Master's Collections

Master's Collections 

beneath the academic gown -

Skeletor

2011 Xinshengli "Xikong Autumn" and 2011 Charen "Bangwei Spring"

I'm always tremendously happy when new pu'er merchants enter the market.  I'm happier still when the merchants happen to be people whose exploits I've been following, and enjoying, through their previous writings.  It seems that many tea enthusiasts start out writing and end up selling things (Teamasters, Tea Habitat, Essence of Tea, Mandarin's Tea, to name just those that come to mind). In this instance, the merchant is Tea Urchin, run by an excellent chap named Eugene, who started out writing the blog of the same name.  I have long enjoyed his humane and humourous writing style, which brings to life the little villages of Yunnan that he has visited.

(I would be dreadful at selling things, and so please don't expect there to be any "Half Dipper" cakes in the future...)

Eugene kindly sent me a parcel filled with samples, which I offered to buy, but which he instead offered in trade for some of my own cakes.  Although I started out with some other samples from his collection, I thought that I would present this pair of Xikong and Bangwei cakes first, as I found them to be particularly tasty, and I'd like to show my appreciation for Eugene's enterprise by starting on a high note.  (He wrote, ominously.)

Xinshengli is a lesser brand of cake, from which Tea Urchin sells a trio for tasting.  The price is quite respectable, being $33/200g at the time of writing.  For the money, we get some pretty leaves, as pictured above.  Notably, they have a fruity, gentle scent that slowly builds up in the room to tell us that they are still very much alive.

I can't say that I've tried a huge amount of Xikong tea, but that which I have has mostly come from Yunnan Sourcing.  I have invariably loved it, with its rustic, somewhat "granary" character and substantial body, combined with solid fruitiness.  However, all of the cakes that I've tried have been autumnal - including, now, this version from Xinshengli.  Does no-one go to Xikong for the spring leaves?!

The soup is, as we might expect from autumnal teas, rather orange.  The potent, clean thrills of springtime leaves are absent, but this cake contains plenty of character.  Eugene notes a "bubblegum" scent, but I would describe it as being something closer to sweet cereal - it certainly has none of the artificial characteristics that I would associate with bubblegum, for instance.  

I am also struck by the clean. long, and almost effervescent notes that land in the nose - it is a very lively tea.  It tastes rather like the solid little hand-made cake that it is: there is a clean, green, white-sugar sweetness to its body, and, happily, a very definite kuwei [good bitterness], which makes it bold and strong.

The tongue tingles and feels somewhat numb, as after eating flower-pepper [huajiao].  It is not a weak autumnal tea by any means.

Inevitably, I must compare it with Scott's similar 2010 and 2011 Xikong autumnal cakes.  I'm afraid that it isn't a close contest: the "YS" cakes are complex and potent, whereas this Xinshengli is, for all its cleanliness and bold nature, a little more simple.

However, as part of the three-cake tasting set (pictured below), it certainly is a good way to get to know the area.

Let's change gear and enjoy a spring cake: the Charen "Bangwei", where Charen [approx. "tea-compassion" or "tea-kindness"] is Eugene's pu'er brand.  Bangwei [bang-way] is in Lincang county of Simao prefecture, north of Xishuangbanna.  

Contrasting with the sugary sweetness of the Mengla County pleasures of the Xikong cake, this Bangwei is dark and has the heavy, rich character of molasses.  Its texture is the most obvious first impression: it is abnormally thick, and hugely enjoyable.

There is a strong contribution of "green leaf" which elbows aside the chilly dampness of the English weather. Wrapped up at the tea-table, one could almost forget the fact that it has been raining for eight days without cessation.

The grim environment calls for a tea with plenty to discover, and this is it: the Simao-region sweet granary notes give me great enjoyment, as does the substantial shengjin [mouth-watering character].  I am pleased to observe a solid cooling sensation in the mouth, and something that I described in my diary as "a strong, structural kuwei"; i.e., a bitterness that is an integral part of the tea throughout its progression from lips to throat.

The sweetness lingers in the throat; the breath is cooled as if by menthol.  After the second infusion, I am already considering a large purchase.

One should always keep drinking.  It seems that this cake needs longer infusions quite early in its life, suggesting less leaf power than I would find ideal.  These longer infusions take their toll on the quality of the soup, with some "leafiness" becoming apparent.   After nine infusions, I have written that "it has become much more 'normal' than the first infusions would have suggested."  

In all, a good, powerful tea, full of springtime potency.  I liked its price of $53/357g, and you would do well to see if you enjoy its Lincang charms.

To foreshadow my notes of the many autumnal teas from Tea Urchin, I should note that, after drinking this cake, I wished all of Eugene's output would be of spring leaves, for, as we will see, much is lost when cakes are made from autumnal maocha...

2007 Mengyang Guoyan "Bulang Long"

I don't hold the cakes of Mengyang Guoyan in particularly high regard (excepting the special-production 2005 Laobanzhang).  However, the mighty Singaporean storage of Keng turned the 2004 Bulangzu and the 2006 Banzhang into highly enjoyable, richly-stored affairs.  The material of the latter was quite basic, but the storage made them very good indeed.

So, how about this "Dragon of Bulang"?

I don't remember buying this cake, but my spreadsheet indicates that I bought it for $20 in its year of release from Yunnan Sourcing.  I can find no trace of it anywhere on the internet - only the "Star of Bulang" is mentioned out there.

Bizarrely, I don't even appear to have tried this cake.  The wrapper is still sealed (pictured above), while my tasting notes have no record of any sample.  Why did I buy it?  Most importantly, is it any good?!

The big sticker is rather annoying, and reminds my of Douji cakes: one has to partially destroy the wrapper, because the huge sticker has a firm grip on the paper.  After opening, it all looks a little ragged.

However, shown above, the cake is rather pretty to look upon.  Its leaves are a darkish brown, and the aroma is fresh and inviting.  It seems very much "alive", after five years in England.

The instructions included within the cake read "Use wimble to prize some pieces from the cake."  I love the word "wimble", even though I'm convinced it doesn't exist, and resolve to call my pu'erdao by this term from now on.

I am genuinely surprised by the good quality of the leaves included in this cake: all the way through the bing, long leaves greet us (as pictured above).  The result in the wenxiangbei [aroma cup] is complex, long, and sweet - most surprising indeed for a Mengyang Guoyan cake.

The image of the soup above shows all we need to know: it is thick, nicely aged, and (you won't be able to glean this from the photograph) retains tons of power.  Its strong, forthright kuwei [good bitterness] marches through the mouth with the penetrating sweetness of hardcore Bulangshan leaves.

Darkened tobacco notes fill out the bass of the tea and keep things interesting.  It manages to soldier on at full strength, without sewei [rough astringency] until well over 15 infusions, by which time I am bloated and crying like a child.


For a cake that I didn't know I owned, and which has spent its entire life here in England, I'm very pleased with it, and wish I'd bought more than one.  Perhaps it's time to venture into Taobaowang once more...