Let’s make tea with a Soviet samovar
Robust aged oolong + the finest in socialist tea technology.
With age comes beauty
The tea: 2014 Tan Xiang Mi Lan dancong oolong, sold by Tea Habitat. $40 for 2oz.
Redolent of ripe fruits and flowers, dancong oolongs from the Phoenix region of Guangdong are usually drunk fresh. The tea is picked in spring, roasted over several months, and sold within a year or two, when its fantastic fragrance is most intense. However there’s something about aged versions of the style that call to me. I’ve only had a few from the private stashes of experienced collectors, and what they lose in upfront aroma, they gain in rich body, as well as a subtle earthy quality that (to me) deepens the tea’s flavor. There’s an ingredient perfumers use called ambergris, which is a waxy, foul-smelling mass secreted from the bile ducts of sperm whales. As it ages, the ambergris sweetens, and it has the power to enhance and extend the longevity of fine perfume. I think aging dancong can work in much the same way. You may not love it, but you should try it once or twice.
I’m featuring this 10-year-old dancong for three reasons: it’s pretty good, the seller only has a few bags left, and the remaining ones are currently on sale for more than 28% off. You don’t find many examples of aged dancong on the Western market, so when I encounter some, I like to pounce. This tea is a good all-day drinker. The leaves keep going and going, and even once they seem spent, you can pop them in a thermos to continue enjoying their flavors of wood, honey, and fresh flowers. A compelling value for the price.
The source: Tea Habitat is my go-to source for dancong in the United States. Owner Imen Shan stocks the largest selection and finds delicious productions year after year. I recommend a private tasting if you’re in the Los Angeles area. Imen is a firecracker in person: quick with a joke or nugget of tea knowledge, and she brews pot after pot of tea even faster. I left my session vibrating with caffeine and good tea energy. My friend Bill Addison has a great profile of Imen in the Los Angeles Times that’s worth a read. I will note that Tea Habitat’s teas don’t come cheap. With dancong, you get what you pay for. I like to splurge on some good stuff and bust it out for special occasions.
To brew: If brewing in a small pot or gaiwan, blazing hot water and fast steeps are the key to enjoying this tea. I use 5 grams in an 80 milliliter pot (1g/16ml) for a soothing and balanced brew. Intrepid drinkers could dose much higher, packing the pot with leaves. The resulting brew is rocket fuel, but very good. After a rinse, I start with 5 second steeps, lengthening the time as I go. This particular tea lasts much longer than most dancongs and is less likely to turn bitter, so it’s forgiving for newcomers. Still, if brewing in a mug or larger pot, keep an eye on your cup; the leaves can turn fiery on you. Imen describes the flavor of this tea as sandalwood and cinnamon, and I think that’s spot on. A gentle but persistent orchid note blooms in the back of the throat, as if to remind you that aging aside, this tea is distinctively dancong.
A sit by the samovar
Ever since my first Doestoevsky novel, I’ve fantasized about late nights of gossip and lachrymose speeches with the comrades in some porcelain-bedecked Moscow drawing room. Russian novels and plays are full of such scenes. Characters speak in paragraphs about art, love, and death, their crackling wit matched only by boundless despair and restless ennui. The vibes are, as the kids say, immaculate. And the fuel for such parlor scenes isn’t vodka—it’s tea.
The Russian people have had a famous thirst for tea since the 17th century, when the drink was introduced to the empire from China. Originally a treat for aristocrats, tea became popular with the common folk by the 19th century, in part thanks to its promotion in literary works by Gogol, Tolstoy, and Chekhov. Black tea, mainly, was brewed strong and sipped with sugar or jam, as well as an array of sweets. Serving tea became a sign of gracious hospitality, not to mention the lengths and expense a host would undertake to provide a memorable experience. There is an expression, “to sit by the samovar,” which refers to the act of drinking tea together, and of using lengthy sessions as a medium for building relationships and spilling secrets. To many Russians, the samovar—a hot water boiler with a built-in tap—is as essential to tea as the leaf itself. The technology has a long history through Central Asia and as far south as Iran, though in Russia it’s practically a national icon.
Keep reading with a 7-day free trial
Subscribe to Leafhopper to keep reading this post and get 7 days of free access to the full post archives.