Same tea, different cups

Experimenting with different porcelain cups and a ceramic one. 1) Porcelain yunomi 2) artisanal ceramic yunomi 3) porcelain tea cup.

Few days ago, I received a beautifully glazed Japanese yunomi in the mail by mistake as I had originally set my mind on regular porcelain ware. It was a rustic work of art. I have very few handmade ceramic pieces in my collection and this was the perfect addition so I realised on hindsight.

Being unfamiliar with ceramic pieces, I decided to compare the influence of tea cup materials on brewed tea -  Bi luo chun green tea brewed open style in an old blue and white bowl. Doing so will allow the tea to cool down faster on a hot summer day.

Next, I spooned equal amounts of tea from the bowl into individual cups and went about tasting. Before the infusion was ready, I already did a pre trial on the cups using boiled water and yes, I did notice slight differences in the liquid texture on my palates. Water from the ceramic piece felt softer and gentler on my throat.

Now onto the infusion. Notice the difference in colour intensities? This could be a clue as to how the tea will taste. Through this experiment and also from earlier experiences, the handcrafted ceramic yunomi in the centre gave the mellowest tasting tea. The porcelain cups on the other hand, seem to highlight the tea's fragrances well.

A reader suggested that I could switch to glass - a neutral material that potentially does away with any performance irregularities. Personally, I enjoy the process of collecting intriguing data. This way, I may be able to choose to drink tea out of glazed ceramic when my craving calls for a balanced cup of tea or pick a porcelain yunomi on a Monday morning so the fragrances can provide for an invigorating wake up call. There is always room for discoveries and fine-tuning one's brewing techniques along the way.

What are your experiences so far? Do you have a preference for certain materials or a particular dislike for others?

 

Summer's green teas - Long Jing

Green teas make for great heat diffusers in summer. Their cool and fresh taste prove to have won the hearts and minds of tea lovers. The perfect hot weather recipe to get over dizzy spells and a placating drink for the increasingly hot tempered as I speak from experience. 

Having just returned from the coast, a delicious green brew was badly needed to moisten my parched throat and dry mouth. To pamper myself, I picked the sweetest available green tea also known as Long Jing or Dragon Well tea. Depending on tea grades, the methods for preparing green tea can vary. I borrow the  sports car concept, cruising on the highway in an Alfa Romeo at 90 km/h would be a shame and a complete disregard of its best at 200 km/h. The grade of tea I have selected is of a good quality known as the Shi Feng Long Jing. Hence, it would be a waste not to prepare this tea with higher brewing temperatures in the high 90s up to 100 degrees Celsius.

Because of the age of this tea (2 years old now,) I needed to restore some degree of freshness by allowing it some rest time (30 - 40 minutes) in an old seed jar. Indeed, the magic of time never stops to amaze me, not to mention what storing tea for longer periods of time can do to your teas. The flavours will improve and you achieve a longer aftertaste for the time invested in tea storage. 

Pre-heating of your tea cups and gaiwan is a necessary first step before moving on to brewing tea. Some methods of infusing medium grade green teas include partially filling your gaiwan with hot water, throwing in the leaves and then fill the rest of the gaiwan with hot water. For a high grade tea, the process involves adding tea leaves into a preheated gaiwan and then fill with hot water, gently pouring in from the sides of the gaiwan. 

The leaves are fairly flat and do not require much strength of pour from the hot water to open up. It is a delight to see these tiny green rafts floating in my gaiwan and gradually revealing their true form. 

The brew looks deceptively light, but tastes very sweet, nutty and rounded. Combine this with the aromas under the lid and the experience is a very rewarding one.

  

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.