Tips for brewing regular grade green teas

Spring is officially here with many green teas soon to line the shop shelves. As it is not very economical to drink top grade teas everyday, it is thus useful to consider going for the regular grade tea leaves. Gyokuro of course is one of the higher grade of tea in the Japanese green tea category. Prized for its umami taste, it is rarely possible to extract this taste when water temperature is too high. Because of this, I have also started to adapt my brewing techniques to optimise infusions for both regular grade chinese green teas and gyokuro at the same time.

I partially fill my preheated gaiwan with boiled water and gradually toss leaves into the gaiwan. The amount of tea added is just enough to form a dense layer on the water surface.

Once the tea leaves are sufficiently moistened (you should be able to see the leaves gradually opening up or pick up the brisk scent of green tea), proceed to fill up your gaiwan with hot water from the kettle. Replace the lid.

The slow and steady movements when preparing gongfu tea allow enough time in between steps for water to cool down. Keeping a thermometer and stopwatch at hand may seem more straightforward but don't seem very in line with the spirit of relaxation for me. By using my senses, I am in fact sharpening my gongfu cha skills and moving away from a reliance on an equipment-overload tea session.

Something that I noticed about Japanese green teas is the lesser emphasis on the luminosity and transparency of the infusion. You cannot avoid those spinachy green bits in your tea cups however narrow the gap is between the lid and gaiwan. 

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Preparing Japanese gyokuro using Chinese teaware

A reader once asked if she could brew Chinese white tea using a glazed porcelain Japanese hohin. The question of interchangeably using your teaware with different tea types is a rather interesting one because with glazed porcelain, we can safely experiment with various kinds of teas and do away with those concerns of residual smells and tastes from the previous brewing session.

The purpose of preparing tea in different vessels is to find out what differences in aromas, tastes and flavours one can observe based on their overall size and shape. In the case of a gyokuro where its price per gram is considerably higher than regular sencha, I would choose brew this tea in smaller amounts in a hohin. The lid of the hohin which I am using is completely flat compared to a regular gaiwan. This is one aspect I do not mind so much when brewing fresh gyokuro because I derive most enjoyment from the umami taste in the tea concentrate.

In the spirit of experimenting, I decided to make use of the remaining leaves in a gaiwan. With a larger vessel to work with, I added slightly more leaves after preheating my gaiwan and meanwhile warm my tea cups thoroughly.

Here the difference in preparing Chinese teas and Japanese gyokuro is quite obvious. Unlike Chinese teas, if I do not cool the water down adequately, the umami taste will be overpowered by the tannins and taste like sencha. To avoid this, I poured water from the heated cups back into the gaiwan. By this time, water temperature in the teacups would have dropped to about 70 degree Celsius, an ideal temperature to prepare gyokuro.

The resulting brew was unlike Chinese green teas. In comparison, the colour was a more intense green with reduced transparency characteristic of Japanese green teas. Tea tasted like a well blended mix of umami broth and sencha. When using a hohin, highly distinct umami notes tend to be released in the first infusion, then come the flavours of green tea in the second infusion that continue to develop in the third infusion with quickly diminishing umami qualities.

Findings like these make experimenting very interesting. The chaxi felt very traditionally Chinese. Yet, the contents of my tea cup reminded me of a foreign element in today's setting which broke the usual routine of preparing tea in a gaiwan. I was made aware that brewing techniques need to be adapted to bring out the tastiest teas. There can never be a set of rules laid out for one to follow rigidly without any improvisation on the tea master's part based on the tea that he is handling.

Me tea is meaty - Japanese gyokuro 玉露

Gyokuro is a fine type of green tea from Japan. It differs from the standard green tea known as sencha (煎茶), because it is grown in the shade rather than the full sun. I very much enjoy this tea at lower temperatures of brewing water, which helps to reveal its well-kept little secret - the taste of meat. 

Yuzamashi, water cooler

To prepare this tea, I used a hohin, also known as a gyokuro teapot for this brewing session. Prices of gyokuro tea sets could range from 40 to 300 Euros. I got mine inexpensively at Takashimaya and paid slightly under 50 Euros for it.  A good bargain, given the soft beautiful strokes of blue-white painting and calligraphy on my tea set.

Gyokuro leaves are rather similar in shape and form to their sencha cousin. The most noticeable difference you see here is its colour. Gyokuro leaves are generally darker as a result of spending 3 weeks under shaded conditions prior to harvest. The dried leaves smell fresh and at the same time carry a deep secondary scent of seaweed and mellowness. I could not resist the idea of picking a few leaf needles to munch on.

Hohin, gyokuro teapot

After bringing water to the boil and filling up my hohin, I transferred water into the cooler, Yuzamashi, before transferring the same water into small cups. The idea is to cool the water down sufficiently before the infusion process begins.You can read more about the preparatory steps here.

Meanwhile, I added about one and a half teaspoons of tea leaves to the pot and poured water from the cups into it. For the first infusion, I would allow 60 seconds before pouring the tea. This is a slow, yet rewarding process. So precious is the tea that the Japanese name it jade-coloured dew,  玉露.   This tea comes from the Uji district, one of the oldest gyokuro-producing regions in Japan. However, the greatest appellation of gyokuro is Yame, in Fukuoka Prefecture in terms of both quality and quantity.

To ensure equal concentrations in the cups, I would pour tea in the sequence of cups 1,2,3 and cups 3,2,1. This way, the  more concentrated tea at the bottom of the pot will be evenly distributed. A neat little trick for the serious connoisseurs.

The jade green liquor and the mellow grassy scents emanating form the cups remind me of  the misty Uji tea fields in light rain. Even though this isn't most people's idea of beautiful weather, such conditions are crucial to the quality of the next tea harvest. Tea plants thrive in high mountainous areas where the fresh misty air continues to caress and care for them.

The first infusion of gyokuro is always the strongest in terms of tasty, meaty notes. This pleasant savoury taste ('Umami', a loanward from Japanese) likens ripened tomatoes. Drinking this tea induces salivation and a furry sensation on the tongue, stimulating one's palates and throat.

Having spent 3 weeks shielded from the sun causes amino acids and caffeine in the tea leaves to build up, while catechins (the source of bitterness in tea, along with caffeine) decrease, giving rise to a deeper, richer and sweeter savoury taste.

So far, I cannot think of a more rewarding experience for a trek through the Uji mountains than this fine and exquisite tea which is a gift from the dewy skies overlooking beautiful Uji.