Archive for the ‘green tea’ Category

My mom went to Colonial Williamsburg and all I got was this lousy tea


2012
04.12
my Colonial Williamsburg care package

Sometime last year my mother went to Virginia, and then sent me a package with some tea-related goodness that she found in Colonial Williamsburg. And before you get bent out of shape about the ingratitude in the title, I’m only kidding.

At many tourist attractions in the United States (and those places  Americans regularly go in Mexico), there’s a t-shirt on sale that says something like, ‘My parents went to (insert tourist attraction here) and all I got was this lousy t-shirt.‘ It’s a sentiment that, when you think about it, is actually openly ridiculing gratitude. Nevertheless, it was funny when I was eight.

I wasn’t expecting much of this tea. It came from an historical location, after all. No-one goes to Colonial Williamsburg for the tea. Unless maybe they’re planning to dump it in the harbour.

Actually, the tea’s not so bad. I wouldn’t go out of my way for it, but I’ve been drinking it all week and it’s better than I expected.

I started with the Bohea, which is described here’

‘A distinctive, China black tea which is one of the finest teas available. It is typical of the tea sold in merchant’s stores such as Greenhow’s, Tarpley’s, and the Prentis Store in the eighteenth century. In November of 1774 two half-chests of tea belonging to John Prentis were tossed into the York River by inhabitants of York and merchants of Williamsburg, in protest of his violation of the nonimportation agreement. A satirical mezzotint was published in London in 1775 based on an account of this Yorktown “tea-party”.’

Here are the leaves:

Bohea, the purportedly ‘distinctiveChina black tea

You probably think the first thing I want to talk about is the description of the tea, but that part’s actually horribly bland and useless. If you tell me your tea is ‘distinctive‘, I smell a rat. What does that even mean? ‘One of the finest teas available‘? I understand that’s simply marketing, but I have to disagree. It’s decent tea. Finest available it is not.

But no, the first thing that caught my eye was mezzotint. What’s a mezzotint? I mean, I can deduce what it means from the context, but I’ve never heard of such a thing. Must put on my researcher’s hat for this one.

Well, I didn’t need to go far. Here’s the Wikipedia page on mezzotint. I thought maybe it was some sort of theatrical production, but this is somehow better. Oh, and here you can see the mezzotint of the Yorktown tea party (you have to scroll down the page a bit).

In addition to the Bohea, there was also a package of green tea called Pinhead Gunpowder. Despite the fact that the little card accompanying the tea has the same ridiculously vague terminology, I adore the name of this tea. Pinhead Gunpowder is perfect, isn’t it? I’m sure there’s an historically interesting reason for the name, but for my ridiculously easily-to-please sense of humour, I’m going to assume this is green tea for pin heads.

That’s it for me. I’m off to drink some more of this aptly named Pinhead Gunpowder.

you can brew tea in cold water?


2011
12.27
that’s Tie Guan Yin on the left and Silver Needle on the right

This is really a post for summertime. So all of you in the Southern Hemisphere will be happy. The rest of you are probably asking, ‘Why not wait until it’s seasonally appropriate? What’s the story on a summer topic in the opening days of winter?’ Well, in my defence, I started thinking about this in summer. And if I try to wait for the right time, I just might forget.

Over the summer, I read people talking about cold-brewing tea. Putting leaves in cold (not remotely warm) water and waiting until the leaves naturally steep into some delicious goodness. You can do that? It works? I’m here to tell you that it does.

Those of you that already know this are going to think it’s a non-story. Of course it does. Why wouldn’t it? Now I know that…but it was somehow beyond my understanding. My mother made sun tea when I was a child. In her case it was tea bags in a container of water that was set out in the sun. After several hours, the warmth of the sun had brewed up a really strong tea (that people ruined with ice cubes and various forms of sweetener), but that’s because of the heat. Right?

If you want to make tea, you need either hot water or you need to add some sort of heat. Isn’t that correct?

Not necessarily. Why have I been sitting on this since summer? Well, it’s simple actually. I had to try it. I had to know it was true before I went off half-cocked about it (I know that’s not my normal way-I’m well-known for going off half-cocked). And once I got started experimenting with cold-brewing tea, I couldn’t stop. It became a sort of obsession.

That’s why it was so timely when in the comments of a recent post Tea Trade Peter mentioned drinking white tea cold. Here’s how he said it:

‘Let’s start with why does tea have to be drunk hot? I like white tea, but when it is hot, I find that I cannot appreciate the flavors, but when it is just warm, or at a temperature just slightly above the room temperature so you still get the aromatics (though, I think they still come through at room temp). I’ve gotten to the point where I’d rather let my white tea cool off before I drink it, it just seems better that way.’

Now, he’s talking about brewing it hot and letting it cool. It’s not the same thing. But when I read what he’d written, I had unintentionally been doing exactly that with various white teas. After I got as much out of the leaves as I could with hot water, I went on and soaked those same leaves in cold water overnight. With astounding results.

It’s not the same as tea brewed with hot water. There are times when the result is something like faintly-scented water. It’s subtle…a lot like what I’ve recently written about white tea in general. There are also times that I’ve left leaves in cool water, forgotten about them entirely, and after a day or so, the resulting tea was as strong and flavourful as any hot-brewed concoction.

Here, let’s move in a little for a closer look:

Don’t actually drink the leaves, ok? Pour these through some sort of filter.

My question is: Have you tried this? What were your results? Though I don’t think I’d do this with any black tea, it’s had unbelievable results with Oolong, green tea, and white tea. How about you? Any experience?

and I don’t care how disgusting it tastes


2011
08.30

One of the only reasons I ever bother wandering over to facebook anymore is because of this fantastic tea group there called Teefreunde (tea friends). Although it’s primarily in German, there are a handful of English posts and these people are properly obsessed with all things tea.

So one post earlier today was written as such:

Gerade eben: “Ich hätt gern n grünen Tee, der darf auch fies schmecken. Hauptsache er ist gesund und nicht so teuer.” (Immer nett lächeln) (My translation – just a moment ago: ‘I’d like a green tea and I don’t care how disgusting it tastes. All that matters to me is that it’s very healthy and not too expensive.’ I continue to smile nicely.)

What a funny interchange, right?

I wrote about the curious way that green tea is seen by the general public in: why does green tea taste like dirt?. It continues to astound me that people think green tea has to taste horrible. What an uphill battle to change this supposition.

But here we are again. Fighting the good fight. There were plenty of positive and helpful comments that you’d expect about water temperature and green tea of questionable quality (Gunpowder tea was the one that got the worst treatment), but my question is

Why does green tea continue to be so derided?

Is there something more that we can be doing?

I’m curious to hear your thoughts.

that wet earth smell


2011
08.06

Am on a bit of a blogging tear right now, but it’s hard not to be when there’s so much going on around here. There was a nice mix of sightseeing and tea drinking today, but I wanted to quickly talk about a tea that Xavier brought along with him.

It’s a green tea from China that he got as a sample from Le Palais des Thés, which is a tea seller we both like quite a bit. The tea’s called Gu Zhang Mao Jian, and the package says that it has, ‘the aroma of wet earth after a storm that is so popular in China.’

We spent an inordinate amount of time trying to detect that wet earth smell. But now that I have a bit more time to think about it, I wonder if the Chinese really have such a fondness for this scent of damp soil. If so, why?


But enough about that. Here’s how the leaves looked before they got all earthy wet:

I thought it looked almost like a Darjeeling, but it tasted like anything but.

The first infusion was nice but alas, as you might’ve expected, no wet earth smell. Maybe it’d materialise upon further brewings (it didn’t). There was a freshness to this Gu Zhang Mao Jian that I almost want to call grassy. Nothing like a Japanese Sencha, but very vegetal.

There was something that almost tasted of asparagus in there, and that sent us down the rather confusing yet enjoyable path of finding the French word for asparagus (it’s asperge by the way). The asparagus-like taste only became stronger on the second infusion.

The smell of the leaves afterwards was so delicious. Almost wanted to go search for something about cooking with green tea leaves. Almost, but not quite.


Here’s how the leaves looked after the thorough workout we gave them:

Unfortunately, you can’t smell the asparagus in a photo. Use your imagination, ok?

There’ll be plenty more about the weekend that all these tea people came to visit, but I wanted to include this tea review before things got under way in earnest. There will be a bit of earnestness, after all. You don’t believe a word I’m saying, do you?

all this tea and I’m still thirsty


2011
08.03

Drank this whole pot of tea and I’m still thirsty. It was a smoky Grand Yunnan, and as much as I enjoy the taste, it somehow didn’t affect how thirsty I am. As if I hadn’t actually drunk any tea.

Yesterday I noticed that I was rarely satisfied after drinking a Bancha, and Verity Fisher responded with ‘I never find green or roasted teas to be thirst quenching, but Indian/African/Ceylon blacks are. Odd, isn’t it?’

It was such an interesting comment, and I’ve been pondering it ever since. Why do some teas simply not quench my thirst? What an intriguing question.

There’s probably a scientific answer for this, but I can’t begin to assess it. It’s beyond my understanding.

But my personal experience? My objective opinion? I have plenty of that.

As much as I love the taste of a smoky Lapsang Souchong, it doesn’t make me any less thirsty. And I seem to respond similarly to other smoky teas. I can’t make a blanket statement about all green tea, but there are certainly some I can think of that fit in this weird category.

Many strong, dark teas do quench my thirst, so it has no direct connection to that. I know I was a little rigid about milk in my Darjeeling in my last post, but I still put milk in some tea. When I drink those (an Assam Harmutti or Ceylon BOP Uva) with a bit of milk, I know I won’t be thirsty afterward.

Maybe you know of a chemical or physical reason why some teas are like this. If you do, I’d love to hear it.

But otherwise, have you noticed that certain tea quenches your thirst more than others? Which tea?

why does green tea taste like dirt?


2011
05.08

One of my intentions is to write this blog not just for those initiated to tea, but for people curious about tea, as well. Maybe they’ve had teabags and don’t really get what all the fuss is about. Or they only drink tea when they’re ill. Or they bought a box of teabags three years ago and periodically pull it out to brew a dusty old bag. With terrible results.

So, a good acquaintance on twitter (look how far we’ve come with all of this) complained about green tea today, and I thought it was the perfect opportunity to give a few simple tips for brewing this stuff.

First of all, here’s @CherylAnneNY and if you roll back through her tweets, you’ll see that she’s less than impressed with the green leaf.

I’m sure we could find a really pedantic site that explains brewing green tea in a really intricate and obsessive way. We’re going to avoid that route entirely. I found a clearly written, short article about it (How to brew green tea), but I can already here you kvetching about each of the little things mentioned.

Here is a direct quote of the four main points:


1. Use loose tea

2. Heat fresh cold water to 165-170 degrees F in a non-reactive teakettle.

3. Let the tea expand while steeping

4. To adjust the taste, change the amount of tea, not the brew time

 

 

‘Loose tea?’, you ask. Is that really necessary? You want as little mess as possible. I know where you’re coming from, but it really makes a huge difference. Quality and temperature of water are also crucial, but if you’re using tea of questionable quality, then you’ll get tea of the same questionable quality.

We want to keep this simple. Although filtered water is best, the most important thing, in my experience, is how hot the water is. For a long time, I let the water boil and added cold water to it. I’ve since learned that the water’s properties change when you let it get to a rolling boil.

If you don’t have a thermometer to check that the water isn’t hotter than 170°F, then simply let it almost boil. I know that’s not at all scientific and there are tea obsessives out there who’ll insist that this is leading you down the wrong path. We’re going to ignore them for the time being.

We just want to make it more comfortable for you in here with us tea drinkers. Once you taste how much better the tea is brewed with cooler water, you’re more likely to ease in a bit deeper and start juggling thermometers and the teapots that’re more ideal for green tea.

Until then, play with it. Use more leaves or less. Brew it for shorter than you think you should. It doesn’t matter if the water is such a light shade of green that it looks like yellow water. How it looks is far less important than how it tastes.

I’m going to end this post by begging for responses. Cheryl agreed to let me mention her here by name, and then she pleaded, ‘Hopefully you will suggest brands that don’t taste like dirt.’ Help me out here my loyal readership. I don’t know American tea brands very well at all. What should she start with? If she has to go with teabags to start out, what’s a brand of teabag that’s not that bad?

Come on people…jump in here and help us out.

‘Help me, Obi-Wan Kenobi. You’re my only hope.’ -Princess Leia

on The Path of Tea


2011
05.04

In the South (of the United States), the natives drink a very aptly titled concoction called Sweet Tea. It’s iced tea mixed with as much sugar as it can possibly take. Actually, there’s normally more sugar than can actually be dissolved in the tea. You get to the bottom of a glass of Sweet Tea, and there’s a syrupy sludge that is surely a dentist’s nightmare.

I had few illusions that I’d find anything promising when I did a search for tea shops/tea rooms in Houston, Texas. It seemed like an exercise in futility.

Boy, was I wrong.

Almost immediately, I stumbled across The Path of Tea. I knew I had to visit this one. The site is beautiful and informative, but the shop itself is an experience.

The webpage introduces you to Thia McKann and says that she’s the only Certified Tea Master in the State of Texas. That Texas needed more than one tea master, I would’ve sarcastically questioned before seeing this site. It was clear I’d need to keep my snarky comments to myself. I resolved that I definitely needed to see this shop.

The thing I liked most when I arrived was that there was absolutely no tea snobbery. There was an incredibly friendly woman that ushered us deeper into the shop and quickly put us at ease in a way that seems oddly second nature to people from this part of the world. She explained to my mother in very understandable detail what health benefit each type of tea offered. We hadn’t even met the owner/tea master, but we were already in good hands.

I’ve often felt uncomfortable making claims of tea’s health benefits, but I like the very concise list that’s offered on the website here.

There was quite a nice selection of teapots and teacups, and it was instantly evident that this place was not willing to sell a bit of Kitsch, while sneaking in the good stuff. The owner laughed when she recounted how people told her a shop that focused exclusively on tea would never be successful here. She’d insisted on a shop that focused on quality tea and just tea, and the result speaks for itself.

 

 

The best part was the selection of tea that was on offer. There was a display case with little cannisters of loose-leaf tea. Unlike so many places where the tea is jealously guarded behind a counter, this case was out in the middle of the shop where the customer was encouraged to open and look at and sniff at each sample of leaves. Like I said, the whole thing seemed to discourage any sort of tea snobbery.

They’d received a shipment of various Chinese green tea, and the staff was happily pouring cup after cup not only amongst themselves but also with the customers milling around. Our conversation veered wildly away from tea issues and we found ourselves in a lively chat about anything and everything. Exactly the way it should be.

If anyone asks you, there is tea drinking in Texas.

Is tea bad for you?


2011
04.16

Had a ton of great responses to my horror story about my kettle from a few days ago. Thanks for all of that. It really is fulfilling to entertain.

So two things happened this week that got me off on another tangent, and somehow I think this’ll be appreciated here. Rather than work my way up to it, I’ll ask the question here at the outset:

Is tea bad for you?

We often hear about how green tea can cure cancer or halitosis or Tourette’s. For every potential life-saving property that’s attributed to tea-drinking, there’s someone else out there insisting that the science doesn’t back up the claims. I’m glad there are people arguing this, but I’m really out of my depth when any of these topics come up.

My response, when the topic of health benefits of tea arises, is to very clearly say that I really don’t know. I love drinking the stuff. If there are additional advantages, then I’m all the happier.

But what if all this tea I’m drinking is actually detrimental? Ooh, now this might get interesting.

My friend Art has had some rather monumental health issues that’ve led him to assess everything he’s always thought about nutrition and diet. Anytime he sends me anything, I take it seriously. Partly out of solidarity for him and his struggles. Partly because he finds good stuff. When he locates anything tea-related, I know it’s coming my way.

So the blogpost he sent me is from Lindsey “Vee” Goodwin of Vee Tea and it’s all about Tea and Iron. It might be two and a half years old, but it seems like all of this still stands. Let me be perfectly clear: she does not say that tea’s bad for you.

She does however talk about the effect of the tannins in tea on both anemic and vegetarians, and recommends that those people drink less tea or avoid the black or highly-oxidised Oolong tea that have a lot of tannins. Please don’t take any of this from me. Go click on the link, and read what she has to say about it.

She does ask at one point, “You want me to drink LESS tea and plan my meals around my tea-drinking! You must be crazy!” So I wanted to throw this out as a hypothetical:

What if you found out drinking too much tea was, in fact, bad for you? Would it impact your tea drinking in the least? I write quite a bit about black tea. Would I be willing to alter which tea I drink for the sake of my health?

The other thing that happened was much more frivolous. My dentist informed me that it was very self-evident that I was a heavy tea drinker. She said it as if it was an admonition, but I glowed with pride. It’s just cosmetic, isn’t it? What would you sacrifice for the sake of tea?

But she did convince me to lay off the black tea for the rest of the day. Might sound like it’s not much of an inconvenience. I have plenty of really nice Oolong and green tea, but once my black tea was off-limits…it wasn’t a pretty sight.