For instance, all teas tend to have a general tea flavour, which instantly identifies something as tea. Oolong teas also tends to have a general oolong flavour shared with other 0olongs. Some teas have strong regional characteristics. An oolong from Wuyi mountains, for instance, would be difficult to be mistaken for an oolong from Anxi or Taiwan. The last layers are the most varied, and are often associated with tastes and aromas outside of tea: butter, cocao, honey, spice. A mixture of these can identify a certain tea as a specific varietal. I don't have much skill in being able to distinguish different varietals of tea that are from the same area, of the same type (oolong, for instance), and processed similarly. The differences tend to quite subtle. A little more floral characteristics in one, a little longer finish in another perhaps. Maybe more accomplished tea drinkers can identify varietals with more confidence.
For me, a really great tea needs to have all these layers in appropriate proportion. An oolong that has outstanding fragrance but lacks the base layers of tea taste and oolong taste is just not satisfying. A cheap bag with an abundance of tea taste may be more satisfying. Perhaps there is a hierarchy involved, you need to have a good foundation to build the more subtle tastes on. The yorkshire teabags I had with Mr. Arvelo-McQuaig had satisfying tea flavour, a noticeable black tea taste, and had a fat layer of malt on top of that. I don't recall the fragrance and the more subtle nuances of the tea, but I remember quite enjoying it based on those few layers of taste alone.
Most yancha (Wuyi oolong) fits these criteria. These teas tends to have a nice tea base, a lasting oolong taste that often lingers on the palate for hours, an instantly identifiable regional taste that is incredibly satisfying, and, for the better examples of this genre, a distinct and exceptionally delicious mineral taste. Other tastes that aren't exactly desirable but adds to the fun of these teas is identifying the degree of roasting employed (lending a roasting taste), and the length of storage (noticeable after a number of years only). Fruit and fruity fragrances are abundant and contribute to the more ephemeral and varying characteristics. Generally its of apricots and other stone fruits; sweet, heavy, with a slight tartness.
My appreciation for tea's complexity is not motivated by a desire to impress others with how refined I am. It's not about reducing its complexity to a list. Tea's complexity is analogous to the type of complexity that people have. We are all human, some of us are from Canada, a few of us are from Toronto, and each of us have our own unique attributes. However, those unique attributes would be not be flattering if we each didn't have shared human attributes.
The complexity in tea makes it more whole. Even though it has many layers, the layers relate to each other in a way that affirms its identity. There is something extremely satisfying in drinking teas one is familiar with. I have this sensation whenever drinking a yancha. The fruit, the mineral, the roast, the tea base... it's a complexity that heightens familiarity and intimacy. I think to myself with each taste sensation: I know the tea I'm drinking very well.
Lovely. I like the way you see teas and people. I think I've always tended towards thinking of people as all a genetic role of the dice, and therefore fundamentally different, with our similarities and patterns imposed by environment. However lately, being in other places and finding that each new stranger is less unfamiliar than the last, sometimes I think that people are just iterations of each other with slightly varied combinations of the less fundamental characteristics.
ReplyDeleteYou make me wish I had such a depth of appreciation for something. I think the closest I came was in reading at one point, and playing piano at another, but since then life has been far too distracting. Tea is a perfect subject for appreciation. Its function seems to be pure enjoyment, since it's just water (the most purely practical substance imaginable) and the "dressing", which adds almost nothing (few calories or materials) except flavours and aromas. To focus so much on something almost non-existent except for its appreciable quality seems almost spiritual, so I feel like I understand better when in your comment to my earlier post you described tea-drinking as a part of your life philosophy.
I drink tea constantly because it's "the water of cold people", but unfortunately, I have almost no sense of smell, and I think this excludes me from a lot of the finer sensory appreciations in life. Sometimes I wonder if people's varying sensory abilities affect their personalities more than people realize... sometimes I feel like my inability to smell makes me less fussy, in that I don't get the nausea that other people do smelling dirty/unhygienic things. This could lead me to being more down-to-earth OR less discerning/slobby, depending on your viewpoint. Although even I can love a good roasted rice tea.
Tea can be just about adding something to make hot water less boring, to being something spiritual and deeply meaningful. Something, curiosity perhaps, always leads me to seek the deepest level of meaning possible for anything. I look at people who seem to appreciate it on a level higher than me, and I wonder if there is something they get that I don't, or whether they just pretend to get more out of it.
ReplyDeleteThank you for writing this. I enjoyed it. I kept forgetting to say so until now.
ReplyDeleteLately I have been almost exclusively drinking Yorkshire, every morning with breakfast and sometimes in the evening, too. Tonight, however, I dabbled in an old standby: milk oolong.
What are everyone else’s current tea tastes?
Genmaicha, the green tea with roasted rice.
ReplyDeleteLindsay, your constancy to Genmaicha is admirable.
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