Maison de thé près de chez moi (2)

Nous sommes retournés à cette maison de thé ce weekend. Cette fois-ci, j'ai ramené mes accessoires. Je n'ai gardé que la bouilloire et l'eau sont fournis par l'établissement. J'ai choisi un zhong afin d'avoir un accessoire polyvalent pour préparer les 3 Oolongs que j'ai amenés (Shan Lin Shi du printemps 2009, Ali Shan Hung Shui Oolong et top Oriental Beauty de Hsin Chu).

A l'arrière-plan, sur la gauche, on peut distinguer un pin très semblable à celui sur mon Cha Bu noir!

La porcelaine blanche ivoire de mon set provient d'une production moderne et industrielle. La technique est parfaite et aboutit à un résultat pur et lisse. Chaque tasse est un clone parfaitement identique. Mais trop d'uniformité froide tue la beauté. Ce qui 'sauve' ces porcelaines dans le Cha Xi est la présence du thé. Dans cette tasse en forme de tulipe, l'infusion chaleureuse et dorée lui donne de la vie, de l'imprévu. Dans ce cadre vivant de culture chinoise, la porcelaine moderne contraste avec le passé. A petite dose, cette porcelaine n'est pas entièrement froide et inerte car elle absorbe la vitalité de son environnement (et du thé). Mais un monde de porcelaine industrielle me ferait penser à '1984' d'Orwell.

Dans le domaine de l'art, on pourrait comparer cela à ceux qui disaient que la photographie, reproduction parfaite du réel, allait remplacer la peinture.

Mais de même qu'il y a des photos ratées et des photos réussies, il y a des porcelaines modernes meilleures que d'autres. Mais si l'on veut atteindre la beauté la plus sincère et la plus humaine, ce n'est pas de ce côté-là qu'on la trouvera.

Dans mon Cha Xi ci-dessus, à côté de mon bras, il y a ce bol de longue cuisson au bois de Terre et Feu. On voit combien il se fond bien dans ce cadre naturel:

Il y a une personnalité, une vigueur, une histoire qui se dégage de chaque centimètre carré. On peut le regarder sans se lasser et trouver à chaque fois de nouveaux détails. En même temps, il s'agit tout simplement d'un bol, l'objet le plus primaire qui soit. Il peut contenir boisson ou aliment. On peut toujours lui trouver un usage, une raison de le toucher et de le mettre à notre service. C'est de la beauté humaine, sans prétention, au quotidien.

(Dans un autre article, j'irai un peu plus dans le détail comment juger la beauté de telles poteries.)

"Splendidly beautiful" and "gorgeous" Cha Bu

These are your -my readers'- words, commenting this Cha Bu in my previous article. I couldn't agree more! The repeating pattern of this Chinese painting looks great even with no accessories on it. Because of this, each Cha Bu is a little different, depending on where the fabric was cut. Some emphasize the bamboo, other the pine tree:
I made this Cha Bu a little smaller than the previous one. It measures 52 x 33 cm approximately. The smaller surface makes it a little less distracting for the eyes. And it also makes it more affordable!
This reversible Cha Bu has 2 options for the second side. Either a burgundy red (see left) or light beige matching the color of the painting (I will post a picture on another occasion).

There is a third layer, an absorbing cotton fabric, between these two sides to absorb the water and tea drops that fall down during brewing.

The fabric can handle some drops here and there, but best is to keep them to a minimum. Compared to a bamboo tray, this may seem a drawback. It's not. It's an incentive to be more focused, precise and careful on how you pour. Concentration helps to pay more attention to details, make better tea and enjoy it thoroughly! It isn't just about aesthetics. It's functional as well!
Here, with the second side, I use the same ivory porcelain and Duo Qio teapot. But this time I brew some 'perfect' Hsin Chu Oriental Beauty from 2007. Day and night.

Spring 2008 'classic' Dong Ding Oolong

Cultivar: Luanze Oolong

Place: Feng Huang, Dong Ding, Central Taiwan

Harvested by hand on April 21, 2008

Roasted in May 2008.

I purchased this Oolong in spring 2008. The roasting was pretty strong at the time. So, I decided to let it rest. Now, 20 months later, the tea feels smoother it feels right to add it to my list. (Also, the spring 2009 'classic' just sold out. It was roasted more lightly).

The color of the brew is golden, pointing to orange, and very clear.

The smells are dark chocolate, malt, brown sugar and ripe fruits.

The taste is sweet, drying and full body. It stays on the tongue and above.

The leaves are quite dark, but they open up completely. The roasting is indeed quite strong, especially compared to the 2009 version of this tea. But it's very comforting and warm on a gray winter day.

In the past, it took a long time for the tea to reach the end customer. Roasting was a way to preserve the leaves during the long journey. Nowadays, air shipments and modern logistics have cut delivery time to days or weeks. This is also a reason why Oolongs have gone 'green' lately.

If the fresh teas like speed, then this 'classic' Dong Ding prefers to go slow. And this is the best way to enjoy it: simply and slowly!
For this Cha Xi, I'm using my zhuni Duo Qio Hu on an 'ivory' white plate, 3 'ivory' white tulip cups and a matching mini jar. The new black Cha Bu features a Chinese painting of bamboo and pine tree. (I will show you this Cha Bu in more detail in my next article.)

Dégustation d'un Jin Cha des années 1930

Il s'agit d'un puerh en forme de champignon, issu du Mojiang (Yunnan) et destiné aux moines du Tibet. Pressé manuellement, on voit encore bien sur le pied la marque du tissu enroulé ; cela fait comme une spirale. Le plus étonnant, quand on prend ce puerh en main est l'impression de légerté. Il est complètement sec.

Mon généreux hôte en décortique quelques grammes. Il préchauffe trois fois une petite théière ancienne en zisha d'aspect rustique et crue. Elle n'est pas élégante pour un sou, mais elle est vraie, dotée d'une personnalité forte. L'eau chaude la réveille et ses pores se mettent à briller.

L'infusion dure une ou deux minutes.

L'infusion est sombre, mais pas opaque.

Les impressions sont d'un thé pur, épais, bon, puissant. Je pense bon avant de penser vieux. Il a gardé une force limpide. Mon esprit s'éclaircit tout d'un coup. Je me sens bien. Dans toute la bouche, il y a comme un film épais et doux qui reste et me donne du plaisir. En odeurs, je sens du vieil encens très fin et précieux. Dans la coupe vide, je sens du chocolat noir et de la Kahlua (liqueur de café). C'est léger, c'est harmonieux, c'est parfait.

D'où viennent ces feuilles? Elles venaient des vieux arbres de puerhs qui poussaient naturellement aux environs des producteurs. Dans les années 1930, personne n'utilisait d'engrais ou de désherbants. Le Yunnan était une région pauvre. La demande relativement faible ne nécessitait pas de nouvelles plantations. La méthode de production était relativement simple. Il n'y avait pas de recettes ou de gradation. Tout était pressé ensemble.

L'ingrédient le plus essentiel, c'est la qualité de départ de ces feuilles d'arbres sauvages. C'est de là que viennent la pureté et la force de ce thé si vieux et si vivace à la fois.

Old sheng? puerh

A kind reader sent me a sample of a 'mid 1960s sheng loose puerh'. Such an old puerh is supposed to taste divine. After a rinse and 2 brews, it didn't feel clean and smooth in the mouth and along the throat. I decided to stop brewing it and switch to my early 1970s raw loose puerh. The dry leaves and the smell are very similar. The big difference between these 2 teas are the wet leaves. After 2 brews, I fished out some from the teapot for comparison. See Above. Can you guess which is really sheng?

The mouthfeel of my early 1970s is completely comfortable and, 3 hours after drinking it, I can still feel the sweet and powerful aftertaste.

Yesterday's Cha Xi is also a good fit for my zhuni teapot and qinghua porcelain. The zhuni and the brew bring a warm touch to a sea of blue.

Now that the tea in my tea cup feels right and delicious, I can switch my mindset from critical and investigative to happy and thankful. With tea pleasure, my mind is set free and can enjoy all aspects of my Cha Xi.

For instance, I can enjoy the peaceful harmony of this black glazed bowl made by hand by my friend Michel.

Update: On the subject of the color of the spent leaves, I have received several comments and e-mails. Let me summarize and add some important points:

- The black leaves on the right are typical of shu puerh ; however, not all shu puerh is as black. Sometimes, the wo dui process is shorter or lighter and doesn't result in such a level of dark color.

- The sheng leaves on the left show leaves with varying colors and darkness. The leaves and stems with most moisture will turn darkest over time (in the humid climate of Asia). Seeing a portion of black leaves is normal and doesn't necessarily mean it's a mix of sheng and shu. (A pure taste will say if it's a mix or not).

- 30 years ago, the manufacturers would have recipes and use different grades, different kinds of leaves in their production. That's why it is normal to see very diverse leaves. Having very similar leaves is a modern trend.

Temomicha

Ambiance japonaise pour ce thé vert du Japon. Sa particularité est visible dès les feuilles sèches. Elles forment de longues tiges entières. Travaillées et pétries à la main, le résultat est très soigné.

Pour les infuser, j'utilise mon petit gaibei (zhong) qingbai et une eau minérale que je laisse exceptionnellement refroidir un peu.

Pour boire, j'ai choisi mes tasses chantantes qingbai pour leur finesse et pour rehausser la couleur pâle de l'infusion. Avec mes Bei Dian (chataku), je reste dans le style nippon. La jarre en étain provient aussi du pays du Soleil Levant et conviendrait bien pour conserver la fraicheur de ce thé vert.

Le vert clair offre un joli contraste avec le bleu foncé de mon Cha Bu. Il peut paraitre un peu chargé vu de loin, c'est pourquoi j'utilise de la porcelaine unie. L'effet final me plait bien de près.

Un vent frais et printanier semble souffler doucement.

Dans le zhong, la particularité de ce thé vert saute aux yeux maintenant. Les feuilles qui s'ouvrent sont entières. Cela facilite grandement le versement dans les coupes. (Avec du Shincha, les feuilles sont hachées et il est difficile de filtrer le thé en utilisant simplement le couvercle du gaibei.)

Au nez, on retrouve les caractéristiques marines et végétales d'un Shincha. C'est un peu plus fin et moins fort.

Le goût est plus léger et presque sans astringence. Cette finesse rappelle le thé vert (entier) chinois!

Je remercie un lecteur de m'avoir fait découvrir ce thé. (Vielen Dank Kim!) La moindre des choses était que je partage cette découverte avec vous tous!

Et pour en savoir plus et voir comment ce thé est fait, je vous recommande cette vidéo.

3 Al Gu Dae bowls and an experiment

The 3 bowls I'm presenting here were made by David Louveau de la Guigneraye. He is a French potter who works with natural clays (Earth) and 2 wood and a gas kilns (Fire). This first unglazed bowl was fired with gas. It looks a shiny and the touch is rough and hard. The large foot reminds me of a Tai Chi's sculpture by Ju Ming. It has a very martial and powerful spirit.

Matt from Mattcha's Blog tells us more about this bowl shape:

"The 'Hal Gu Dae' style, which originated in sixteenth century Korea, is a very difficult style to pull off and, perhaps for this reason, is rarely attempted by the master potters of today. It is characterized by its famous eye-catching foot and the balance that it creates with the main body of the bowl. The original 'Hal Gu Dae' foot has four protruding extensions forming a hollowed-out cross that can be seen on the very bottom of the foot if you flip the bowl over.

This style of foot has a inclination to overwhelm the grace and naturalness of a bowl. The challenge is to make such a monstrous and pompous foot look harmonious, natural, and more modest- not as easy as it sounds."

This second bowl (above) was glazed (white) and wood fired for 2 days and then got another 3 days of rest to cool down. It came out of the kiln on August 5, 2009. (The picture was taken after reopening the kiln). You can see the very top of it below in the middle of the picture left. It stood just right in front of the main fire. That's why one the sides facing the fire and the inside are so dark.

Its surface tells a story of suffering and resistance. It received the full strength of the fire and lots of ash deposits. The red colors one sees here and there are like fire on ice. Its touch is cold and smooth, but not entirely.

This bowl has a wider shape and its feet were shrinked at the base. Thereby, the feet appear smaller. This is also emphasized by the light color.

This last raw (unglazed, except near the foot) Al Gu Dae bowl was wood fired together with the one above. You can see it below on the far left of the picture in the kiln. It looks the most natural and its touch also feels much smoother than the gas fired bowl. I would almost say that this one feels like wood while the gas fired bowl feels metallic. The bowl closes before it opens again at the rim. This allows to hold it very comfortably with both hands.

Overall, this feels and looks the more harmonious of the three.

One of the reasons I brought these 3 bowls back to Taiwan is to study how to differentiate the firing methods and see how they impact the taste of tea. (I've also used them in my Cha Xi for aesthetic purpose).

Nowadays, almost all modern tea accessories one can find are gas fired. Wood is a much more expensive heat source. It's very difficult to control. Is it just a gimmick to be different or to follow the traditional methods for nostalgic reasons? Or does wood firing have an impact on the taste of tea?

Here, I'm testing all three bowls with my 2009 Spring 'lily' Baozhong. 5 gram per bowl and 3 gram for the smaller white competition bowl that I use as a reference. (It's important to preheat these big bowls well when brewing directly in them.)

1. Gas fired bow:

I taste more sweetness than with the porcelain, but also some astringency and bitterness after several seconds. The aftertaste somewhat feels stuck at the back of the mouth. But it has a nice power.

The tea also tastes more 'qing' or raw, not so easy on the stomach.

2. Glazed and wood fired

The tea tastes finer, more natural and lighter. The porcelain competition cup tastes rougher, more immediate. This one takes a second or 2 more to appear and does so with more grace. Sweet.

3. Unglazed and wood fired.

The tea tastes fine, light and like filtered. No 'qing', raw taste from this bowl. The tea slides easily down the mouth and throat. No astringency or bitterness. The tea is one and pure. This was already quite a pleasant surprise. Even better is the long mellow aftertaste. It fills the whole mouth again with recurring tastes and fragrances.

I have repeated this test with Qizhong Oolong and even with a potter in Yingge. Each time, this unglazed wood fired would perform better than the gas fired bowls. No wonder then that antique accessories (all wood fired) have something that modern pieces lack. It's not just aesthetics. The natural wood fire and clay remain true and close to nature. Tea interacts better with such material.

(Thank you David! Continue to amaze us and follow the traditional way to make accessories that will fit well with tea.)