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I bought this as part of a sampler of three organic teas from San Jing Farms a couple years ago. The tea has outlasted any online information about it, so I don’t know how well it ages or the preferred brewing parameters. I steeped 6 g of leaf in a 120 ml teapot at 195F for 10, 12, 16, 20, 25, 30, 40, 50, 60, 90, 120, and 240 seconds.

The large, dark, loosely rolled nuggets smell faintly of green grapes, honey, and cereal. Rye bread, nuts, and honey are the dominant notes in the first couple steeps, which is weird because the aroma in the teapot is of honey and eucalyptus. The third steep introduces the eucalyptus and a sour funkiness that I’m beginning to associate with purple teas. The mouthfeel is kind of astringent and tingly. The fourth steep gives the impression of tart jam (maybe gooseberry) on a honey-covered piece of rye bread. However, it’s a little too sour and not as sweet as jam would be.

By steep five, some wood, leather, and grass start to appear. The tea gradually loses its sweetness and becomes more like a dark, nutty banana bread. The flavours last until the final steeps, and I even got a couple long infusions before tossing the leaves.

This is a fascinating oolong with a lot of character, but I don’t love it. I’m drinking down my stash and am realizing why many of these teas are still there.

For someone who loves Taiwanese oolongs, I haven’t tried many Baozhongs, possibly because I’m unsure how to brew them. Thanks to Fong Mong for the sample, which is perfect for this cool spring day. I steeped 6 g of these long, mostly unbroken leaves in a 120 ml teapot at 176F for 25, 20, 25, 30, 30, 45, 60, 90, 120, and 240 seconds.

The dry aroma of this tea is intensely buttery and sweet pea floral. The first steep has sweet pea, lilac, butter, grass, and vegetal notes. The second is more herbaceous, with a long, floral aftertaste. Upping the temperature to 180F in the next few steeps brings out notes of pepper and what could be called lime; it also makes the tea more vegetal. The crisp, vegetal and floral balance persists until the end of the session.

This is a nice, uncomplicated tea that’s a cross between an oolong and a green. For me, the heady florals are the best part of the drinking experience, and the aroma lingers in the cup after the session is over.

I believe I bought this tea in 2015, possibly because it was on sale and I wanted to try something from Africa. I couldn’t have known what I was in for. I steeped 5 g of leaf in a 120 ml teapot at 195F for 10, 12, 16, 20, 25, 30, 40, 50, 60, 90, 120, and 240 seconds.

Whoa! These leaves are massive and twisty. “Handmade” is right! Dry, they smell like alcohol, veggies, and dark rye bread. The first steep has notes of pumpkin, carrot, malt, earth, wood, and tannin. The second steep adds citrus and herbs and is strangely creamy. Something like cabbage emerges in the next couple steeps, and the liquor becomes even more astringent. By steep five, it’s a mix of pumpkin, carrot, cabbage, and other veggies over an earthy, woody base. These flavours persist into the eighth steep before fading into generic black tea notes.

This is one of the strangest teas I’ve reviewed so far. I struggled to pinpoint the flavours, and judging from the two previous reviews on Steepster, others have found it quirky and complex as well. A daily drinker this is not, but I enjoyed the experience.

Last Sunday, a power outage ate my elaborate review of this tea, so I’m going on my fuzzy recollections. Always, always save your work, even if it’s just a tea review!

I never know how to brew white teas from the Indian subcontinent, so I used brewing instructions from the Camellia Sinensis website. I steeped 6 g of tea in a 120 ml teapot at 175F for 30, 20, 20, 30, 45, 60, 90, 120, and 240 seconds, plus a couple long, uncounted steeps.

The dry leaves smelled like flowers, oats, and grass. The first couple steeps had notes of autumn leaf pile, apricot, hay, oats, wildflowers, and grass, with a hint of smoke. The second steep had hints of smoked salmon, which thankfully disappeared as the session progressed. Later steeps lost the fruit and tended toward grass, oats, hay, and linen. There was also quite a bit of astringency.

Today, I steeped my remaining 3 g Western using 355 ml of water at 175F for 3, 5, 8, and 10 minutes. I don’t think I used enough leaf, as the flavours were pretty muddled. I got flowers, oats, grass, and something fruity that I couldn’t have identified as apricot if not for the gongfu session. If I’d just drank it this way, my rating would be lower.

This was a solid white tea with some interesting flavours, some good and some not so much. I’m glad to have tried it, but not sad to say goodbye.

As a fan of Tie Guan Yin oolong, I jumped at the chance to try a black version of this tea a few years ago. The product has been taken off the website, but I remember something about flash steeps, so I took this into account. I steeped 6 g of leaf in a 120 ml teapot at 195F for 7, 10, 12, 16, 20, 25, 30, 40, 50, 60, 90, 120, and 240 seconds.

The dry aroma of the dark, spindly leaves is surprisingly Tie Guan Yin like, with grain, caramel, honey, and bananas. The first steep has notes of malt, toasted grain, caramel, and banana. I can understand why flash steeps are important, as the mouthfeel is scratchy and a little astringent. The second steep is like tangy honey-covered banana bread that somehow dries out your mouth. There are malt and tannins in there too. The next few steeps start off with notes of honey, grain, plum, and spice, but the sip ends with a less palatable punch of malt, cardboard, minerals, and tannins. Sadly, these less desirable flavours take over as the session progresses, until, by the eighth steep, it tastes like a high-quality generic black tea.

I don’t know whether it was its age, the brewing parameters, my palate, or just the tea, but this red Tie Guan Yin started promisingly but ended badly. I think I’ll stick to Tie Guan Yin oolongs in the future.

Jin Xuan doesn’t get a lot of attention among Taiwanese oolong fans, possibly because much of it is of poor quality. This version is from Alishan, though, and I’m hoping it’ll be more interesting. It also goes without saying that it’s not one of those artificially scented Jin Xuans that I avoid like the plague. Thanks to Fong Mong for the sample. I steeped 7 g of leaf in a 120 ml teapot at 190F for 20, 15, 20, 25, 30, 40, 50, 60, 90, 120, and 240 seconds.

The dry, loosely rolled large nuggets have a subtle aroma of cream, corn, and flowers. The first steep has notes of cream, butter, gardenias, corn, corn husk, and grass. It reminds me of cream corn to a ridiculous extent, though with a vegetal aftertaste. The second steep morphs into soft peaches and cream with hints of gardenias and other flowers. There’s also butter and corn in the background. Needless to say, this tea is quite sweet.

The third steep returns to a floral cream corn with hints of cooked veggies like asparagus, while the next steep loses some of the corn and is heavily floral, almost perfumey. I love how this tea keeps changing! By steep five, the vegetal notes start becoming more prominent, although it’s still floral and creamy. The end of the session is almost entirely vegetal, with lettuce and asparagus in the foreground.

This is a sweet, nuanced Alishan oolong that even high mountain snobs like me can appreciate. I loved watching the flavours play musical chairs throughout my gongfu session. I highly recommend this tea, especially given its price point.

As I was digging through Tea Mountain (a.k.a. what used to be the bottom of my closet), I unearthed a few more teas that Fong Mong had sent me to review in the winter of 2018. Thanks for the samples, and I apologize for taking so long to get to them.

As my previous reviews have made clear, bug-bitten teas are my jam, so I was eager to try this roasted version. I steeped 6 g of leaf in a 120 ml teapot at 195F for 25, 20, 25, 30, 30, 30, 45, 60, 90, 120, and 240 seconds.

Dry, the dark green leaves smell like roast, honey, and faint florals. In the first steep, the roast is surprisingly subtle, and honey, floral, grain, and stonefruit notes are present. If I didn’t know better, I’d say this was a Dong Ding. The honey, peachy, and roasted grain notes become even clearer in the next couple steeps, as does a drying sensation in the mouth. There are also hints of nuts, wood, minerals, and char.

By steep five, the honey starts to fade into the background and the Dong Ding-like nuttiness and roast take over. Later steeps are full of minerals, walnut, and roast, but are still sweet and enjoyable.

I loved the honey, nutty, and stonefruit flavours in this tea, although I wish the fruit had stuck around a bit longer. The roast was a little strong for my liking, but it was never overpowering. This is a solid, comforting tea that I’m glad I was able to try.

When I was browsing this vendor’s website around Christmas 2018, it had three bug-bitten teas. Naturally, they all ended up in my cart. After Bai Hao, I love Gui Fei, and it’s usually a lot friendlier on the wallet. This one does not disappoint. Following the website’s instructions, I steeped 6 g of leaf in a 120 ml teapot at 212F for 15, 20, 25, 30, 35, 40, 50, 60, 90, 120, and 240 seconds, followed by a couple long, untimed infusions to extract all the flavour.

The dry tea leaves smell like honey, raisins, and flowers. The first steep has soft honey florals with raisins and a little stewed fruit, but is a bit watery. (Note to self: Fifteen seconds is too short.) The second steep is a bit more intensely fruity, with hints of grapes and baked apple. The next couple steeps get even more intense; tangy stewed fruit, baked bread, and particularly honey are the dominant flavours. Despite being brewed with boiling water, this Gui Fei isn’t astringent, as many others seem to be.

In the next few steeps, the liquor evens out into a gentle honey nectar. There are still baked bread and stewed fruit notes, but they’re secondary. Even the final few rounds are sweet and not vegetal or astringent, though some woodiness and dryness sneak in.

This is basically my ideal Gui Fei. It’s sweet, decadent, and undemanding, with all of the flavours I like and no off notes. Bug-bitten tea aficionados may find it a little predictable, but then again, that’s not always a bad thing.

I’m astonished that such an excellent tea has only one review. I intended to write about it back in January, but my kettle broke down midway through the session and I discovered this makes a wonderful cold brew. This time, with a new, working kettle, I steeped the six remaining grams of my 10 g sample at 200F for 7, 10, 12, 15, 18, 20, 25, 30, 40, 60, 90, 120, and 240 seconds.

The dry aroma is a glorious mix of caramel, malt, and citrus. The first steep has notes of caramel, malt, citrus, and plums. The second adds some sour woodiness, especially as it cools, although this doesn’t detract from the flavour. In the third and fourth steeps, I get some mild spices, kind of like a plum cake; brandy also comes to mind. The tea is a little soapy and a bit astringent if kept in the mouth for a long time.

The next few steeps retain the same profile, although the grapefruit and citrus undertones are more prominent. As the session progresses, it becomes more like a black tea, though the delightful plum notes persist. The last couple steeps have notes of faint plums, malt, earth, and tannins.

This is a thoroughly enjoyable tea that I’m sad has been out of stock for a while. Its over-the-top caramel and fruity flavours make it a decadent treat. I’ve also loved the black Dan Congs I’ve had from Yunnan Sourcing and Camellia Sinensis, and I’m beginning to consider this one of my favourite tea types.

I’m slowly and regretfully drinking down my old tea club boxes. This is the first unroasted Wuyi varietal oolong I’ve had, and it seems to be very unusual, especially for something grown in Taiwan. It’s also an heirloom strain with a unique flavour profile, as borne out in this review. I steeped 6 g of tea in a 120 ml teapot at 195F for 25, 20, 25, 30, 30, 30, 45, 60, 90, 120, and 240 seconds.

Prior to the first steep, the dry leaf smells like orchids, herbs, veggies, and cookies. The first steep has notes of orchids, peonies, spinach, herbs, and zucchini, and is not as sweet as the dry aroma promises. The mouthfeel and aftertaste are quite drying. The second steep has more vegetal sweetness, kind of like squash or bok choy. It’s an odd combination with all the florals.

The third and fourth steeps are less sweet and floral and more herbaceous, with some hints of coriander. The aftertaste is almost like a green tea. This green tea feeling continues in the next few steeps, with notes of spinach, squash, and bok choy predominating. The final steeps are almost entirely vegetal.

This tea starts off as a floral and herbaceous oolong, but quickly becomes vegetal and green tea-like. It’s unusual for sure, and while it’s fragrant and intriguing, there are too many veggies for me to love it. It’ll be interesting to compare it with the roasted version that’s also in my cupboard.