Mo Shoops

When I was growing up, I was repeatedly advised (by school, relatives, strange cloaked Wotan-style wanderers slumped over a gnarled staff) to not become an academic, under any circumstances.  The careers of lawyer, architect, backing singer in a Japanese punk band - any of these is preferable to being an academic, went the Received Wisdom.

Being an academic, the chorus of guidance went, is a sure-fire way of (i) wearing cardigans before the age of forty; (ii) ending up in a state of penury; and (iii) smelling of mothballs and slightly suspicious ammonia-based fluids of a masculine persuasion.

I am here, Gentle Reader, to tell you that (i) I have always loved cardigans, and now somehow I have accidentally become temporarily cool, thanks to recent incarnations of Dr. Who* and a generation of British indie bands; (ii) while not exactly a license to print money, some branches of academia are apparently able to avoid destitution; and (iii) academics actually smell of old books, not urine, and old books smell like Gandalf.  What's Gandalf?  Gandalf's cool, that's what.

*Interestingly, my nickname among the undergraduates appears to be "Dr. Who".  The origin of this moniker is, I have discovered, due to my dress sense.  I was under the impression for the longest time that my nickname was actually "Dr. Hu", referring to my rule of iron discipline, like an Asian police state.

There are perks to being an academic, entirely apart from the ability to wear brightly-coloured cardigans, odd socks, and the occasional bow tie at dinner.  Some of these are intangible: they include, strangely, breakfasts served in the oak-clad darkness of ancient buildings that seem to benefit from the cathartic, healing scent of bacon and black pudding.  Others are more tangible: we have a post-doc from Malaysia who brings me back whopping great big stacks of tea from his homeland when he visits home.

The cake shown in the first half of this article is an awesome example of this generosity: a 2012 cake of shupu from an outfit named "Aomen Hualian".  The name refers to Macao ("Aomen"), and where "hualian" is a connection to (Mainland) China - a suffix often used in association with the various islands / provinces / independent nations [delete as appropriate] that exist around the coast of the PRC.

This cake is only the second that I have ever finished.

I am just going to let that fact sit there for a little while, and marvel in it.  I have only ever finished two cakes of pu'ercha.  The first was something from white2tea, and was, I think, another fantastic shupu.

This Aomen Hualian cake is probably not going to be too easy to find.  However, should you ever come across it, I emplore you to remember this article: buy this tea.  It is rocking, thick, brutal, strong, fat, calorific, and all-round-fine.  I had a period after Christmas this year in which I was encased in my office, working on a long EU grant proposal - this Aomen Hualian cake propped me up, slapped me in the face, and promptly punched me in a sensitive place that I really would have preferred not to have punched.  I can heartily recommend this cake.

---

Speaking of chugworthy shoopmasters, we now turn our attention to something from the Augean Stables of white2tea: no matter how much you think you've cleaned 'em out, they just keep on giving.

I am reasonably certain that through various channels, Gentle Reader, you will have probably heard the Gospel concerning this mighty little 1998 "white wrapper" tuocha.  Just in case you have recently arisen from a long hibernation beyond the grave, I here recount some brief notes to convince you that we have on our hands (yet another) good, random purchase from w2t.

I say "purchase", but, as you might conclude from the above, the tuocha in this article was received gratis and for nothing, by an unknown correspondent whom seems to know / be related to / be married to / be in indentured servitude to Paul, a.k.a. twodog2 of w2t.  As is often the case with some of the finest dealers of narcotics, the first hit is always free.

Then, the Jonesing begins.

And how, the Jonesing!  This is strong.  In fact, my diary appears to have "The tea is extraordinary."  It is thick, creamy, sweet, and obviously excellent.  This is a good tea to buy in quantity.  Amusingly, the tong of tuocha eventually come wrapped in some REALLY RUSTY wire, which is surely a good sign.  You can't buy risky fun like that.

Well, actually, you can - at about $55 / tube, which is a very fair price for brilliant shoops that might give you tetanus.  You just can't go wrong.

Addendum: it seems that I have already written about this tea!  I'm glad to see that I agree with myself.

The shupu fades after the 8th infusion, but is otherwise fantastic.  The creamy, well-rounded sweetness remains even after the body has faded.  It is a delightful tea, and a fine introduction to this week's haiga...

---

Cup of Cold Tea

cup of cold tea

returned to the teapot

after storytime