1986 Sunsing "Yiwu Chunya" Maocha

GV has been too kind to me - far too kind. This is an entire box of 1986 Yiwu "Chunya" [Spring Buds] from the well-reputed Sunsing teashop in Hong Kong. What a magnificent treat this tea has turned out to be, a parting gift from when we met recently.

Even the box is appealing

The maocha blend is ubiquitously small - it looks very old-fashioned, and I mean that in a good way. Taking a look at the image below, we can see that they are husky-chocolate in colour.

After the passing of some fairly serious deadlines, I am relaxing with a session of this as a treat on a Saturday morning, when I can give it the full time and attention that it deserves.

The wenxiangbei is filled with scents of spiced wood. The photograph below shows the deep burgundy colour of the soup, which fades to yellow-brown at the miniscus.

The flavour is superb: it has a gradual, dense character than adheres to the tongue and fills the mouth with a long huigan of creaminess and dark wood. It has excellent endurance in the mouth.

The huigan is so significant that it becomes impossible to take sips in rapid succession: each sip has such a lovely, wooden huigan that it must be allowed to develop fully in the throat after swallowing. This is a tea for when times are slow and the heart is calm.

The leaves last several days

Later infusions swell into a sweet-vanilla character that makes me glad to be aware of shengpu.

The leaves last me a further day of constant infusion in my office, until they are exhausted and delivering a sweet, pale yellow brew.

My hat is off to GV - an entirely excellent gift, and a wonderful Saturday.

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Addendum
March, 2014

I last drank this in 2009 - after five years, it will be an interest revisitation of a tea that is now seriously old.

So long ago was the last time that I enjoyed this tea, that the photograph above shows that I was writing in a leatherbound, unruled diary of the kind that I have not used in a long time.  The dark little leaves, as you might be able to discern from the photograph above if you zoom in (by clicking), have "jinhua" [golden flowers].  These are crystalline formations on the surface of the leaf, and I did not notice them before.

The thick, black tea starts off quietly in the first infusion, but then rapidly accelerates into a thick, gloopy tar-like substance that packs a strong finish.  As the infusions pass, and the leaves develop, a comforting scent of vanilla accompanies the flavour of humidity.

I have to cut the session short to run off to an unforeseen commitment, but, so good is the tea, that I drink it for sessions over the next two days, during which it remains potent, thick, and enduring.  I am impressed by the sheer longevity of this tea, and leave it brewing in the background, in a little gaiwan, by I brew other teas in Zidu, my teapot.  This is a fantastic tea and, if Sunsing still sells it, you would be well-advised to acquire some.

1986 CNNP

In 1986, I was just leaving lower school. I remember a love of playing marbles, collecting Star Wars action figures with my friends, being terrified at the prospect of attending a school filled with Big People, and truly despising tea. I don't get quite so much time with the marbles or action figures these days, and that school now looks rather small and sweet, but my attitude to tea has changed somewhat. While that freckle-faced young boy was facing his new school, this tea was being picked, steamed, and pressed. The timescale of tea can be very sobering.

Very many thanks to ST for sending this excellent tea all the way from Singapore. (More pretty stamps for my wife, too!)

As is common with teas of the old school, the leaves are very small. They have already passed rusty orange, and are descending into the reassuring colour of dark chocolate (shown above, and below). They have a sharp shicang [wet storehouse] aroma, but nothing too recent - this one has been aired for some time. Comme ci, comme ca - I am neither greatly enamoured nor violently opposed to shicang characteristics.

The wenxiangbei [aroma cup] is all sweetness, with great duration. While shicang, it is clean and distinct. The colour of the soup is a highly desirable orange-red.

The first sensation is its immediate flavour, a charming and unique character: sweet cedarwood, with a broad, root-vegetable base that reminds me of sweet potato. In the nose, a similarly vegetable-like aroma. What a curiousity this is.

The huigan pauses before making itself felt, but then resounds in the throat for many minutes. Drinking slowly, this tea is a long event.

I have used our hanwa [Han dynasty-style ceramic] little 7cl pot, which treats old leaves very well. Its small size requires repeated filling, but more than compensates for our efforts with the joy it brings.

Even creamy vanilla notes develop in later stages of this tea, while a gentle chaqi rumbles on regardless of time or potency.

Thanks again to ST for a fine experience. I have no doubt that the young boy mentioned at the start of this article would have found this tea utterly repugnant, but he turned out OK in the end...