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Picked this up from the co-op a while back. It was much cheaper per pound there than through Rishi. Yay high turnover bulk.

Gone grandpa, 1 tsp, 10oz ceramic coffee mug, 195F, 2 top-offs.

The dry leaf scent resembles a young, non-boozy cabernet. I pick up on red fruit, green bell pepper and woody vanilla. The liquor smells mostly like baked cherries and honey with a dash of cocoa.

The taste is more complex. It seems like a medley of malty dark cherry pie and a flakey apricot and blood orange pastry with large sugar crystals sprinkled on top. The most prominent notes are honey, baked cherry and rose. Other, non-dominant tastes include a swirl of wet wood, musty autumn leaves, red plum, green bell pepper, golden syrup, violet, black licorice, cacao, vanilla, black pepper without the spicy bite and mineral. Mouthfeel is pretty light and later quite drying especially at the back of the throat and uvula, making for an awkward swallow. Aftertaste lingers early on before the astringency takes over.

This is a very tasty tea. Compared to previous brews western style, I pick up more flavor complexity with grandpa style. However, due to the astringency in the throat, I think it’s better-suited for western.. In general, it does lack the fuller, thicker mouthfeel that I appreciate, though that makes it good for a light daily drinker. I’ll have to try it out in a gaiwan.

I’m writing another review to note the smell of the dry leaf and the addition of flavors when brewed grandpa-style in a basic white ceramic coffee mug as opposed to the previous review where I brewed the tea in a glass with the same amount of leaf and water.

The dry leaf smells like light cocoa and sugar cookie with a faint whiff of ceylon cinnamon and lemon zest. These rest on top of an unplaced green vegetal base (edamame?).

In addition to the previous tasting notes, this time the liquor became sweeter, with a more noticeable thickness in the mouth and slickness on the tongue. Seaweed, leeks and clear chicken broth made a strong presence with some butter in the back of the mouth. Brewed in a ceramic mug, my enjoyment of the tea increased. It is really pleasant. Increased rating.

Trying not to turn this into a blog or muddy what I and some of you are ultimately here for – tea reviews – but I JUST CAN’T HELP IT. This Da Hong Pao is my side piece and it’s nagging at me. I’ve had Prince’s ‘U Got the Look’ in my head for days.

The Bay Area had a 4.4 magnitude earthquake in January. Nothing crazy but since then, chunks of grout in the shower began falling out. I can now feel every single bus and truck driving by. The pots on top of the refrigerator rattle if I don’t place them just right. Each passing multi-ton people-and-things-mover brings the long slow rumble that marked the beginning of that earthquake. Two earth-shattering jolts made this fearless woman grip the sheets in a rush of terror. That’s how you know you’re alive. This old building shakes like a skeleton… rattle them bones. Somewhere I hear a knowing laugh. The grim reaper leaves nothing behind. City neva stops. Nothing ever stops. Some things just leave a bigger impression after passing through.

Holy crap this is a complex and dynamic tea. It’s past 3am and I should probably go to bed. Long and detailed review after I rest this vessel.

—

Some time later…

I tried typing a detailed review but I guess I wasn’t feeling it. Here, again, I fail at providing a completely subjectively objective review.

I wrote notes of the dry, warmed and rinsed leaf, as well as leaf aroma, liquor aroma and taste for each steep but I think this tea just needs to be experienced and for you to lose yourself in it. It instantly commanded my attention and I was sunk into a session for over three hours if that gives you a generalized view of what to expect. This isn’t an everyday tea. It’s intimate.

The leaf, aroma and liquor play a deep, dark dance with a wonderful roast, various forms of chocolate, the most vibrant raspberry I’ve ever tasted, blackberry, plums and currants of all colors, minerals, various nuts both raw and roasted, sweetness ranging from honey to burnt sugar to caramel, florals like orchid, violet and lily of the valley, different grains notably roasted barley, a rye spiciness, some coffee and char, dandelion greens, lettuce, dried cilantro, sage and wood. These were all just the most apparent. There are many fleeting nuances.

The mouthfeel ranges from sweet to thick and velvety, highly mineral but never biting, lightly bitter to astringent and drying. The aroma, tastes and mouthfeel linger…long. They are dynamic and pronounced yet it seems like they are willing to make room for each successive steep.

The energy I experienced was dark yet vibrant, intense yet calm, intuitive, open, introspective. I’d like to have a session in the evening with a few good friends (or anybody, really). The ones you only get to see when events align, the physical distance closes and every time you reunite, you pick right back up. The silken thread between you never breaks. I felt strong, aware and assertive. I wanted to bare my soul. There was expansiveness and closeness, accommodation and acceptance, like there’s room for more under this big red velvet robe.

So, yeah. Whew. Powerful stuff. I’m excited to see what a few more years’ age will do.

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The next day I simmered the spent leaves for 5 to 10 minutes. Ambrosia.

I haven’t drank any osmanthus tea for comparison over the past day, but I can say this Jin Mu Dan isn’t for me after another brew today. Too finicky – I sometimes edge the line of abuse with tea (theme song ‘Push It’ by Salt-N-Pepa). It could often be called forgetfulness or neglect. I suppose it’s all part of the flow. For the fragrant yellow floral nose, it’s missing a longevity in brightness of the sour yellow fruit taste, as well as any pronounced sweetness. The mineral tastes muddy, lacking any distinctive quality. Flat mouthfeel. No noticeable energy. I read a review this weekend by Daylon R Thomas for an entirely different tea, about tasting colors. I’d say this tea tastes dull yellow and grey/brown. Stomped on flower petals.

The roast of the dry leaf, dark and sweet at this time, and the aroma of the liquor are its highlights. This would be a good tea for somebody who has a delicate hand and is interested in perfecting brewing technique.

To the back of the drawer it goes. Maybe either the tea will change or my tastes will by the time we meet again.

Something about this tea makes me want to ramble.

Spent yesterday late afternoon wandering Golden Gate Park, stopping at Hippie Hill to listen to the drum circle. I laid on the grass and let the music wash over me. It took a while but the percussionists finally got into their groove after some thick clouds of pot smoke emerged from the group. The cool breeze from the Pacific came in short bursts that would trail off and the grass danced, glistening, seemingly in tune with the drums. It was magical, I felt quite high riding the wind and the music. Sucker for cheap thrills I guess.

We later wandered through my old neighborhood and being hungry beyond the point of deciding what to eat, we stopped in the closest Indian restaurant. It smelled weird upon entering. Noped out of there graciously after having our water glasses filled and said sorry, we’ll have to come back another time. That’s one of my city-living life lessons: never eat at a restaurant that smells off. We then stopped at an American Chinese restaurant I used to like because it was right there, no decision to be made in our state. Got a cheap pot of Tie Guan Yin because I’m pretty over restaurant jasmine green tea. Picked the wrong dish to go with my mood and the tea. Spicy Peking noodles. I ended up getting sick last night with a very upset stomach and a raging headache before we even got home from dinner. Guessing too much salt and oil as I’m a spice fiend.

So I rummaged through my tea drawer searching for a glass of comfort, one hand in the drawer, the other holding my heavy, throbbing skull. Found an unmarked tin and upon opening, I instantly knew it was this tea. I thought I drank it all. It was very comforting and calming brewed in a gaiwan but I only had enough tea and energy for a modest grandfatherly brew.

The liquor was so roasty, smooth, sweet and light with a little creaminess. The berry/prune note in this was sooo dark and thick and sweet. Liquid medicine to soothe the soul.

After 3 ibuprofen and a few cups of this in some dim light, I could finally get comfortable on the couch.

I’m not really sure what’s going on here. There’s a new floral here I’m unfamiliar with which is throwing me off. Is it osmanthus? I’ve never had an osmanthus tea. It’s definitely a ‘yellow flower’ tea in flavor and fragrance, like yellow rose, dandelion and some bitter marigold. Kind of fruity taste in the beginning like unripe pineapple and yellow passionfruit. Light but long-lasting. Flat mineral in the mouth, flatness in feel – nothing special there. This is a frangrance-forward tea. Finicky, seems to need lower temp and if oversteeped it can be bitey in the throat. Dry leaf has a pleasant roast and smells darker than the liquor tastes. I’ll have to play around some more with this tea including leaf amount. Maybe pick up some osmanthus tea in the meantime.

EDIT: Reminds me of Huang Guan Yin which I didn’t care for. I’m willing to try a more focused tasting of this particular tea because it seems more complex than the few HGY I’ve tried. Yunnan Sourcing says this is a hybrid of Tie Guan Yin and Huang Jin Gui. I looked up some info on Huang Guan Yin and that is also a cross of TGY and HJG. Now I’m assuming this Jin Mu Dan and Huang Guan Yin are the same? Confused. I found also that yes, this type of tea has osmanthus notes. I’m not crazy.

It’s hot today by San Francisco standards. No air conditioning nor insulation in a 1906 building. I’m on the top floor and am blocking the western sun with curtains closed. I need something bright and refreshing.

I’ve brewed this tea western every time. 2-3 tsp (length and shape makes for difficult measurement), 8oz, 160F. I’ve played around with steeping times, with first steeps ranging from 30-60s. Good for 3 steeps, maybe 4 if you like to push it and like saltiness.

Dry leaf is a nice mix of lightly rolled dark green leaves and buds with a yellow-brown tint. They have the darjeeling pungency with kind of an orange zest quality but not quite. There is a sweetness there, too, like a citrus blossum, hints of green olive and desert earth. Subtle.

The liquor itself is delicate in color, aroma, and taste. It has a very clear, light yellow body, darkening slightly throughout the steeps. The aroma is mostly present when pouring from one glass into another. I pick up light lemon zest, lemon blossom, bright meaty vegetal. I can put a name to the bright, meaty vegetal once I take a few sips of the glassy liquor: fresh castelvetrano olives. The best olives in the world. If you like olives, I suggest you try them but don’t buy them canned. The dominating taste, though, isn’t olives but rather a light lemon/lime sprinkled with a little bit of powdered sugar, some mineral and complementary bitterness of citrus pith (this isn’t a bitter tea by any means). A pleasant sour saltiness persists long after I’ve drank all three steepings and my tongue is dancing and bright. The spent leaves and buds are whole and healthy, well cared for. Everything about this clean and delicate tea makes me happy and feeling refreshed.

Dare I say it’s like drinking soft sunshine?

As I near the end of a 25g envelope of this tea, I realize it has grown on me immensely. What-Cha continues to introduce me to a variety of teas I’d likely never find in stores or even tea shops. This is my first darjeeling green tea and first from the Rohini Tea Estate. I bought this tea with no expectations and I would love to have more.

Side note: I brewed a glass of this for my partner, too. He’s a coffee and Trader Joe’s Irish Breakfast drinker during the work-week but on the weekends or when he’s hungover (which was today :P), I brew him various green teas. You know, something light, but I have this ulterior motive to get him off coffee because he turns into a trainwreck in the evenings. After drinking this tea, he said, “Now I know why you’re so into this. The quality is so much better than bagged teas. More please.” His full conversion is coming. Soon.

What-Cha describes this as “A most unusual tea…” I can’t help but think he’s being cheeky.

I brewed 2 cups of this late last night, thinking “Hey, GABA tea.” Well, it turns out it has the typical caffeine content of Red Jade blacks: feckin HIGH. It was late and I wasn’t doing anything with all that unused energy so I decided to go to bed. I ended up getting a lot of anxiety lying there so I took a few diphenhydramines to knock my ass out. Sipper beware.

Moving on. Finished last night’s brew this morning. Gone western. 1 tsp, 8oz, 195F, 3/4/6/? minutes. ?minutes isn’t worth it. I don’t think I’ll try brewing this tea any method other than western.

April 2017 harvest. Dry nuggets are large and smell really good, like overripe strawberries. After the first steep, the wet leaf had minimal funk but past that was roasted sweet potato and later steeps moved to roasted acorn squash.

First steep produced a cup smelling and tasting of funk but that quickly turned into tang (rhubarb?) and sweet potato. Later steeps saw the funk disappear, the tang lighten, the sweet potato developed a roast and turned into roasted acorn squash both in aroma and taste. Noticed a coolness in the mouth on exhale but no minty taste. The liquor was smooth and developed some slickness and dryness. It started off a beautiful shade of pinkish champagne with a tinge of orange and turned progressively clear orange-brown.

The spent leaf is very large and not in the best shape. One leaf was 7cm wide. Couldn’t help measuring it.

For me, this is a morning tea to have with a big breakfast before going out to chainsaw fire lines all day or a tea to carry cold in a thermos on a long, exhausting hike.

I’m a big fan of Red Jade blacks and whites and would rather stick to those. This is certainly “a most unusual tea.”

This tea is a partial embodiment of the Central Valley in California.

I recommend brewing this western. The concentration of flavor and color sits at the bottom of the cup so I don’t think it’s well suited for grandpa. The leaves are spindly and clump together so it’s difficult to get the recommended 2tsp. Rather, I just line the bottom of my glass with a thin layer. 195-200F, 8oz, 3/5/7 min. Definitely don’t go above 200F or you’ll be lashed with drying astringency.

March 2018 harvest. The dry leaf, as stated, is spindly and clumpy, dark brown with a good amount of orange-gold needles. Visually appealing. It smells like roasted almonds with a decent amount of pungency including an odd green vinegary pickle.

The liquor is clear, bright, roasty and slightly earthy both in aroma and taste. In the mouth I get orange, apricot, honey-roasted/toffee almonds, hot leather, hot dry oatgrass and earth, and walnut and oak woodiness with their accompanying tannins. The mouthfeel is soft yet drying. The astringency is strongest in the second steep. Spent leaves and needles are pretty small and healthy.

If you’re not a fan of astringency, this may not be a good tea for you. I, however, would like to make this my daily afternoon drinker for the hot months.

This isn’t tea. This is a plucking to please some dolts that don’t care about ripping beautiful buds from their parent bushes.

PINEY, CITRUSY HOPS. One note. If you find any other flavors or aromas, congrats?

If you’re a fan of IPA beers but can’t drink before or during work, this bud’s for you. If you’re that hard-pressed, you could even try carbonating it.

It does taste good cold-brewed with fresh basil. Because basil. That’s how I’m getting rid of this. Slamming a liter as soon as I wake up.

This makes me sound snobby but it’s really all tongue-in-cheek. Needless to say, I’m not a fan but others who like really light teas and some piney, citrusy sweetness might enjoy this. Re-brews forever. You can go as far as the buds almost falling apart.