Water

Steam

Wet with Puer

An Assemblage of Teaware

Tea and Wine Pairing

This is a brilliant result for us: Over 25 tea specialists from the UK and Europe submitted hundreds of green teas, yet we still took over half the awards in the category. It shows that buying direct from smaller producers means your tea just tastes better.
- Canton Tea Co founder, Jennifer Wood

In celebration of their success, Canton Tea Company has partnered with Steepster.com to offer a special Gold Award Tea Taster Pack that contains 10 gram samples of each of the eight award winners for $19.95 including worldwide shipping. The offer is only available through Sunday July 25th, and it is an excellent opportunity to try some excellent teas.

While you’re there, consider purchasing some of the
Yu Lan Dan Cong Oolong at the same time. It’s fabulous. Read about it here and on Lainie Sips.

While I am extremely strict about using only teawares that come from the same culture as the tea I am drinking, I have a soft spot for the misfits, anomalies and enigmas of the world, and also objects that signify an intersection of cultures. The piece of teaware in the accompanying photographs is one of the best examples I’ve ever seen of an odd blend of two different tea cultures and artistic traditions.

The style and form of the object are those of a fairly typical Russian podstakannik. A podstakannik (подстаканник) is a metal tea glass holder, used for drinking black tea in Russia and the Ukraine. Examples generally look a lot like the second image in this post, either with the metal filigree often found in Russian metalwork, or cast with images of Russian myths or history. Many of these items made during the Soviet era have emblematic revolutionary symbols: the hammer and sickle, rockets, or images of revolutionary heroes. But this piece was made in China sometime between the middle of the 19th Century and the very early 20th Century, in a style that is clearly Chinese.

The majority of the Chinese metalwork referred to as “export silver,” due to the fact that it was made in China to be sold to people outside of China, had Chinese designs and motifs, which were in vogue in Western European countries and the United States at the time. But they were made in the forms of utilitarian objects that were not at all Chinese, like napkin rings, salt cellars and western-style teaware. Chinese export silver teaware is generally in the British style, in sets of three pieces: teapot, creamer and sugar bowl.

But this particular piece of teaware was obviously not made to appeal to the tastes or tea practices of the British or American silver buyers, which comprised the primary markets for Chinese export silver. I assume that during this same period of history there must have been some demand within Russia for the works of these highly skilled Chinese silversmiths, but this is the only evidence I’ve seen of a piece that is so specifically Russian.

The style fits the description of items from the third period of Chinese export silver, from 1850-1885. But its form, as a traditional Russian tea object does not fit into anything I’ve found on this period of Chinese production. It does have manufacturer’s marks in Chinese on the bottom of it, but I think that they just say that the item is made of silver, and do not bear the manufacturer’s hallmark. I noticed when I photographed the marks that the bottom round piece was cut from sheet silver. Upon closer inspection of the main body I can see that the entire piece is made from sheet silver, with the patterns cut out and ornamental relief hammered into it. None of it is cast silver. The craftsmanship of the piece is quite marvelous.

For more general info, here’s an excerpt from an Antiques Roadshow article on Chinese Export silver:

All Chinese silver was made by hand, with its elaborate designs hammered out by master Chinese craftsmen. The silver depicts flowers, birds, landscapes, dragons and human figures, the patterns that collectors seek out most often. Since Europeans would spend weeks or months aboard ship to travel to China, they would often spend months there. That was long enough to choose a pattern that could be custom-made while they holidayed. “Many of the pieces you see for sale today were made to order,” Stuart says. “It was primarily for foreigners. The elaborate designs of most of the export silver weren’t to the Chinese tastes.”

It should be noted that the podstakannik’s original glass had been lost or broken probably decades before I ever saw the piece. I replaced it with a standard-sized juice glass that I bought for about $2.00 in a thrift store. It fits it perfectly.

Appropriately, the tea pictured with it is Keemun, a tea grown in China and favored in Russia.

In preparation I read as much as I could find about use of these stoves, and other people’s frustrations and successes. I recognized that one of the most important factors in using the stove successfully would be getting the charcoal pieces into a steady, reliable burning state before placing them into the burning chamber of the tiny stove. So before I even attempted using the tea stove for the first time I purchased a butane-fueled portable burner to use for lighting the charcoal. I have used a couple of different objects as grates over the flame to keep the charcoal from dropping in, but the most effective is a small enameled steel basket intended for use with foods inside a barbecue grill. Using it directly over the flame has warped it, but it works well. One of the other things I tried was a combination of two grills at right angles to each other, but this was awkward and not fine enough of a grate to prevent enough of the small pieces from dropping into the burner. This method of lighting the charcoal with high flame over a burner works quite well and must be done outside, unless you don’t mind sparse flights of fine sparks and ash inside of your house.

After the coals are sufficiently lit, I use a pair of brass chopsticks to place the smallish pieces into the stove. I’ve found that since the stove itself is small and lightweight it’s easiest to fill it with the burning charcoal outside and then bring it inside of the house for tea. One important thing to remember is that the ceramic kettles that come with these stoves need to be filled with water at least a half hour before placing them onto the stove so that they do not crack.

After the water-filled kettle is settled onto the top of the stove it proceeds to heat up steadily to a full boil. I haven’t timed this exactly, but the volume of the kettle is fairly small, so it doesn’t take very long. As it approaches boiling, steam pours out of the spout and swirls around the lid. The design of the kettle lid makes it possible to pick it up to check the water without getting burned. In my brewing sessions with the stove I keep a pitcher of room temperature spring water close at hand to top up the kettle with fresh water as necessary. It is important not to let the water level get too low or shock the ceramic with water that is too cool when it’s over the burning charcoal, but adding water a little at a time is not a problem.

For more on the technique, read Tea Habitat’s Guide to using a Chao Zhou Stove Set.

While no definitive list of tribute teas exists, here are ten of the most commonly recognized:

1. Long Jing (dragonwell)
2. Bi Luo Chun
3. Huangshan Mao Feng
4. Liu An Gua Pian
5. Xinyang Maojian
6. Duyun Maojian
7. Lushan Yunwu
8. Junshan Yinzhen
9. Tie Guan Yin
10. Pu’er

Each of these teas tells stories of its own, including colorful legends of its origins, and exploits of how it became acclaimed as a tribute tea. Suffice it for now to notice the dominance of green teas on the list (1-7) over yellow (number 8), wulong (number 9), and black (i.e. Pu’er).

Armed with this information, you are better prepared to delve into the best China has to offer in teas. After all, if these were treasures dedicated to the king, shouldn’t they spend a little time enriching your palate?

Further research of your own is still advised before acquiring these teas for yourself. For example, Xinyang Maojian originates from Henan province. Similar maojian teas from other provinces attempt to imitate the style and flavor. Accept substitutes at your own risk, but just as when choosing wine, be mindful that life is considerably brief to spend time drinking poor tea. Follow the lead of kings and seek tribute teas.

Guest post provided by Jason Walker of Walker Tea Review.  Jason’s site hosts online tea tastings and video tea reviews.

This is my contribution to the first in a series of tea blog carnivals sponsored by the Association of Tea Bloggers, the theme of which is, “What is your favorite piece of teaware, and why?”

While it was a bit of a challenge to choose just one item of tea ware among so many that have special importance to me, I settled pretty firmly on the Yixing teapot that I generally refer to as the “Buddha Hand Teapot.” Acquired several years ago, this teapot is an unusual, wonderful piece of teaware, unlike any others I have seen before or since. The position of the hand is quite graceful, and appears to me to have a close affinity to the Buddhist hand gestures known as Mudras (although I have so far been unable to find a specific one that matches it).

It would be highly unlikely for any craftsperson – especially a Chinese ceramicist – to sculpt a teapot in the form of a hand with a monkey head as its lid without those elements bearing any symbolism. However, I have so for been unable to identify any information that correlates to the particulars of the hand position and I don’t know of any obvious explanation for the monkey. Buddhist iconography is extensive and complex, however. I don’t think I’m looking in the wrong place; it’s more likely that I just haven’t gone far enough with the search.

I know nothing definitive about the teapot’s history before it was shipped to me from China. Its style, form, and material identify it clearly as an item of Chinese artisanship, but curiously it has no actual marks or seals anywhere on it, which is very unusual for a hand-made Chinese teapot. I don’t know how old it is, but it has the appearance of an object that has been around for at least a few decades. It already had some sheen from use when I got it.

In using the teapot again for the purpose of taking the photos for this post, I was reminded that in spite of its wonderful appearance, it is not terribly easy to use. It is a little larger than most gongfu pots, and the fingers, being hollow, fill with tea and become quite hot. Since the pot must be picked up by the fingers, pouring the tea can be tricky. In the end, the challenge of using it takes nothing away from the beauty of its appearance in use, and it is shown off to its best advantage when wet with water and tea.

While I would like to be able to find out more about who made this teapot, when they made it, and what it means, I can still appreciate it as a mystery and use it with a nod of appreciation to the unidentified Chinese craftsman who formed it so beautifully from a lump of clay.

In order to more fully appreciate the hundreds of teas available, here are 10 that will serve as guiding lights and points of comparison. As there can be distinction even between retailers’ teas, it is recommended that you try the same kind of tea from at least 2 different retailers or sources.

The list includes teas from the main 4 categories of tea: white, green, wulong (or oolong) and black.

1. Silver Needle: this white tea originated in China, although other countries are developing silver needles. Silver needle consists of the downy tips that are light green to silvery color.
2. Bai Mu Dan (sometimes Pai Mu Tan, White Peony): White Peony is the bridge between white and green teas. It includes more mature green leaves, silvery tips, and the stems that connect the two.
3. Dragonwell (or Long Jing, Long Ching): This Chinese green is pan-fired and shaped to give it a “grasshopper wing” shape. Fresh long jing has flavors reminiscent of steamed wild rice.
4. Sencha: A Japanese green. Sencha often resembles emerald green sewing needles. A good sencha, when prepared properly, delivers a creamy or brothy coating in the mouth and brings savory hints of seaweed and sweet spinach notes.
5. Li Shan: A Taiwanese oolong with fragrant floral scents. Li Shan usually consists of 2 leaves and a tender bud on a stem that is lovingly rolled into a compact ball resembling a small paper wad.
6. Tie Guan Yin (also Tie Quan Yin or Ti Kuan Yin): While the ali shan offers fragrant flower reminders, tie guan yin has a stronger roasted element with a rich woody or smoky touch. TGY resembles li shan in its paper-wad shape, but is distinguishable by its roasted smell and its browner colors compared to ali shan’s brighter green leaf.
7. Darjeeling 1st flush: While this Indian tea is usually classified as a black tea, it bears similarities to oolongs. 1st flushes deliver fruit notes of grape and some of the briskness of a black tea.
8. Golden Monkey comes from Southwest China, the suspected origin the tea plant. The name of this tea comes from the dried leaves that range from gold to a lighter brown. Golden monkey steeps to deliver a black tea liquid with malty, sometimes chocolate tastes.
9. Keemun: Keemun teas stand as shining examples of Chinese black teas. Several variations exist, most notably keemun mao feng and keemun hao ya, and they offer a range of aromas that extend from chocolate to peach/plum notes.
10. Puer (also pu’ erh): Puer is unique in its processing. While many teas depend on an oxidization process to develop flavor, puers rely on a bacterial process for fermentation (think wine or cheese). The result includes both sheng (i.e. raw) puer and shu (aged), the latter one known for earthy tastes and a dark, inky brew.

As you begin to taste these teas, don’t forget to make notes on the smells, textures and colors. A journal can help you immensely when you search for your perfect cup.

Guest post provided by Jason Walker of Walker Tea Review.  Jason’s site hosts online tea tastings and video tea reviews.

But there are also tea mascots that I think are excessively silly and gimmicky, like the little exhibitionist big-headed young boys made out of red clay that pee when water or tea is poured over or into them. Even if their complete lack of elegance and the concept of anything or anyone peeing onto the tea table weren’t bad enough, in my opinion they’re just not in any way appealing or cute.

Last week, emerging from the Seattle Art Museum after attending a very well-done demonstration of Chado, the Japanese powdered tea ceremony – on entirely the other end of the spectrum of dignity as far as tea culture is concerned – I crossed the street and encountered not just one, but an entire windowsill-full of these peeing tea boys. The store was closed at the time, and the effect of the long row of them was very amusing, especially the way they appear to stare through the window, all poised and ready, pointed toward the outside world, but without the ability to pee on anything.

I can only imagine what the two in this next photo did that got them into so much trouble the workers in the shop had to drown them in a glass of water after-hours.

Vital Leaf Teas, the location of this army of clay boys, also has some curiously enormous blocks of pu’er, like these two installed into the back of a bench or table.

Rather than getting sucked into the obsessive virtual silliness of fake agriculture in FarmVille on FaceBook, perhaps you should consider contributing to efforts that result in actual, living real trees instead. Adagio Teas has instituted a program connected to Earth Day 2010 that will plant tea trees in three of the major regions that produce tea. Participants in the program can choose which region they would like the tree planted in, and can even choose where in the field the particular tree will be planted. Adagio promises participants four ounces of tea from their individual tree if it reaches maturity successfully, which is generally after about three years. Due to a number of environmental factors, tea trees are having quite a rough time in China right now. I hope these trees will get all of the support they need to make it.

From Adagio’s description of the program:

This is no ordinary Earth Day celebration. Join a program where stewardship of our Planet is a year-round activity. Help us plant 1,000 trees in three tea-growing regions — China, India, and Taiwan. Once the seeds are in the ground, we’ll invite you to cultivate it virtually, nurturing your tree to maturity. Do this responsibly, and once your tree begins harvesting, you’ll reap the fruits of your labor — fresh tea from the tree you’ve nurtured from birth.

You can see in the screen shot above where my tree will be planted in Fujian, China. It’s the fifth one from the bottom and the fifth one from the left in Field 1. Why don’t you go and plant some trees around it? I don’t think FarmVille has added tea fields to the crops you can plant anyway.

Photo of Camellia Sinensis flower by Shizhou, used with permission, under the Creative Commons license.

Averaging about 3″ in diameter and 10″ long, the individual logs of charcoal are way too large to fit into the tea stove, but charcoal is quite brittle and easy to break into smaller, usable pieces. I might also add a cautionary note that this type of charcoal can also be quite sharp. After bleeding a little onto the shards I more sensibly used an ax for the rest of the task, rather than my bare hands.

I can’t imagine trying to light little pieces of charcoal within the very small burning chamber inside of the tea stove. The charcoal would be almost impossible to reach with a flame. A propane torch might work for this, but I wouldn’t want to apply that sort of heat that close to the sides of the clay stove. Plus that type of tool, commonly used for soldering copper water pipes, just doesn’t have the right aesthetic for use in preparing tea. In any case, it’s considerably easier and more efficient to light the charcoal over a flame and then transfer the coals into the stove once they’ve established a stable level of burning. I used a butane-fueled, single-burner hob for this purpose, with a barbecue grate placed over the flame to contain the charcoal pieces. The one thing I found a little disconcerting during the lighting process was that the charcoal spewed quite a lot of sparks as it caught. I lit the charcoal outside so that I didn’t distribute sparks and ash all over my living room. Once I had placed the burning coals into the tea stove with a pair of brass charcoal chopsticks, I brought the stove into the house to use and the fuel burned completely cleanly, without sparks or ash, and I let them catch sufficiently so that there was no danger of them threatening to go out while I was using the stove to heat the kettle of water.

Alternately, a gas stove would work for the lighting stage, although even if my stove were gas intead of electric I think I’d still rather have this phase take place outside of the house. I also suspect that different charcoal types vary considerably in respect to sparks, smoke and ash. I’ll get some additional types and test them at some point.

I would hope that everyone already understands that unlike this type of charcoal, briquets are toxic and dangerous. Using them in any form to heat water for tea, or inside of a building is foolhardy and potentially deadly. This is due to the non-charcoal stuff they’re treated with to make them catch more easily in a barbecue (not that they do this without tons of lighting fluid anyway). But pure, plant-based charcoal is not poisonous. If it were, you would certainly never hear of anyone using it to purify water for tea or to neutralize amonia in fish tanks. It’s evidently not even repellent to curious cat noses. Pure charcoal is actually kind of a nice substance, clean burning and pleasant. I did not have the least bit of trouble with smoke, ash or a bad scent after I brought the burning coals inside.