2008 Xiaguan - FT "Duling Fengsao"

I wrote previously about a resurgent Xiaguan, and this is a good example from their now-excellent FT (Feitai) brand. I suspect FT now has less to do with making gangsters in Taiwan happy, and more to do with demonstrating the Xiaguan premier teas.

"Duling fengsao" is "alone-leading literary elegance", which does have overtones of the dreaded "scholar tea".

Gnngrnngh.

The bing is iron-compressed. This being Xiaguan, I was expecting the compression on their tiebing to be exceedingly brutal, but, while it is thin (see below), it is quite easily separated.

If you are, like me, a fan of Baoyan bricks, then this tea is The One For You. It is based on the Baoyan recipe, but uses good-quality leaves. If there is anything to be said against the charm of the lovely Baoyan brick, it is that they're a bit rough - though the ruggedness is undoubtedly part of their charm.

The leaves give the game away: dark and sweet, they have the precise aroma of Baoyan leaves. This makes me happy. Since moving into our new house, a cat from the neighbourhood appears to have adopted Lei and I as new servants. He waits for me when I return in the evening, and watches me put away my bicycle, while mewing loudly, then sits by the door ahead of me with an expectant look on his face.

Pictured below, His Royal Fatness perched on a makeshift bed that we have set up for him, consisting of a pink rug on a chair. He likes to watch me drink tea, and purrs for hours on end. We have named him "Heidu" [black belly], or, on occasion, "fatman" or "your chunkiness". His rug/chair arrangement has been dubbed "The Palais de Fat".

The soup is, just like Baoyan, yellow-orange. Just like Baoyan, it is a dark and flavoursome brew - and yet, against all the odds, it appears quite well-named: it is elegant, being gradual and charming. With all the flavour and character of Baoyan, it delivers it slowly and gracefully - rather than the brusque rollercoaster of the Tibetan bricks.

I love it. The Baoyan darkness is balanced against a fine ku in the finish, and it has plenty to reveal. It pays to be restrained in the quantity of leaves used for brewing.

Top stuff - thumbs up, Xiaguan.

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Addendum
March, 2013

The price of these Xiaguan cakes has tripled, which is quite surprising, in comparison to the other basic 2008 Dayi cakes that I have been retasting of late.

My main concern with Duling Fengsao was that it has been significantly "darkened" in the modern Xiaguan manner, reminiscent of high-quality Baoyan (if such a thing can be said to exist).  Will such a genre of pu'ercha age properly?

This cake seems as fragrant today as it did in 2008, when I first bought it.  I have two of these cakes, perhaps more as an experiment than anything else.

The cakes were actually untouched, which leads me to the surprising conclusion that I probably bought these cakes without trying them first - it is hard to imagine me doing so today.

Despite the high compression, this tiebing [iron cake] separates out into its constituent leaves fairly easily.

The leaves did not start off as "green" as the Dayi cakes with which I have compared this, but nonetheless have darkened substantially.

Its fragrance remains decidedly "black", and the modern Xiaguan processing seems rather more "baked" to my nose than it did back in 2008.  I wonder if the mystery processing step involves heat, and lots of it.

As with my Dayi cakes, this Xiaguan cake has converted much of its original, brassy kuwei [good bitterness] into heightened sweetness.  This cake is now surprisingly sweet!

The Baoyan processing remains, but is now an interesting counterpoint to the central, penetrating sweetness.  The body is solid, and it feels well-made.  The cereal base of Xiaguan leaves is an old favourite of mine.

 

Delicious, and highly encouraging.  I conclude that even Xiaguan "blackness" can age well, given a good start and good leaves.