Which sounds absurd.
I didn't intend to take this long to get through this tea, but that's worth 9 solid infusions. And each infusion brought something completely different—and I had to spend time thinking about each one.
I'm not going to go into deep detail with each. However, this is actually one of the most interesting and breath-taking sheng pu'ehrs I've ever had.
So what makes this fascinating is that I feel this is quite "early" for a raw pu'ehr. You can taste the youth. And what I had was a moment in time.
And I had an epiphany. In our world where everyone wants a consistent, uniform experience—something where a Starbucks coffee will be a Starbucks coffee today and tomorrow and a year from now—this tea defies that notion. Laughs at it. Because the first pour is nothing like the last.
There is something meditative about this, something that goes beyond tea.
I'll wait a few more years before I have this tea again. It's something that demands to grow old with you.
So here's a better look at my Bada Mountain Big Tree Fate Cheng pu'ehr tea.
First, this is the cake. You can tell it's a sheng (raw) pu'ehr because the leaves are lighter than a shou (ripe). Although at 11 years old, it's mostly brown, there's some red, being, slight traces of white.
When you have a cake, the fun is is cracking it open with a pick. So stabbed my gold pick horizontally from the inside, put in something like 5g of leaves into my super tiny brownish-red clay teapot—reserved *only* for pu'ehr.
After two infusions, the leaves expanded big time—as you can see here.
Two infusions in, I noticed that the liquor was still pale. Almost the same colour as a white tea or oolong. Did I screw up by breaking this open after 11 year? Should I have waited longer?
After giving this a good long taste, carefully letting it swish around my mouth for awhile, then letting everything linger after a swallow...
...No, I most definitely did not screw up.
This is where I want to be. This is what sheng pu'ehr can give you that shou pu'ehr cannot. I'm talking about natural youth.
Because, sure, I might not want to drink this at 5-years-old. But at 11-years-old? This is has crisp and a whole lot of snap. Not earthy like a shou, but it tastes like autumn leaves that have settled on the ground for awhile—something you'd sweep up mid-November.
Now when you have a lot of things going on like I do—big life things I have to contemplate—it really means something to be able to settle down, take a breather, let gongfu have its way.
You see, some things are only worthwhile if you give it time and attention. You'll miss out on a whole lot if you only ever look for a quick pick-me-up. Drinking this pu'ehr is like going on a hike, spending some time watching chipmunks grab a few nuts, listening to the birds make their calls. That's what this is all about.
The other thing—never let price fool you. Sure, I bought this 200g cake for $14.99. So you think, "What's the catch?"—which is a valid question to ask if you don't know your vendor.
But Daniel and I have now known each other for 17 years. He's never done me wrong. And every single one of his teas have been exceptional—no matter the price.
So thanks, Daniel, for a stellar Wednesday afternoon.
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