Jim Marks Send Message

(Realized I had this on the organic, but my package doesn’t indicate mine is organic, so I’m moving the rating over here where it belongs)

When we lived in Chicago and I had ready access to the Tea Gschwendner retail shop, I got into the habit of drinking a lot of bai mu dan. Their premium Edmond’s Collection featured a truly magical pair of white teas, one of which had leaves so untampered with from growth on the plant to steeping in the cup, so whole, so intact, so unshriveled, that you could barely get 100 grams of them in a full sized tin that would easily hold a kilo of flour. These teas were shockingly perfect to drink on brutally cold days, and on the very rare occasions that I allowed myself to indulge in a criminally over-priced to-go cup from the TG shop, it was always in bad weather, and it was always these white teas I went for.

But I’m not reviewing those teas, here. I’m reviewing a tea from TeaVivre. So why did I bring all that up?

We have a tendency to think of white teas as light, floral, sweet, fruity and the kind of thing you’d want to drink iced on a hot day. But in my experience, peony/bai mu dan style white teas are quite the opposite, and this one from TeaVivre is no exception. Notes of fresh hay, autumnal leaves, roasted squash and sun warmed cabin wood.

Exactly the kind of thing to warm you up on a brisk, winter’s day.

This leaf in particular is soft, almost buttery but not at all sweet. There is a suggestion of astringency at the finish that warns you to never, ever over steep this tea. Given that this is nearly 1/10th the price of what TG would charge for a similar leaf, this is fantastic value for money.

Except that right now in Houston it is 80 degrees, humid and we’re having an apocalyptic mosquito infestation.

Not the tea’s fault at all, though.

I have been drinking a lot of golden Yunnan lately, so I’m having to let my tongue adjust a bit, here.

And yet, perhaps not as much as you might think.

I would describe this as a more subtle, more gentle golden Yunnan. Very similar notes of roasted fruit, citrus zest, caramel and molasses… just less so. A much more gentle way of easing into one’s morning than a full bodied Yunnan would be. Or a great way to settle into a quiet evening’s repose, perhaps.

The third cup is showing a bit of fade. A perfectly good cup, but it suggests I should not go for a fourth.

And this has always been my gripe with the tuocha teas. When I buy pu-erh that’s loose, I can frequently get upwards of a dozen steeps out of it, but tuochas rarely get past three.

The second steeping has lost that glimmer of sweetness.

But let’s face it, as much as such a thing is an unexpected and enjoyable quirk in a pu-erh, you aren’t exactly going to fault the cup when it isn’t there, are you?

This cup is just as dark and full flavored, just a bit more peaty and less molasses.

You know, a cup of pu-erh.

Full disclosure: This review is based on a free sample provided to me by the distributor. If you suspect me of being the sort of person who can be bribed with free tea, now would be the time to disregard my opinions.

For a start, these are the most perfect looking tuocha I’ve ever seen. Perfect half spheres with a dimple, expertly wrapped in moisture wicking fabric paper. If you are into the aesthetics of your tea drinking, these are well worth looking at.

There is an enticing and unexpected sweetness to the smell of the dry leaf.

I’m always amazed at how quickly pu-erh steeps. 90 seconds and I have a cup that looks like coffee. Regular readers will know that I don’t go in for this business of “rinsing” pu erh teas. Given how fast it steeps it just seems to me like you’re throwing away the first good cup in the name of tradition.

The aroma off the cup is a reassuring swirling of damp soil, cave rock and rainy days.

But the flavor on the tongue brings that unexpected hint of sweetness again. Like someone was storing barrels of molasses in that cave, or perhaps the paper wrappers for the tuocha had been painted with caramel. But don’t worry. This isn’t like drinking vanilla strawberry roiboos or something. This is a soft, round, hint of a suggestion. Not even a wink and a nod, more like a knowing glance, at sweetness.

I tend to find the second and third steepings of a pu-erh to be the best, so I’ll be getting back to you shortly, I suspect.

OK, a little experimenting.

If you radically shorten the steep time and try not to breathe in while pouring the tea off the leaves, the floral bouquet is actually not all that strong. Most of it seems to end up as odor during the steeping procedure, after which point it becomes fairly subtle.

The second steeping, with just a bit more time, is even less offensive.

Maybe I need to take a whole second look at hand rolled, green, scented oolongs.

Nah.

Even after a few months in a metal tin, being opened and closed every few days, this tea is still holding up very well. One has to be very careful not to over steep, but when the temperature and timing are right you get a wonderfully soft, round, almost buttery cup.

This is better on the second steeping. Those sharp, bright green notes soften up quite a bit, and the resulting cup is mellow, round and not at all floral. I’m still not getting this sense of Earth that so many others have, but given how much Yunnan golden and pu-erh I drink, my idea of “earthy” may simply be a lot further down the spectrum than others’.

I think if my leaves were fresher, or this were a higher quality tea over all, this would have that slightly thick, sticky, brothy kind of mouth feel that marks truly excellent lighter teas such as this one, but because of where and how my leaves were sourced I cannot make any statement about whether this tea was one that good or no.

I’m not getting the earthy notes other reviewers got. Maybe I need to use cooler water.

I am getting bright, sharp green and just a hint of hay. There is more than a bit of a floral bouquet to this, as well.

Oh dear.

Rolled oolongs, you torture me.

You never smell floral when you’re being all coy, dry, rolled up and green.

But the minute hot water hits you, and enormous bouquets of flowery evil assault me.

What am I going to do with all this tea, now?