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I haven’t had many green Dong Dings, as the roasted ones are so much easier to find. Thanks, Fong Mong, for the sample. I steeped 6 g of leaf in a 120 ml teapot at 190F for 25, 20, 25, 30, 30, 30, 45, 60, 90, 120, and 240 seconds.

In the pot, the tea smells like char, roast, and honey. The first steep is surprisingly smooth and buttery, with hints of honey, nuts, grain, and roast. The aftertaste is a bit drying. Steeps two and three continue in this vein, with hints of caramel and chestnut. By steep five, a vegetal quality emerges and the roast becomes sharper.

When I saw this was a green Dong Ding, I didn’t expect any roast at all; I was certainly in for a surprise. Though the roast wasn’t heavy, it definitely imparted a charcoal, nutty flavour. According to my very limited Chinese, “Tian Xiang” translates to “heavenly aroma,” and as promised, the smell was a highlight. I’m not sure I’d buy this again, but it was a tasty Dong Ding that’s perfect for the increasingly cold weather.

To my knowledge, this is the first time I’ve had a tea from the Tsui Yu cultivar. Thanks to Fong Mong for furthering my education! I steeped 6 g of leaf in a 120 ml teapot at 190F for 25, 20, 25, 30, 30, 30, 45, 60, 90, 120, and 240 seconds.

In the teapot, the dry, smaller-than-usual green balls smell like sweet caramel and flowers. The first steep is unusually sweet. I might actually have to use the cotton candy flavour descriptor, which is something I never thought would come in handy. Notes include honeydew, apple, caramel, cream, flowers, grass, and herbs. The second steep, which I drank cold, had more herbaceous and coriander flavours, though it was still caramel and sweet.

The next couple steeps are pretty similar. By steep five, however, the fruitiness and caramel start to dwindle, to be replaced by a slightly sweet, herbaceous, and vegetal brew with a floral aftertaste.

The first three or four steeps of this tea are unique and tasty, especially for those with a sweet tooth. However, this tea fades quickly and might be better suited for Western or grandpa brewing.

Back in 2015 when I was just getting into tea, I picked up 100 g of a Singell first flush Darjeeling from what was then Golden Tips Tea and was blown away. I’ve been plotting to get my hands on another one ever since. Judging from the previous seven-year-old tasting note, Camellia Sinensis carries this regularly. I steeped about 1.5 teaspoons of leaf in a 355 ml mug at 200F for 3.5 and 5 minutes.

This is definitely a first flush tea. I get strong herbaceous notes (thyme?) backed by sap, minerals, and light florals. There’s no muscatel or other fruit. Although the range of flavours is small, this tea is exceptionally smooth and balanced and has little astringency. The second steep is almost as good as the first.

Though it didn’t live up to my transcendent experience with Singell in 2015, this is a very nice first flush Darjeeling, especially for those who like their teas on the greener side. Despite not being able to pinpoint all the flavours, I’ve had it four times in the past week or so, which is unusually consistent for a leafhopper like me. However, the Thurbo Darjeeling, with its muscatel flavours, is more my style, and I wish I’d bought more of it instead. I should just accept that I prefer later-invoice first flushes and second flush Darjeelings, in spite of the cachet of early-invoice FFs.

I bought this tea during my big Tie Guan Yin restocking this spring. The price, $6 for 50 g, gave me pause, but it’s Yunnan Sourcing, so how bad could it be? I also recalled reading a review that praised a previous harvest, so into my cart it went. I steeped 6 g of tea in a 120 ml teapot at 190F for 10, 12, 15, 18, 20, 25, 30, 40, 60, 90, and 120 seconds.

In the teapot, the dry aroma is kind of like sweaty socks. More charitably, I can detect funky zucchini, citrus, grass, and orchids. The first steep has notes of grass, citrus, slightly off zucchini, stewed tomatoes, tomato vine, and pungent orchids. The best part of this steep by far is the aftertaste, which is long and peachy, though that squashy funk also makes a reappearance. The next few steeps are similar, gaining more vegetal, herbaceous, grassy, and floral flavours. Thankfully, the squash sort of dissipates by steep five or so, but finishing the session was a struggle.

I tried this tea Western (3 g, 355 ml, 2.5/4/6 minutes) and it just shortened the misery.

This is a very grassy Tie Guan Yin featuring a rather unfortunate combination of citrus and zucchini. I have around 35 g left and honestly, the thought of finishing the bag depresses me. YS has excellent premium and imperial TGYs, and I’m not sure if this harvest is an anomaly. However, based on this tasting, there are much better budget Tie Guan Yins out there.

During my first forrays into tea, I bought a sample of what I suspect was an inferior Liu An Gua Pian, and then I mistreated it terribly. Thinking it was something else, I dumped boiling water on it and kept it in my Finum infuser for five minutes. (I’m sure you’re all reporting me to the tea equivalent of PETA now.) I chose this TeaVivre sample partly to make amends, and partly because even with my non-traditional brewing methods, that tea tasted good.

I followed TeaVivre’s instructions and steeped about 3.5 g in a 120 ml teapot at 185F for 30, 60, 90, 120, and 240 seconds.

In the teapot, this smells like the popped rice used in genmaicha, with a bit of florals and seaweed in the background. The first steep has quite a punch, with notes of seaweed, iodine, florals, toasted rice, spinach, and kale, and a long, drying aftertaste. The second steep has a good balance of sweet, vegetable, and umami flavours. There are other vegetable notes in this tea, maybe green peas and asparagus, but I’m having trouble picking them out. The next couple steeps are sweet, vegetal, and a bit mineral and drying. The final steep, which was not in TeaVivre’s instructions, was still tasty and refreshing.

A lot less subtle than many green teas, Liu An Gua Pian might be more up my alley. Judging from the reviews, my experience of tasting seaweed and toasted rice seems to be unusual, but maybe it’s because of the slightly hotter water? I might not want 100 g of it, but I’ll have no problem finishing the rest of my sample.

Shan Lin Xi is my favourite tea region, so thanks to Fong Mong for providing this sample. According to the attached brewing instructions, this tea is from Zhushan, which I didn’t know was part of the Shan Lin Xi region. This tea seems to be high quality, with uniform, loosely rolled green nuggets; it even has an oxidizer packet to ensure freshness. I steeped about 6 g of leaf in a 120 ml teapot at 190F for 25, 20, 25, 30, 30, 30, 45, 60, 90, 120, and 240 seconds.

The smell of the dry leaves in the teapot is of honey, flowers, and the balsam note associated with SLX. The first steep has notes of flowers, honey, apple, grass, and cream. In a previous review, Ken pointed out a nutmeg component, and while my palate isn’t that refined, there’s definitely a bit of spice. There’s no astringency and the body is slick. The second steep is even more intense and has the piney balsam taste I could detect in the aroma. This combo lasts into the sixth steep, after which the tea loses its fruity and balsam components and becomes mostly honey and florals, with vegetal notes slowly sneaking in at the end of the session.

This tea is fantastic, especially for its price. I got lots of honey, balsam, fruit, and florals, and very few of the off notes that plague high-mountain oolongs, such as seaweed, spinach, veggies, and excessive astringency, and then only near the end of the session. I’ve had much more expensive oolongs that I’ve liked considerably less than this one, and I’ll probably order an entire package when I can justify buying more tea.

For a fan of Taiwanese oolongs, I haven’t gotten around to trying many Taiwanese blacks. Thanks to Fong Mong for the sample. I steeped 6 g of leaf in a 120 ml teapot at 185F for 10, 12, 15, 18, 20, 25, 30, 40, 50, 60, 90, 120, and 240 seconds.

In the pot, the long, wiry leaves smell like grapes, sassafras, and malt. The first steep is a coppery combination of tannins, sweet grape, sassafras, cinnamon, wood, and malt, with a long, drying finish and a bit of a menthol tingle. Unlike other Ruby 18s I’ve tried, this one doesn’t taste like liquorice (which is a good thing in my books). In the second steep, the grape gets even sweeter, almost like grape jelly, and lingers into the aftertaste.

Steeping this tea at 180F reduces the astringency and makes the grape and sassafras pop even more. By the fifth steep, malt, minerals, and some vegetal notes start becoming more prominent, though the lovely grape/sassafras combination is still very much there. It only starts to dwindle in the final couple steeps, which shows great longevity for a black tea.

This is an approachable, sweet, and long-lasting Ruby 18 with lots of flavour (and caffeine). It doesn’t have the overwhelming astringency that I’ve found in other Taiwanese blacks, especially if brewed at lower temperatures. It’s also a good value for the price.

ETA: I don’t know why there isn’t a flavour option for sassafras. Should I put it under something else?

I wrote most of this review last night, but got sidetracked by the U.S. election, for which this tea turned out to be a perfect accompaniment.

I thought a roasted Tie Guan Yin would be perfect on this rainy fall day. Thanks to Fong Mong for the sample. I steeped 6 g of leaf in a 120 ml teapot at 190F for 25, 20, 25, 30, 30, 30, 45, 60, 90, 120, and 240 seconds.

In the teapot, the dry leaves smell like smoke, roast, wood, caramel, and walnuts. The first steep is sweeter than I expected, with warm notes of roasted grain, caramel, wood, and a bit of char. The sip starts off sweet and then becomes roasty, returning to sweet in the aftertaste. The second steep has additional notes of honey, banana bread, and nuts. These flavours continue well into the session, with minerals and some astringency appearing around steep six. The last few steeps are all about the smoke and roast, but with enough toasted grain sweetness to make them enjoyable.

This is a very complex, satisfying Taiwanese Tie Guan Yin that I wouldn’t mind having on hand this winter.

Thanks to Fong Mong Tea for providing this sample. I steeped about 7 g of leaf in a 120 ml teapot at 190F for 25, 20, 25, 30, 30, 45, 60, 90, 120, and 240 seconds.

In the pot, these small green pellets have a lovely spring flower aroma. The first steep is fairly light, with notes of flowers, butter, grass, and a bit of vanilla. In the second steep, the florals, maybe orange blossom and gardenia, become stronger, and I also taste vanilla, light citrus, stonefruit, and coriander. There’s also a slight tongue-coating astringency. In the next few steeps, the liquor gets more vegetal and many of the other flavours fade into the background, but a nice creamy floral aftertaste persists.

In the first part of the session, I thought this was one of the best Four Seasons oolongs I’d tried. But because this tea seems to pack its flavour into the first few steeps, it might do better Western or cold brewed, where the number of infusions matters less. Either way, this tea is fairly inexpensive and its initial complexity might compensate for the lack of longevity.

How could I resist another bug-bitten green oolong, especially when the name suggested it’d be fruity? Of course, this made it into my cart in 2017. 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.

The wet leaf aroma is of mandarin oranges and flowers. The first steep has notes of flowers (maybe lilac or osmanthus), cream, grass, and a hint of orange, but nowhere near what appears in the aroma. Steep two gets slightly more astringent, but also creamier and more floral, in a lilac/sweet pea way that weirdly reminds me of baozhong. The orange is still really subtle and mixes with grass in the aftertaste. The next few rounds highlight the orange a bit more before acquiring spinach and vegetal flavours around the sixth steep.

At its best, this tea tastes like a floral mandarin orange creamsicle, but I don’t think I have the brewing parameters quite right. I might raise the temperature in my final session to see if it brings out the orange.