2003 Kunming Tailian "Jingmai"

Here's a fun one. I do so enjoy exploring the outer reaches of the pu'ersphere.

The wrapper, shown above, has "Yiban Xinxiang" [one segment, heart-scent], which Lei dismisses as "vulgar teenager-language". A vulgar, cloyingly-sentimental pu'er wrapper, who would have thought...

What else do we know about this mysterious tea? The Kunming Tailian factory literally means "Taiwan ally", which gives us some indication of the factory's purpose. This is fine by me, as I enjoy Taiwanese pu'er as much as any other. Just don't mention "scholar tea" around me and I'll be fine.

*Grinds teeth*.

The factory has since become part of the modern Yibang Chamasi company, that tea producer trading off the reputation of Dynastic pu'er administration centres, but nonetheless the creator of some fun little teas.

The leaves are long, and all manner of colour from silver tips, through green and brown basis leaves, to the inclusion of some yellow leaves (normally removed by producers, but always welcome in my cakes).

The low, sour aroma about the leaves is unusual, a touch of the Jingmai nuttiness about it.

In the wenxiangbei [aroma cup], the "honey" aroma lasts seemingly forever. "Honey" being my shorthand for rugged sweetness combined with a base of broad, lower notes providing the complex sweetness of wild honey.

While I consider the tea, it turns from its initial solid yellow to a deeper orange with surprising rapidity - it is active in contact with the air.

Crikey, it's a thick tea. Thick with copious viscosity. The complexity of the aroma is carried over into the mouth, and this is a chunky, good tea. Entwined with the honey is a challenging, throaty bitterness of the enjoyable variety. Beneath it all, a bedrock of hazelnut flavours that reveal its Jingmai origins.

This tea is as blended in its character as it is in its leaves: some candy, some bitterness, lots of low nuttiness. It all works together, though, and does not give the impression of patchwork. It is a good blend, which is hard to achieve. There's even some tobacco in there, to keep me happy.

A charming tea, I like it very much.

(Cf. Ancient Tea Horse Road.)

1996 Menghai - Purple Dayi

Changing gear on the Menghai front, this 1996 example produced for their Dayi brand comes from Skip4Tea.

This is a mid-to-late 90s cake, and so 1996 is believable. The silver tips (shown above and below) have turned a bright copper, while the basis leaves have become rusty. The compression is relaxing a little, especially around the edges, in line with its supposed age.

The aroma of the dry leaves is noticeable shicang [wet store-house], but in the distant manner that suggests it has been stored in drier conditions in more recent years. I love a bit of shicang, it has to be said, and I don't have very much of it to choose from on my shelves.

The soup moves from deep orange to rich red as the leaves open, with that welcoming aroma of almonds and shicang. It's quite a tea to behold.

Surprisingly energetic in the mouth, it causes instant effervescence on the lips and tongue, followed by a strong cooling sensation. These are striking - by comparison, the flavour takes a back seat. However, the flavour is pleasant: good, old honey.

From two small cups, I have flushed skin and bright eyes. Just recently, I read that historical health claims for pu'er included "improved eyesight", and it is interesting (though perhaps coincidental) that I observed a tangible, sharpening effect when drinking this.

Even from the first infusion, it is thick, and adheres to the roof of the mouth. "The coolness is obvious on my tongue, even if I do not draw air into my mouth!" notes Lei. The whole gamut of sensations ends up nicely in the throat, and dwells there for some time.

Menghai made good tea in 1996.

Is it worth over £200? You decide...

Say goodbye to autumn...

2008 Menghai "Peacock of Mengsong"

Mengwhat?

Mengsong! An appellation unknown to me, it is apparently an area in Menghai County with "plenty of forest cover and misty weather". I fully approve of meteorological data in tea descriptions!

(Note: the "Meng" in "Menghai" and "Mengsong" rhymes with "bung".)

As you can see from the image, this is the blue peacock from the series of five. Menghai Peacock teas have long held their sway over my affections, but these are the first peacock bing that I've come across, and perhaps they are new for 2008.

Look (above and below) at that fine springtime growth. As always, a good blend from tips to basis leaves, occassionally fragmented for similarity of blend throughout. This one has the colour of a traditional Darjeeling, and, like the other teas in this series, carries a mighty aroma. This particular cake has a low sweetness, broad and beany.

The flavour is deliciously fruity, ending in a low complex of leather and tobacco. For what is presumably plantation tea, it's very good. It has solid body, being thick and substantial - a far cry from the waif-like ethereal character of other inexpensive teas. It is young, and has some ku, but it is not overbearing, and adds to the strength of the huigan.

Even the colour of the brew, pictured above, testifies to its low, beany character, being that charming brown-yellow that I love in young shengpu. The bitterness builds in later infusions, but it is accompanied by an increase in tobacco. It's quite a pleasant exercise.

I like this one a little less than the fine "Peacock of Menghai", but it's still jolly good, and I have a few tucked away for the future. Again, so absurdly inexpensive that one really must do quite well in this price range to beat these Menghai benchmarks.

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Addendum
April, 2013

This was the first cake from the now-popular Mengsong region that I ever tried - the above article makes me smile.  Five years later, I am curious to determine its progress.  The wrapper has faded, but the naked bing smells fantastic.  I bought these at around $14/big, and the price for the "peacocks" has not risen greatly since then.

This tea is clearly aged: it is smooth, rounded, and beginning to take on the woody characteristics of age.  The "big" Mengsong scent fills the wenxiangbei [aroma cup], and its colour is now a definite orange, where once it was yellow.  Some kuwei [good bitterness] remains, but there is a triumphant sweetness that builds in the throat.

It is clearly plantation tea, but it is very good nonetheless - such is the Dayi genius.  I love its bitter-sweet character.  Not "dry storage", nor "humid storage", but somewhere between.