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o it that quickly spreads throughout the mouth and coats the entire throat as I continue to work the magical soup down into my belly. The evolution of flavors and textures is stellar; across the full session, there is much to appreciate in every sip, and as I continue to work my way through the tea, it’s hard to miss the “wow” factor that these leaves bring. This is seriously impressive. The initial sensations remind me of freshly churned butter and heavy cream infused with a touch of sweet cinnamon; it’s soft and round with no discernible edges to it, and has a warming spicy quality. The mouthfeel is doughy and chewy, like freshly baked scones or shortbread. As the silky-smooth buttery notes melt away on the palate, they reveal a gorgeous bouquet of florals which remind me of white magnolia and lilies – but not just the blossoms, I’m talking about the stalks and stems too. This is a very three-dimensional experience, with great depth and nuance in every aspect of the flavor profile. The milky, flowery notes get stronger even half-way through the session, and are joined by a powerful and characteristic dancong minerality which adds a lot of texture to the mouthfeel. It isn’t aggressive, but adds a touch of sharpness that gently cuts through the smooth, buttery-like qualities initially perceived on the palate, leaving behind what is undoubtedly a vibrant and earthy note of ginseng with slightly tart undertones which remind me of hibiscus flowers and cherries. Towards the end of my session, those fruity undertones start to rise to the surface of the flavor profile, carrying with them a distinct fruity sweetness that is seamlessly integrated with notes of ginseng root soaked in cinnamon oil. My favorite part about this tea is just how complex the mouthfeel is, and how much it changes over the course of a good, focused session. If you are a fan of the Jiang Mu cultivar, you don’t want to miss this one, it will certainly elevate your appreciation and understanding of Fenghuang dancong.
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roast on Cassia Classic is apparent but not taken too far – the flavors are still soft and slippery around the edges, with a smooth texture and oily viscosity to it. The aftertaste is nice and long-lasting. The empty-cup aroma is great, there are clear notes of cinnamon bark with hints of tangy red fruits (I get hints of sour cherries and currants). This is certainly a good option for somebody who wants to explore the intriguing world of Wuyi oolongs, or the more-seasoned connoisseur who just wants some good rougui that doesn’t break the bank. I like to use 7 to 8 grams of leaf in my 100mL “Rural Life” gaiwan, or roughly 10 grams of leaf in a 150mL yixing teapot. Short steep times with near/freshly boiling water make for a lovely experience.
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all the way to a 24-hour long thermos brew using a 1:100 ratio, and water fresh off a rolling boil. When I brew this up gong-fu style, it becomes more earthy – it reminds me of the aroma of an old-growth forest after a thunderstorm, it has something very addictive and primal about it and I find it very satisfying. In a thermos, I find the cong wei becomes more focused after a long brew (12+ hours) – it’s a bit incense-like, with notes of moss, bark, and spices that gently lift up the rest of the flavor profile. Regardless of how it’s brewed up, I always get notes of mint leaf, monk fruit, longan, dark cherries, and I’m sure the more I drink it the more I will discover. I don’t drink very much shu pu’er but I’ll always have some of this around. The price is amazing… $40 for a cake of old-tree Bulang that has over 10 years of immaculate storage on it? Only at Tea Hong.
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ore subtle, though equally rich. I’ve had a gaiwan going all day with the same teaspoon of nuggets and it’s 7:00 p.m. now. It’s still turning out lovely dark, rich, velvety-smooth tea with virtually no steeping time. This tea has helped my concentration through a publishing deadline today, yet I am not jittery. This is no doubt cream of the crop tea.
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