Wenshan, Taiwan
In green tea, it is
said, one is tasting the weather. In a Pu-Erh, one is connected to the
earth and the contemplation of the passage of time, for Pu-Erh teas are
best appreciated aged. But oolongs, semi-oxidized, variably baked, and
all reliant on the skills of the maker's oolongs fit the Chinese
adage: To take action depends on mankind, but to succeed depends
on the heavens. With years of experience and devotion, the tea
master, like an olympic competitor, will do his very best to achieve
the most perfect oolong possible, but it will be the heavens which
determine his success.
Mr. Lee of Pingling,
Wenshan Taiwan, is one such tea master. One of four sons of a tea
master who grew and created Baochong oolong teas, he is the only
brother remaining at the farm. Nowadays, more glamorous occupations
abound. Mr. Lee points to the cuts on his hands; having to manage four
hillsides' worth of teas on his own is next to impossible. Mr. Lee's
father's grave remains carefully kept in the center of one of the
hillsides, as do all the groves of bamboo, tree size gardenias, and
wild ginger flowers that grow all over his farm. He laments the state
of affairs. For example, there is a shortage of labor. The best tea
harvesters are women over the age of 60, and they are growing fewer,
obviously, and more demanding as to the quality of lunches and other
perks expected.
Whenever I visit
with Mr. Lee, I ask him how his children are doing. "I force them to
help me pick tea," he says with a grin, "during summer breaks from
college studying engineering." But none will take care of this
generational farm when he retires. What will he do then? "Make it a
tourist resort," he said.
One might assume
that with the slight bitterness with which Mr. Lee talks about his hard
days growing tea, that the teas produced would reflect a lack of
enthusiasm. Not so. Four years ago, Mr. Lee's Baochong won first place
in the Spring Oolong competition, an extremely prestigious event. He
was so excited he drank some alcohol, and not the ones he makes with
tea. In subsequent years, he would win second or third place each year.
Undaunted, he entered himself in the first ever Tea Producers
Competition, 2007. This was a contest of pure processing skill, as all
the tea masters were given the same raw leaves. Mr. Lee beat out over a
thousand competitors to win Silver, and for someone just over 50 years
old, this was quite an honor. Winning competitions for one's tea
ensures a good auction price for that lot of tea, but winning for one's
production skills ensures prestige for the entire farm.
Baochong tea, Mr.
Lee explains, is the best of all worlds. The Taiwanese are fanatical
about their oolongs, which accounts for the attention paid to these
competitions. Above all, they believe in the perfection of the Baochong
tea, called "Blue Tea" by the locals, as it is so lightly oxidized, at
20% or less, that it is neither a green tea or an oolong tea (by
definition, oolongs are oxidized between 30 to 80%). By breaking the
surface of the leaf just a little bit less, the Taiwanese find that the
nutrients and vitamins of a green tea leaf remain intact, but the
slight breakage allows complex aromatic essential oils to surface.
Indeed, Baochong teas are some of the most naturally fragrant in the
world, and few can match its gardenia- and lilac-like aromas. A whole
new method of appreciating this aroma was developed, Taiwan style, by
adding to tea preparation a second, thin cylindrical cup that captures
the fragrance.
I sit down to taste
the year's best batch of Baochong with Mr. Lee, the same batch he sends
to the competition. Not only is the signature floral fragrance
pronounced and familiar, but the brocade-like texture of the steeping,
golden yellow and sweet, contained no astringency, but with much more
complexity than I remember it from serving it at my own shop in the
U.S. It dawned on me this time what the reason was, why, enjoyed
at the farm, the tea is always so much better. The water that the tea
was steeped in was the same water the tea plants were nourished and
grown in. The best, most nuanced qualities of the tea could be elicited
only under its most familiar conditions.
Mr. Lee proudly
points to the new bushes he is tending. Some of the branches of the
older bushes were carefully twisted and bent to be buried in the soil.
When new roots sprout, these branches are cut and planted. This way,
the offspring bushes are fully ready before being separated from the
parents. Mr. Lee is also meticulous about other things. Watch these
tiny green leaf hoppers, he said to me. They come and drink away all
the acrid juices out of the tea, leaving only the sweet. Mr. Lee is man
of few words, taciturn and low key like most growers I know. But it is
with such tea masters that I learn the most from, by being in their
presence as we enjoy the tea together, wordlessly, bit by bit, we
integrate into the weather, the tea plants, the fog, the hills, and the
spirit of the humans who love their craft.
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