Chiptunes + Shoops

The Easter Vac.  It is a sacred time.  Not least because my college has, it being the end of term, wound down.  This means two things: (i) all the academics get to focus on sweet, delicious research; and (ii) I have the time to combat a Dark Breakfast every day, followed by a remedial diet of chiptunes + shoops (i.e., shupu) upon hitting my lab shortly thereafter.  

Bacon followed by shoops is the only way to fly, I have concluded.

Knackered 2003 Fenqing wrappers

As if picking up the psychic vibrations of the times, my homes from back home, Mr. TG, sent an e-mail to tempt me with some large doses of the aforementioned shoops + some shengpu.

As Oscar Wilde once said, "I can resist anything except temptation."

This is, in fact, a 2003 cake made by an outfit called Xiangzhuqing Tea Co.

TG (pronounced "TEEDJ") noted that this used to be available via the mighty bushido-laden Bannacha, but that it is now out of stock, and that I suck.  It seems that TEEDJ himself purchased his cake from Chawangshop, but, again, I cannot seem to find it listed there, and, again, I suck.

"Like, whatever", I thought to myself, in my native Valleygirl accent.  I busted out the sample from TEEDJ, which, pictured above, rather reminds me of my day job, in which we sometimes have to extract samples of tuberculosis DNA from the most antisocial of patient byproducts.  Say no more.  I count my blessings that I'm only exposed to the data, rather than the... original material.

Apart from looking like pestilent faecal matter, then, the 2003 Fengqing cake is allegedly "old tree".  Again, this causes my inner Valleygirl to start with the "whatevers", because why in the sweet bowels of Hades would you make shoops out of good laoshu leaves?  You wouldn't, of course.  If you think you're drinking "old tree" shoops, then the chances are quite reasonable that you're not, and that you're gullible, and that, like me, you suck just a little bit.

Edit: this isn't shupu, my notes are incorrect - it is shengpu, and the suction is all mine.

I've never brewed human excrement laden with infectious disease-carrying bacteria, but I suspect that this huangpian-infested, red-tinged leaf is not a million miles away from the charms that we might anticipate from such an experiment.

That is not to say that it's bad, far from it: what we have here is merely rather "rustic", let's say.  It is a Lincang cake, and it is smooth, and rather cooling.  I dig mightily on its sweet and mouth-watering satisfaction.  If it started out "red", which I suspect, then it has nonetheless managed to retain some its oomph, 12 years later.  The background is malted redness, and there is some Lincang grainlike sweetness in it - the impression is one of "decent minor-label artisan cake".  It is not the world's most complex tea, but it has much to recommend it, in its well-balanced way.  If inexpensive, it might be worth a look, although I cannot find its price due to the aforementioned negative pressure gradient that surrounds me.

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Enough of the pussyfooting around: it's time drink dirty shoops.

The tiny wee picture above tells us that this is really rather dirty, in that sub-CNNP manner.  Thrills indeed!  This 200g brick will set you back a staggering twenty American bucks via Awazon.  It's cheap, it's nasty, it's just what I needed.

Let's do this.

Did you ever have a tea so rancid that all of the thick, greasy Chinese hair that was embedded in the leaves voluntarily got up and left, because it was too nasty even for thick, greasy Chinese hair to tolerate?  This brick is exactly like that.

Pictured below, we have some sort of... I'm going to say "webbing" embedded in the mixture.  Would you believe that it smells like rank heicha from Hunan?  You would?  Well, it does.  It has the scent of nasty tobacco, just like Hunan bricks of deadliness.  I'm just going to point out the epidemiological fact that this area of China has some pretty serious throat diseases - moreso than any other region.  I can hit you up with some project publications on that if you wish to see the data.

Now, I'm not suggesting that there is a causal link between drinking TEA THAT COMES FROM THE COLON OF SATAN and illness, but I'm going to leave the idea in the back of your mind.

The photograph below rather summarises my opinion of this tea.

It is dark, it is thick, and it is very (very) dirty.  TEEDJ notes that it "responds well to filling the gaiwan with leaf", and so I went heavy with the quantity.  I was rewarded with a very strong, knock-out dose of surprisingly sharp shoops.  It is so very smooth and so very powderlike that I fall instantly in love.

My current lab tipple is WUZIDENGKE from Menghai, which is amazing.  I have tins and tins and tins of this stuff sitting in my lab, thanks to Dubs.  Given that its name means (approx.) "five sons pass Imperial exams", this makes it a fantastic gift for academic colleagues, all of whom seem to get muchos chortles out of the name.  However, so thick and nasty is the CNNP brick from Awazon, that I am considering changing gear from time to time.  

I'm just not sure my white blood cells are up to the job.

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SK LFG

SK LFG

WTB DL TP

1G PST