Water

Steam

Wet with Puer

An Assemblage of Teaware

Tea and Wine Pairing

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.

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.

The author’s summary of the book:

“When young Fu is challenged to a duel by the warrior Chang, Fu panics. His only hope is that the Master will train him, just as he’s trained all the young warriors of the village. But instead of teaching Fu to fight, the Master teaches him…to pour tea.”

The artwork is every bit as wonderful as I expected it would be. Rocco used actual tea and tea leaf to stain his pages in part of the process of producing the illustrations, which lends a rich, soft look to them. His characters are expressive and interesting to look at, even the duck who the main character tries to trade to the Master in exchange for teaching him the art of combat. One of the the things I particularly like about the illustrations is the number of subtle details worked into them. The overall layout of the illustration and the texts is also very well done. In some places Rocco employs the use of frames to show a sequence of actions to nice effect, including one page with three panels that illuminate the caterpillar-through-butterfly metaphor used by the Master.

“I tried to apply these lessons while creating this book, (purpose, flow and patience). The artwork was created using pencil on paper and then adding color digitally. The stains were created by soaking watercolor paper in tea and tea leaves and then adding them to the paintings in Photoshop.”
- John Rocco

My favorite of the illustrations is probably one during the section where Fu discovers the qualities of the tea itself and begins to learn the practice of brewing it properly. In a playful transformation of scale (and reality), Fu and the duck are shown looking out from inside of the teapot, with the aforementioned caterpillar circling the rim and the Master peering in.

In spite of the overall charm of the book, it was impossible for me to ignore discrepancies in the portrayal of Gongfu tea preparation itself. There is an illustration showing the main character pouring directly from his teapot into a tasting cup, bypassing the aroma cup right next to it, and omitting a sharing pitcher, even though a sharing pitcher appears in one of the other pictures. There’s also an illustration that shows the tea master drinking from a tall, narrow cup that looks like an aroma cup as shown in the other pictures. (For a brief explanation of aroma cups and sharing pitchers, see steps 10-14.) Of course there are regional and personal differences within the practice of Gongfu Cha, but it’s not orthodox practice to have tea ware on the tea table that gets ignored altogether. I suspect that the author found one or more Gongfu Cha tea sets to use as models, but has not seen many demonstrations of how the different implements are actually brought into play.

There is also a conceptual problem that would have been avoided had the author held a deeper understanding of Gongfu Cha. As Fu is taught to brew tea he is told that he needs to learn the patience required to brew each “round” (infusion) of tea to produce identical cups of tea. This is contradictory to the essence of the Chinese tea ceremony. Each infusion will present very different aspects of the tea as it reveals its characteristics in the increased unfurling of the leaf and emergence of flavors into the water. The focus is on transformation and the distinctive qualities of the tea, not on manipulating the leaf to avoid awareness of change. The Master states correctly that the length of infusion must be modified, but the reason and results given are inaccurate.

I acknowledge that this level of criticism is a bit over-the-top for a children’s book. It would be like taking issue with a book in which there were an illustration of a kid wielding a drill affixed with a Phillips screwdriver bit aimed toward a lag bolt – a level of detail that many people would fail to recognize, but would plague people like me for a few minutes before we decided we were being too particular.

That said, I wish that Mr. Rocco had run drafts of his text and illustrations past at least one person well acquainted with Gongfu tea so that he could have gotten the details right. The inaccuracies do not compromise the book to the point of diminishing its charm or value, but it would only have taken a little bit of additional advisement from an expert or two to insure a greater level of authenticity.

Last month I brought the book with me when I was visiting family for Thanksgiving, which gave me the opportunity to expose it to real children. My six-year-old nephew enjoyed the book quite a bit. I didn’t get to have an extensive discussion with him about what he thought about it, but he told me he liked it after I read it to him. It’s also notable that he picked up the book and sat for quite some time reading it on his own, before I had even showed it to him or told him that I wanted his opinion.

The overarching messages of the book are good ones: that learning to focus on an artful task and resolving conflicts without physical violence are desirable goals. The ideas are expressed well within the context of the story in a way that seems it would be comprehensible to small people. And in the aggregate of tea-related books for children, this one stands out admirably for the absence of the omnipresent floral, frilly tea party line.

On the other hand, the ways that Lu Yu is identified in English are not so consistent. He gets called anything from a “tea scholar” to a “tea immortal” to a “tea god,” generally accompanied by a reference to him as the writer of the Cha Jing, but sometimes he is recognizable only by his affiliation with tea and his image and accoutrements.

As a sculpture of Lu Yu, the piece pictured in the accompanying photographs is more than a little strange, but it uses the same basic elements as most of the other examples. Its difference is in the omission of a whole lot of traditionally important elements, like arms, legs and a body. The person from whom I bought this sculpture identified it as a copper 18th century “tea god,” which is not terribly accurate on any level. I can only speculate on its actual age, but it appears likely to be mid-twentieth century. I wasn’t looking for authenticity as an 18th century artifact, particularly at the price I bought it for, so this is of little concern aside from my desire to know the sculpture’s history. It’s made of bronze, not pure copper, and is an individually cast piece, not a mass-produced piece from a mold. It measures 4″ end to end and is about 2.5″ at its tallest point, which makes it pretty comparable in size to most of the ornamental figures that sit on tea tables, but I don’t know if that is what it was made for.

The artist’s/manufacturer’s seal on the bottom is in a style of characters that looks to be very old-styled script and stylized, like a lot of seals on cast metal Chinese antiques. This is not an indication of age, and I have yet to find a good source for decoding these seals. It looks so dissimilar to modern Hanzi (Chinese characters) I may even have photographed it upside-down, in which case I’ll be a little embarrassed.

There are some additional photographs of the sculpture on Lu Yu’s fan page on Facebook.

Chan Chu (蟾蜍, chánchú) is the most common form that tea mascots can be found in. This is the omnipresent three-legged toad with the money on his back, symbol of prosperity and an annoying reminder of a lot of really silly blather about feng shui.

Tea mascots are almost always connected to good fortune that involves wealth. They often have coins or other forms of money built into their design and are said to encourage good fortune.

Personally, I have no illusions about the use of these creatures bringing me any enhanced wealth, in fact they’re pretty good at insuring that I have less of it periodically, but I find some of them very compelling and attractive, especially as they’re getting doused with tea. My new favorite of these tea mascot is this bat (biān​fú​, 蝙蝠) that I bought recently. He is made from a dark, slightly rough clay, like most of the others. He also has a coin in his mouth that turns and very attractive tiny black beads for eyes.

I don’t normally name inanimate objects (other than four-decade-old cars), but I think this charming fellow needs a name. Any suggestions?

Bai Ling Gong Fu, grown on Tai Mu Mountain in Fujian Province, is one of only two black teas that Canton Tea Co carries. I interpret this as an indication that they consider it rather special, knowing that it can hold its own alongside their oolong teas, which are generally expected to exhibit a greater degree of subtlety and refinement than any black tea.

Canton Tea Co’s description:

“This soft red tea is made from only tender buds, which are shaped into tight and elegant strips. The leaves have fine orangy-yellow hairs hence its nickname – Ju Hong (clementine red). The ‘Hao Xiang’ (bud’s aroma) is fresh and sweet with a hint of creamy caramel and the liquor is golden red with a smooth texture and a long, soft, mellow aftertaste.”

Note: in China, the fully oxidized teas we call “black” are more commonly called “red” (hong).

One thing notable about the dry leaf of Bai Ling Gong Fu is that it has long, slender and very curled leaves with brilliant golden highlights and it has a fine layer of light brown dust on the leaves. This dust left a fine residue in the strainer as the tea was poured through it each time. The dry leaf had a nice sweet scent, promising a nice liquor.

As I anticipated, based on the look and scent of the dry leaf, the brewed tea had a wonderfully complex flavor. The taste varied quite a bit across the four infusions. At times I found it reminiscent of wood charcoal and creme brulee, and, most prominently, orange peel and burnt sugar. This dark, bity richness was quite wonderful alongside the tea’s interesting slick, coating mouthfeel.

While I imagine that this tea would still be good if brewed with a method other than gongfu cha, I do not think that it would display its best qualities. I suspect that a lot of the tea’s finer character would be undetectable if it were made in a large teapot, typical black-tea style. Overall, drinking it was quite a nice experience each time, and in addition to the pleasurable taste of the tea, it’s quite a gorgeous shade of brilliant orange.

My first exposure to a tea mascot was at New Century Tea Gallery. As the owner prepared and served tea gongfu style, I noticed an inexplicable yixing sculpture hanging out on the table and accepting a wash of tea and water every so often during the course of the tea service. I was told that this was a “five-kind animal” and that he brought good luck. In most Chinese teashops and tea houses you will find one of these objects on the table where they serve gongfu cha. I have found little reliable information in English about them and can not determine what the Chinese call them as a group, so in the absence of a traditional Chinese term I have taken to calling them “tea mascots.”

During the course of the tea ceremony, tea and hot water are poured over the tea mascot. Over time this helps to create a nice patina. The sculptures are generally representations of traditional Chinese symbols and are incorporated in order to bring good luck and/or accumulation of wealth.

The tea sculptures assume many different forms, from human babies to the animals of the Chinese zodiac to mythical creatures. The most common type is probably the three-legged money frog with gold coins on ropes leading from his mouth. An explanation of the origins and uses of the money frog (or toad) can be read here.

Some of the types of tea mascots have additional aspects to them like clay balls that roll between lion paws when liquids are poured over them or streams of liquid coming out of naked little boy figures onto the tea table.

The figures are sometimes made from the same zisha clay used in yixing teapots and sometimes from a coarser, more mottled-looking clay. The two examples that I have are very different from each other. One is a rounded, somewhat stylized foot with two spider-like insects on it. I do not know what the symbolism of this object is. The other one is a rat sitting on a bag of money. He meant to be a bearer of prosperity, as he will open up his bag to give money. I just like the way he looks.

There are tea shops where these sculptures can be purchased. Both of mine came from New Century Tea Gallery. There are also shops on eBay that sell them, but they can be tricky to find using search terms. The three shops below all have a decent selection of them:

Yunnan Colorful
Yunnan Sourcing
Silk Road Trade

This is a wonderful and convenient travel set for gongfu cha. Using it requires some improvisation of some kind of a draining table/tray at the destination, but the set takes up very little room in a carry-on bag. (The gaiwan in front of the case in the photograph fits into the case inside of the pouring pitcher for travel.) In the past few days it flew on four different plane rides without a scratch.

Unfortunately, I was never able to find a good time with relatives to actually serve some of the jade oolong that had also accompanied me on the flights, so the set, as convenient as it is, sat sadly neglected the whole time. I really like being able to take the experience of gongfu cha to other people, especially when they are unfamiliar with it and do not know it’s coming. I need to be better about scheduling it into the socializing next time.

AuraTeas sent the tasting samples in great little aluminum tins that I really liked. But great packaging aside, the most important aspect of a tea review is the tea itself. I have already reviewed auraTeas’ interesting Formosa Aged Dongding Oolong in a previous post.

The Formosa Alishan Oolong was also quite nice prepared and served Gongfu style. I used a glass set so I could get the clearest idea of the character and taste of the tea. It was quite a pleasant medium oxidized oolong, not nearly as floral as some of the really green oolongs. It had a nice hay-like flavor, becoming more like alfalfa in the second and third infusions. By the third infusion the leaves were completely unfurled and the tea had a very bright note. This is a tea very well suited to the sunny and cold afternoons of fall.