2008 Jing Gu Factory Run Ling 8545 Pu-erh

Finally! Spring has arrived and the clouds have retreated for a few days. This means I've got a chance to take a few photos of the lovely spring blossoms, and it also makes for better tea photos!

To punctuate the crisp and vibrant change in season, a generous sample of 2008 sheng from Seven Cups. I've been eying their sheng pu-erh selection for a while--there are some interesting-looking cakes from some factories I've never heard of, which is intriguing. It's tough to get hopes up too high, though, considering the recent pu-erh boom and proliferation of mediocre pu-erh producers that have sprung up. According to the Seven Cups blog, though, Jing Gu Factory used to represent a standard of quality, and has recently been reopened. Let's see if the claim "the tea is great and the prices are really reasonable" holds up.

The cake is 2008's Jing Gu Run Ling 8545. Don't know what "Run Ling" means, but it sounds like this is a recipe that dates to 1985, so long as Jing Gu is adhering to the standard blend recipe notation. The leaves look really promising--some nice large, complete leaves are visible, and there are plenty of buds. No smokiness whatsoever comes off the dry (or wet) leaves, which is fine by me. I'm not opposed to smokiness in a young pu-erh, but would probably prefer that it wasn't there--it can take 10 years or more of Chinese or Taiwanese storage before the smoke disappears, and I can't imagine USA storage is going to beat that, plus it's more pleasant to drink a young pu-erh that doesn't taste like smoke.

Luckily, I had enough leaves to brew this pu-erh twice. The first session was intriguing but ultimately disappointing--a first steep revealed a dewy, light green and slightly bitter liquor with medium mouthfeel and some fresh-tasting sweetness. In a lot of ways, it at first reminded me of Xi-Zhi Hao's 2007 Autumn Nu Er Cha in its light, airy sweetness, if not nearly as complex. A couple more steeps brought on some more hay-like elements into the mix, but soon I felt like the tea was running out of gas. Adding more time only thinned out the liquor and brought on mouth-coating astringency. Though it's really nice to see that more factories are taking care with their processing and taking the smoke out of the equation, I expect a little more oomph out of a young sheng pu-erh if it's going to hold my interest. Today I brewed the tea again--this time, as Hobbes would say, I "showed it a strong hand," loading the pot with more leaves and giving slightly longer infusion times early on (10+ seconds, rather than roughly flash infusions). This definitely improved the experience--flavors were more vibrant, giving off a really dripping sweet freshness and a bitterness that easily sweetens without much of a wait. Unfurled leaves confirm that some care went into blending and processing this mao cha. For me, this is a tea of high notes that doesn't really pack the lower punch that makes a really balanced pu-erh, but I could see myself drinking it again. After the second session, it changed from a tea I was glad to have tried but wasn't interested in purchasing to one I may pick up a cake of to see how it progresses in a couple years.

Compared to the 2007 Xi-Zhi Hao 8582 I was drinking earlier today, it seems quite polite and reserved, and less complex as well. I don't yet have any firm knowledge about which tea makes a better candidate for aging--I like to think that perhaps both styles have their own merits, though these "drinkable now" pu-erhs seem to be a pretty recent development. Time will tell, of course. At$26.70 per cake, it's a much better price point than the aforementioned Nu Er Cha, so it might be worthwhile for the purposes of experimentation to see what happens to it.

2007 Light Roast Tie Luo Han from Seven Cups

I recently purchased several "light roast" Wuyi yen cha from Seven Cups that I received along with the two Bai Ji Guan samples. Lightly roasted yen cha are rarer than medium and "traditional" roasted teas, and since Seven Cups features several light roast teas, I figured I had some learning to do with my first purchase. My previous experiences with such oolongs have been very good--generally the flavor leans a little more to subtlety but a little away from complexity, as the roasting doesn't compete quite as much with the tea's inherent flavor characteristics.

Tie Luo Han is one of the Si Da Ming Cong (4 famous yen cha cultivars) and the name is usually translated as "Iron Warrior Monk." Seven Cups translates it as "Iron Arhat." "Arhat" is usually used to describe leading disciples of a buddha (though the term also applies to the buddha as well)--when the buddha reaches enlightenment and attains nirvana, so too do the arhats through his teaching. Some scholars will Christocentrically explain that arhats are "the saints of buddhism," though this analogy (like most of its kind) is probably more misleading than it is helpful, though it is apt on a thin surface level. I've always liked to think of this tea as the male version of the famous Tie Guan Yin, which is an even less apt analogy for every reason except the similarity between the names. Back to the matter at hand, this Tie Luo Han turned out to be a real gem.



The dry leaves are thick, long and complete, which is what I love to see with yen cha--it means whoever sold it to me took really good care of it. The leaves' gray/green coloration only comes through slightly in the pictures (surprise, surprise; I think it's time to embrace my camera's many flaws and play off my grainy tea photos as a "lo fi" artistic statement). Since the tea's obviously pretty green, I use less leaf than I would with a roastier yen cha, filling the pot roughly half full. I also infuse for about 15 seconds to start with (rather than flash-infusing) to get the best flavor.

Mmm-boy, this one is a winner. The honey-colored liquor yields a delicious assortment of dried fruit flavors reminiscent of raisins and dates, as well as a dark cooked apple-like feeling (thanks to Authoritea for encouraging me to buy this tea sooner). The wet leaves echo this experience but add a savory grain-like aroma to the mix. In the fair cup, the aroma is achingly honeyed with a wee bit of spice; I think the very successful light roasting for this tea really brought out a different character. Usually Tie Luo Han gets heavy traditional roasting, which can have its merits, but with this much underlying tea flavor, it's nice not to have the competition of a strong roast obscuring the tea show. With the second and third infusions, the liquor becomes dense and buttery, which is the aspect of these light roasted oolongs that keeps me coming back over and over again. The tea goes about 7 or 8 infusions before thinning to the point of simplicity, though I'd probably find at least a little enjoyment out of 10+ infusions. The mouthfeel was pretty pleasant for most of the session, with an acceptable astringency peaking around the third go.


The wet leaves behave interestingly--some remain tightly twisted, some pop open completely, and some remain in limbo between both extremes. It's also easy to see that the oxidation doesn't seem to be too heavy, just sort of creeping into the edges of the bruised leaves. I don't feel like I'm any closer to understanding what the archetypal Tie Luo Han tastes like (I most certainly could not pick a Tie Luo Han blind out of a line-up, or probably even say what makes three different Tie Luo Han teas similar to each other), but I can say that I found this specific one extremely pleasant to drink. Despite the fact that it's light-roast and 2 years old, it's still holding up better than the 2007 Bai Ji Guan I tasted from Seven Cups--and it's on sale! I may have to get some more.

Bai Ji Guan Trifecta

Ok, so that's not what trifecta means, but it sounds cool, so sometimes I use it to describe three of something. Bai Ji Guan means white cockscomb, which is that thing on a rooster's head, and it's one of the Si Da Ming Cong, or the four famous Yen Cha cultivars (the others being Da Hong Pao, Shui Jin Gui, and Tie Luo Han). There are a few things that are almost always said when describing Bai Ji Guan, so I'll get them out of the way in attempts to avoid dwelling on the same old same old. The first is that the tea gets its name from a legend about a rooster that died protecting its chicks, or some such story, or that the tea is so named because its leaves actually resemble a rooster's crest. Tea naming legends don't really interest me very much, though the physical appearance of Bai Ji Guan's leaves is quite striking in comparison with other teas--they are generally a much paler yellow, are rather small and almost seem a little more translucent. The second thing that people always seem to mention when describing Bai Ji Guan is that it's the rarest of the Si Da Ming Cong. Seven Cups offers more information than most regarding why this is (the cultivar's touchiness to growing and climate conditions and the sensitive and limited harvest window), but most vendors are content to leave it at "rare." From personal experience, Bai Ji Guan is quite rare insofar as its availability to the West is concerned; few online sellers even offer a Bai Ji Guan, and if they do it's usually quite expensive. It's also pretty difficult to find more than the cursory information I've already mentioned and few bloggers have posted experiences about the tea.

Why the Bai Ji Guan obsession? Hou De used to sell a Bai Ji Guan from 2004; I encountered it near the beginning of my blossoming passion for yen cha (a little less than a year ago) and was blown away by its flavor--different from every other yen cha I've tried, with a vibrant fruity/floral acidity that floated lightly over the tea's obviously skillful roasting job. Well, Hou De eventually sold out of the tea and, though I've got a bit tucked away, I've been on a search for more of the same ever since. The catch is, though, I have yet to encounter another Bai Ji Guan that is even processed in the same manner, let alone as high-quality. In some ways, my Bai Ji Guan quest is the ultimate microcosm of my intentions with this blog--my quest to find more Bai Ji Guan has also been a quest to understand what exactly the characteristics of authentic Bai Ji Guan are, and how and where I can get more of the one that caught my taste buds. Unfortunately my attempts to prolong the magic have thus far been thwarted--of four other Bai Ji Guans I've tried, none have even come close to the style of Hou De's. I have, however, learned quite a bit about what seem to be the tea's hallmark characteristics. Here I'd like to humbly share what little I've learned from my attempts, in case you've heard of Bai Ji Guan but haven't wanted to shell out the big bucks to try it. Tasting notes for three examples follow.

The well-informed and generous staff at Seven Cups were kind enough to include samples of both their 2007 Bai Ji Guan and their 2008 Bai Ji Guan with a recent order. Before I launch into my notes and impressions, I'll say that the difference between Hou De's Bai Ji Guan and every single other one I've tried (including one from Teaspring) has been roasting--all the others have been comparatively extremely lightly roasted, which imparts a totally different flavor and aroma. As I inspected the greenish brown leaves of Seven Cups' 2007 tea, I immediately knew I wasn't going to find my elusive tea, but I eagerly anticipated a chance to try another piece of the puzzle. Please forgive the quality of the pictures--clouds make for dull natural light, so the colors aren't quite as vibrant as they appear to the naked eye, but flashes are so harsh. The leaves are complete but small (especially for yen cha). A common denominator I've noticed with all examples I've tried is that the dry leaves are two-toned--one dark and one lighter and yellowish. As you can see in both pictures, they're a delight to behold and I could personally spend hours inspecting the delightful intricacies of each leaf.

After a few experiences, I've learned to brew Bai Ji Guan differently from other yen cha. Usually I'll stuff the pot over half full with leaves and flash infuse the teas for the first four infusions, increasing by 10-15 seconds on each later infusion. This tea's lighter roasting changes the rules, though, and that much leaf just makes the tea too strong in an unpleasant way (unlike the strength of a heavier-roasted yen cha, which I find pleasant, if quite powerful). So, as I try to understand this tea's needs I've had better results with about a one third-full pot and a slightly longer first infusion (15 or so seconds), dropping down to 5ish for the next few, then climbing back up as taste determines. I wish I could go in-depth with this 2007 tea, but unfortunately the results were pretty disappointing. Brewed with my trusty yen cha setup (zhuni pot and celadon pitcher and cup), the aroma and flavor were familiar and immediately recognizable as kindred to the other light-roast Bai Ji Guans I've tried. It's got a totally unique oolong flavor, and there's really little to know noticeable relationship to your average yen cha. You might as well be drinking alien tea, but please don't ask me what alien tea tastes like (I am not at liberty to either confirm or disconfirm the existence of alien tea). There's a savory vegetal aroma that immediately emanates from the leaves, offering a light honeysuckle sweetness that is immediately accessible. In some ways this tea is reminiscent of green tea in aroma and flavor, but with an oolong's body, complexity and longevity. Sadly, my experience with Seven Cups' 2007 example didn't go so hot--the first infusion confirmed my expectations for the tea and gave me enough information to say "Yep, it's Bai Ji Guan," but the flavor seemed shy. Though this isn't uncommon in first infusions, the tea never really increased in potency as the session wore on--insipidity came on pretty quickly (around the 4th or 5th go) and a several minute infusion even failed to produce much flavor. I'm wholeheartedly open to the prospect that my preparation of the tea could be the cause for these results, but I've prepared similar examples (including Seven Cups 2008 tea) in the same fashion with completely different (and successful results). Depending on storage conditions, 2 years could be just a little too long for this lightly-roasted tea, and I respectfully submit that this tea might be past its "sell by" date, especially considering the fact that $38/25g raises customer expectations considerably. Despite the tea's diminished power, it's still fun to take a look at the cashed leaves--I've noticed that the leaves often display widely varying color and oxidation, ranging from dark green leaves to pale, almost yellow ones, and the oxidation is always beautiful and easy to spot. If only the tea were a bit fresher.

Happily, Seven Cups' 2008 Bai Ji Guan fared much better compared to the previous year's harvest. According to the web site, the tea received a slightly higher roasting to prevent any grassy taste from the weather conditions on the day of harvest. Though the leaves are pretty similar in appearance, you can tell the difference in comparison of both photos (as well as in the liquor, which is a few shades darker). Even more so, the aroma and flavor betray the roasting. The same sweet, flowery and honeyed notes are there, but are complemented by the bewitching darker, woodier roasting element that only caramelized the floral aspects of the lighter-roasted version. In the flavor, the roast takes on a really pleasant chocolate-like sweetness. Though I drink a lot of yen cha, I don't tend to liken their darker aspects to chocolate, but here the description seems pretty direct. Like other fresh Bai Ji Guans I've tried, this one goes on and on, taking shorter infusions at the beginning with gentle results and yeilding up thinning but minutely evolving flavor with longer later infusions. Despite the longer infusions, the tea's astringency is neither unpleasant nor powerful, which is a plus. Unfortunately I didn't get a chance to photograph the spent leaves; though the first tea's flavor was weak, its caffeine apparently wasn't! By the time I finished both teas, I was levelled by caffeine and fled desperately in search of food and plain water. Needless to say, I was much more impressed with this example than the first, and I liked it enough to flirt with the idea of purchasing some, though I'll have to think it through a bit more, considering the price is similar to the 2007 tea.


Finally, we have Jing Tea Shop's 2008 Bai Ji Guan. Though this tea comes from 2008, its roasting seems to be lighter than Seven Cups'. Since I shelled out $78 for 100g of this tea, it is the Bai Ji Guan with which I've had the most experience. Unfortunately this included burning up a few pots' worth of tea with bad brewing parameters and mistakes. Expensive education! Thankfully, though, this experience allowed me a little more confidence in preparing my one-shot samples from Seven Cups. Though this tea didn't recapture my elusive Hou De lark, it is quite a pleasant tea to drink. Thick, syrupy liquor with plenty of flowery honey and an almost tingly mouthfeel. As pictured, the liquor resembles that of the first tea, though a bit darker because of the cup's depth (as Captain Beyond lurks above, awaiting play at the Stepping Stone's vinyl night). Like some others I've tried, it does seem to march on indefinitely above 10 infusions, which is certainly a plus. Usually I get worn out before the tea does! Astringency is again present, but in appropriate quantity and quality. The flavor of this tea is unique and pleasant, but as far as gong fu brewing goes, it's not especially dynamic, that is to say it doesn't make a whole lot of evolution flavor and aroma-wise throughout a session. So, at its premium price, I'm not sure I'll be rushing out to buy 100 more grams anytime soon, if I even go through my tea very quickly. Thankfully, Jing Tea Shop also offers 25g samples at a reasonably increased fraction of the 100g cost (reasonably priced samples of every tea is one of my favorite things about Jing Tea Shop, which is one of my go-to vendors for Chinese oolongs, greens, and sometimes pu-erh).


Overall, tasting these teas has been a very educational if not wholly satisfying pursuit. Though Bai Ji Guan is unique in flavor, I'm not sure the price is justified for my tastes. Today I actually dug out the remainder of the sample I purchased from Teaspring--if it compares favorably to Jing's (which in my memory it does) I might say that you should try Teaspring's instead of Jing's if you're curious, since it is considerably less expensive. Stay tuned for that update, if you're interested. I now feel like I've got a decent handle on what light-roast Bai Ji Guan is supposed to taste like. If (as according to Seven Cups) the tea is actually traditionally lightly-roasted, I suppose I can appreciate the tea's traditional processing, but I still yearn for the experience I've had with Hou De's 2004 Bai Ji Guan (I'll review a bit of my final stash in the future). The hunt continues.