Sunshine Stops

 

sunshine stops

on dusty temple rooves

and carsmoke

2011 Yunzhiyuan "Mangzhi Autumn"

This is one of three of the Yunnan Sourcing autumnal range which I enjoyed so much that I bought.  This has become quite a rare event, given the limited space available on my shelves...

"Autumn Mangzhi" in Scott's handwriting

Mangzhishan is in the popular, oft-mentioned Mengla County of south-eastern Xishuangbanna, and yet you don't often see Mangzhi as being accredited in single-mountain cakes.  One of the only examples I have tried was very recently the 2005 Yichanghao version.  The latter was quite "orange", and therefore did not allow me to gain any insight of the characteristics of this mountain.  Hopes remain for Scott's version, due to his preference for largely raw, lightly-processed shengpu.

A robust blend makes me happy

The blend is, shall we say, "rugged".  It contains everything from tips to substantial sections of twig and branch.  This is fine by me, because I like a little brusqueness in my pu'ercha.  Not for me, the one-dimensional nature of tippy "high grade" (i.e., tiny-leaf) pu'ercha.

The maocha has a noteworthy aroma of fruitiness, which is strong despite the cold winter climate that traditionally mutes all scents in my tealeaves.

Darkening to this orange occurs only after contact with air

My hopes for an honest, "lightly processed" cake remain after seeing the pure yellow colour of the soup, which darkens actively in the air.  The first infusion is an excellent combination of heavy tobacco and purple fruits, delivered by a thick body.  While the complex characteristics of young pu'ercha can fade after the first few infusions (and are typically one of the first aspects of the cake to disappear during aging), this tea remains decent throughout the session.

"Guhua" indicating autumnal leaves

Even after considerable brewing, the leaves remain rich and low in their flavour.  This may have benefitted from me using a considerable quantity of leaves: autumn tea is not as punchy as its springtime equivalent, which allows me to fill the pot, resulting in a thicker body than one might otherwise expect.

Amusingly, I note after drinking this cake that Mangzhi is close to both Xikong and Yibang villages, north of Yiwu, both of which are areas that make rich, challenging tea that I have enjoyed in the past.  Perhaps it is no surprise, then, that neighbouring Mangzhishan should prove so pleasing to me.

1970s Tongqinghao

Today's article is an oddity, because it represents a whole series of tea sessions, the focal point of which was this 1970s Tongqinghao.  The article exists really as a testament to the generosity of my long-time teachum from Hong Kong, KC.

Tongqing was a famous teahouse during the 18th century, so they say.  There is, unsurprisingly, a modern brand trading under the same name.  However, this modern brand is really quite modern, being founded within the last decade or so, and so we are left with the mystery as to the exact identity of this cake.

The photograph above reminds me of the charming, long, winding nature of these old leaves.  They bring back to mind the scent of age.  The leaves are, more or less, the same age as the drinker.  (Perhaps more - but not by too much!)

Packed full of smooth, powdery, granular characteristics, this Tongqinghao cake, whatever its origin, has resulted in many happy sessions.  These periods typically start at home, at the tea-table, and then the used leaves accompany me to my lab for brewing in the background, where I appreciate them over long hours.

So, to Mr. KC I send my most grateful thanks for a tea that has been treasured.

It is worthwhile recalling that Tongqinghao and Tongxinghao are different enterprises, although both are brands that have ancient and modern counterparts.