Leaving Maliandao

leaving Maliandao

sitting on taxi roof

wide-eyed sparrow

2011 Yunzhiyuan "Xikong Autumn"

Setting aside my calligraphy brush, Zen sutra, SLR, poetry-book, tetsubin, and guqin, I thought it high time that I try the 2011 version of an autumnal cake that really rustled my proverbial jimmies during 2010.

The 2010 version was really very good, and I wrote about it.  Before my lazy / busy self finally got round to returning to the Yunnan Sourcing web-pages, they sold out.  

The jimmies, they were a-rustlin'.

I solved this problem by whining like a schoolgirl to Scott, the proprietor.  He kindly sold me some that he'd set aside for his web-site about to debut in the colonies, although the price had substantially risen as a consequence.  Nonetheless, I had to have them.  The Xikong was my precious.

The destroyer will come in one of the pre-chosen forms

You are undoubtedly familiar with the old proverb: "rustle my jimmies once, shame on you; rustle my jimmies twice, shame on me."  

Being distinctly averse to jimmie-rustling in (almost) all its forms, I got a jump on the game this time around, and resolved to be less lazy about buying cakes if they turned out to be good.

I continue to bleat about this tea

So, forgive me this once, but I have tried this cake many times, and actually got around to buying it.  Xikongzhai [shee kong djai] lives between Manzhuan and Yibang, in Mengla County, which explains the common characteristics shared, to various degrees, by the cakes from these areas.  If you're of a mind to examine this for yourself, Scott sells cakes from each region.

Rustic

The greater Yibang region is famed for its small leaves [xiaoye], and the above images give an indication of the extent of their xiaoness.  Happily, the blend includes plenty of tips and base-leaves alike, which can only help to improve its depth-of-character, we might assume.  Even the photograph above is causing my feet to start pulling me in the direction of the tea-table.

Solid orange goodness

For some reason unbeknown to me, I am listening to bluegrass on this peaceful Saturday morning, while drinking this tea.  The combination is rather good, in fact.  Perhaps its the thought of chewing on a piece of straw that links the music with the tea.

I have been generous with the leaves, because autumnal cakes are not very punishing.  I wrote the following in my diary: "the result is actually magnificent".  It really is rather good.

The complex wild-flower scents mix with a rich, leathery base, much beloved of tea from that region, and yet it is all well-supported by a core of sweetness and bitterness.  "It fills the mouth and the imagination", I wrote, probably overcome by dodgy poesy at the time.

They may not look like much, but they taste entirely excellent

It is a crime to drink this tea in any manner other than slowly, giving it the full attention.  I think Xiaohu had been taken out for a walk by his Nainai at this stage, which explained the peace in the house.  Not that my dear son destroying things isn't restful.

Yes, they do all look the same

The test for these autumnal teas is, really, how they hold up under extended brewing.  They usually tend to be a bit weak and underwhelming.  Like its predecessor, the 2011 version continues to produce strong, interesting soup after two hours (which is aided by my use of plenty of leaves, it must be noted).

Repeated sessions at other times allowed me to draw similar conclusions: I enjoyed its potency; its clean, granary sweetness; its tongue-gripping kuwei [good throaty bitterness].  All of these give me hope for good aging prospects.

Brew this tea as strongly as you dare, but brew it you must.

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Addendum
September, 2013

This tea is fascinating - while I remember its youth, described above, after a few years, it now tastes almost exactly like ziya [purple-sprout] tea.  It is highly floral and fruity, and does not taste like strong pu'ercha.  This is a great disappointment, and I hope that it is just a short-term minimum; however, I suspect that age will not improve this cake very much more.  We will wait and see.  I bought two or three of these cakes, and may use them as a warning to myself in future...

2008 Chenshenghao "Bulangshan"

Chenshenghao is nominally one of the favourite brands of the owner of Red Lantern Tea, who is a rather accomplished (professional?) photographer by the name of Jongky.  

I found the 2008 Nannuo and the 2008 Yiwu to be "red" cakes, not to my taste.  Thus, this sample was relegated to the nether-regions of the location used to store my samples: n-dimensional Sample-Space (which is actually a reproducing kernel Hilbert space, for those keeping track at home).

The time for its redemption from Sample Space has come.  We fire up the kettle.

The wrapper, pictured below, adheres to the school of "call it Menghai and perhaps people will buy it": writ large over the top is "Xishuangbanna Menghai Qizibing".

Jongky's photographic skills are such that I prefer his shot of the leaves, in preference of my own pre-dawn photography:

The leaves are, as in the photograph, large and well-maintained.  My sample was less tippy than might be expected from the image shown above, but it is possible that the surface of the cake has a little more "hair" than the interior.  Either is fine, because I'm not obsessive about including white tips - in fact, white tip cakes can be sweet, easy-going, rather weak affairs, leading me to prefer "real" leaves.  Naturally, a range of all leaves leads to a good range of characteristics.

I was pleasantly surprised by this cake, given my poor experiences of its two cousins from 2008.  The body is smooth, and there is a heavy sweetness present.

It is a cake that develops momentum, which is unusual these days: the kuwei [good bitterness] is not strong at the outset, but builds during subsequent infusions.  This suggests that the leaves are slowly giving up their contents, and their continued endurance suggests that they have quite a lot of contents to give.

I rather like it: reticent, sweet, but present and interesting.  It rewards patient attention, and leaves the mouth and throat feeling most pleasant.  This is one to drink with a straight back and an attentive mind.

If pushed hard, the husky finish and some plantation "green" becomes apparent.  However, the cooling sensation suggests that there is at least a small proportion of old-tree leaves in the blend.  $40 seems a touch much for a good, but basic, cake.  It is available for 180 RMB ($28) via Taobaowang, but, after all of the subsidiary fees, it would probably work out about the same to buy it from Red Lantern.

It didn't strike me as a potent Bulangshan cake, but it was a good session.  A solid mainstream cake, if unexalted.  It knocks the socks off its two 2008 cousins.