from the scents of the medicine shop improved this tea. You might wonder why I bought this tea at all; who drinks a rancid tea that dies at the 5th infusion, of questionable provenance (it came loose), and sold so cheap it "can't be good"?
When I tried the tea at the store, two things struck me. First, the tea coated my mouth and made me salivate, and second, my body felt a rush. The former told me this tea could mellow into something decent, and the latter told me even if it aging failed to improve the tea, I could use it to meditate and enjoy the qi. This revealed something to me about my tea habits: I'm willing to forgive almost anything in a tea as long as it takes me somewhere. I reclassify it as a "meditation tea", and I have a few of them on my shelf. I don't serve them to others because these teas' flavors would register as mediocre to most.
With so little information about this tea, and aged teas in general, what we know about tea is merely what we choose to believe. From our belief in a tea's quailty to our belief that certain signs indicate quality, occasionally approaching tea from a meta, external standpoint offers the benefit of keeping our feet on the ground, realizing that when we drink tea, we are a conduit that allows our beliefs to communicate with our realities. It's a beautiful thing.
Showing posts with label liu an. Show all posts
Showing posts with label liu an. Show all posts
15 November 2008
07 May 2008
2005 Liu An Basket of Anhui Keemun Liu An Tea Co
2005 Liu An Basket of Anhui Keemun Liu An Tea Co.
Liu An is a love of mine. The real stuff is becoming rarer, although as demand is increasing, this may no longer be the case, thankfully. This Liu An from Puerhshop is a 2005 production of the Anhui Keemun Liu An Tea Co. The basket is squatter than most other liu an baskets I've seen. It has a rustic neifei:
The leaves are bigger than average and green. Twigs make up about 1/3 of the basket's volume, but this is on par with older liu an. However, bigger leaf means that there are very few tips, which concerned me. Also, brewing raw liu an from 2005 usually results in very bitter, unpalatable tea.
A close look at the leaves shows their color, size, and grade. Notice the prominent yellow-green leaves amongst the darker green.
The taste was mild, surprising for a young liu an, but not surprising for the size of the leaf. The twigs also help cut the strength of the tea, but I feel like this was a leaf grade issue. I can't say what this will age into. In fact, because of the huge production gap with liu an, late 1950s to the early 1980s, no one really knows what our new liu an baskets will become in 30~50 years. I've had some very good late 1980s Sun Yi Shun brand liu an, but that tea had few twigs and many tips. If that's the right recipe for good liu an, I'm concerned with this basket. However, liu an I've had from the 1930s and 1950s has had many twigs and a varied blend of leaf, so I have to withhold judgment of this basket.
I do wish it tasted stronger and activated more energy. There's no such thing as an "everyday" young liu an tea.
I won't be buying another basket, but I'm glad to have this one just to know what happens to it with time. Since the cultural revolution, so much about knowing what young teas will age well is reinventing the wheel, as much with liu an as with pu'er.
Liu An is a love of mine. The real stuff is becoming rarer, although as demand is increasing, this may no longer be the case, thankfully. This Liu An from Puerhshop is a 2005 production of the Anhui Keemun Liu An Tea Co. The basket is squatter than most other liu an baskets I've seen. It has a rustic neifei:
The leaves are bigger than average and green. Twigs make up about 1/3 of the basket's volume, but this is on par with older liu an. However, bigger leaf means that there are very few tips, which concerned me. Also, brewing raw liu an from 2005 usually results in very bitter, unpalatable tea.
A close look at the leaves shows their color, size, and grade. Notice the prominent yellow-green leaves amongst the darker green.
The taste was mild, surprising for a young liu an, but not surprising for the size of the leaf. The twigs also help cut the strength of the tea, but I feel like this was a leaf grade issue. I can't say what this will age into. In fact, because of the huge production gap with liu an, late 1950s to the early 1980s, no one really knows what our new liu an baskets will become in 30~50 years. I've had some very good late 1980s Sun Yi Shun brand liu an, but that tea had few twigs and many tips. If that's the right recipe for good liu an, I'm concerned with this basket. However, liu an I've had from the 1930s and 1950s has had many twigs and a varied blend of leaf, so I have to withhold judgment of this basket.
I do wish it tasted stronger and activated more energy. There's no such thing as an "everyday" young liu an tea.
I won't be buying another basket, but I'm glad to have this one just to know what happens to it with time. Since the cultural revolution, so much about knowing what young teas will age well is reinventing the wheel, as much with liu an as with pu'er.
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