Eight Chapters of an Academic Life, III-IV

III

Latin Grace

incorrect conjugation

after the sherry

IV

the puddle grows

around my towel-wrapped feet -

the Master's phonecall

Discovering Ancient Samples

I plunged into a hitherto-forgotten zone within my tearegions, to discover a sample that looks as if (from the handwriting) that it may have been generously provided by either by South-American teachum, ME, or my eastern central Eurochum, TA.  Or maybe JT.  Or or or.

It is not at all easy to find information concerning the "2010 Shikunmu".  Its name looks vaguely Japanese, and some judicious Googling suggests that it was A Thing several years ago, despite now being completely unavailable everywhere.  Gentle Reader, if you happen to be sitting on a stash of facts concerning Shikunmu, I would welcome any data that you might be able to throw our way.  

"I cannot build a house without bricks - I need data!"

The original note on the sample-bag indicates that this tea is made from Bulangshan (boom), Gelanghe (twang), and Mengsongshan (thump).  How they all work together as a melange we have yet to determine.  Certainly, the twiddly maocha looks rather pleasing to the eye, as pictured above.

This brews a confident, clean, bold yellow-orange, as shown here.  I think you'll agree that it looks rather decent.  Its scent is gentle, warm spice - there is a notable, slow lengxiang [cooling scent] that holds my attention.  In the mouth, this is a "traditional" tea (which is a very good thing): there is much throatiness, accompanied by a definite tobacco undertone.  There is very little "up front", as suggested by the wenxiangbei [aroma cup], but so much appearing later.  It has an almost medicinal quality in the throat, and this is why I describe it as "traditional": pu'ercha was long considered to be a tonic.

Despite the lack of initial flavour, the body is thick throughout, suggesting that the leaves are good.  "Shikunmu" is some sort of pu'ercha expert ("MASTER") from Taiwan.  I see that both Yunnan Sourcing and Chawangshop used to sell Shikunmu; now, I can find only "Dianxitea" on Aliexpress.  It seems that cakes sold by the latter are in the range $50-100, and that there exists quite a range of them.  I rather fancy trying some recent examples.

By the fourth infusion, the base of this tea has swollen into a heavy, straw-like sweetness; I appreciate its inertia, and the fact that it takes several infusions to "get the ball rolling".  This is a slow, heavy, and quite tasty tea with excellent density in the throat.

If I ever get around it, I will check out Dianxitea in more detail.  I suspect, by the time this article reaches publication, that I will have entirely forgotten about it, and so it will serve as a convenient reminder...

I Know What You Did Last Summer

In the case of Peter, of Pu-erh.sk, I suspect he was in Laoman'e.  We recently had a 2010 version arrive from his comfortable outfit, now to be joined by this 2013 autumnal version.  The 2010 was pretty good, I seem to recall.   How the autumnal version from four years later matches up, we can only guess...

This autumnal fellow weighs in at a not inconsiderable 60 euro / 250g (approx. 82 Yankeebux).  However, perhaps expectedly given Peter's previous works, this tea looks rather decent:

Laoman'e is not my favourite location in the known universe from which to acquire tea-leaves, but it can be done well, if selectively.  This particular Laoman'e comes in at the upper end of the spectrum, which is something of an accomplishment given that this is an autumn tea.  As you can see below, the brew is straightforwardly yellow-orange, in the manner of almost every autumnal tea ever created.

The soup is clean, and there is a solid base - savoury and, at the same time, bitter - along with a good, challenging finish.  Again, this is not typically autumnal.

What is typically autumnal is the warm, rounded character - but this dwells alongside the bitter potency of Laoman'e, like a darker, more aggressive, version of Laobanzhang (or "LAOBZ" as it is known in our house).

While I was not expecting to get excited about (i) autumnal tea and (ii) Laoman'e tea, this is pretty good.  The session lasts well, and memories of a previously-horrid tea-session immediately before this one are immediately washed away.  I wouldn't say that this cake is particularly good value, given its big ol' price, but it is certainly well-made for Laoman'e autumnal tea.