Germany. Land of the bratwurst, the bierfest, brilliant words such as "der Durchfall", and to my erstwhile teachum, Herr Dr. Kim, who continues to spoil Lei, Xiaohu, and I with Christmas packages of delicious stollen. Burp.
Ever generous, the good doctor hacked away a chunk of this rather interesting "Blue Label" cake that he had recently bought from Taobao. I have visited it on several occasions, and so it is high time that I put electrons to paper and write about it.
While it may look something not entirely dissimilar to a semi-circular turd (pictured above), the constituent leaves are chunky indeed:
The aroma smacks you around the chops, and promises that, despite three hours of sleep (due to a teething son), some semblance of consciousness is but a cup away.
It is a strong, shicang aroma of wet books, and I love it dearly. Spicy. Humid. Rancid. Delicious.
I enjoy this tea's decidedly mineral-like qualities, and its entire character is of sharp, spiced wood. I am reminded of orange peel, tamarind, and the spices that one might use to mull wine at Christmas. In the midst of it all, a core of sweetness that seems in no hurry to disappear after the swallow.
As with most older teas, I am generous with the number of leaves in the pot - I find that it is hard to overbrew old pu'ercha, and the risk of underbrewing is more significant than with deadly, younger leaves. This lends the soup a certain thickness, and a smoothness that adheres to the lips. My tongue feels noticeably, remarkably cooler after two infusions.
Thanks again, Dr.Kim - this tea is all warmth and comfort. Both of these are qualities that a tired father welcomes in abundance.