HOUJICHA green tea..

I first encountered this distinctive and unusual Japanese green tea last winter and decided to revisit it today since I was looking for something low in caffeine.  Almost all green teas in Japan are steamed to prevent oxidation (whereas in China currently the majority are fired -- pan frying, toasting in baskets, oven baking, etc).  Houjicha (sometimes spelled Hojicha) is both steamed and toasted, which give its dry leaves their warm brown fluffy look, its liquor the golden-brown colour and its distinctive strong toasty aroma and flavour.  The first three processing steps of Houjicha are the same as for Sencha: 1) Steaming, 2) Drying and Crumpling, and 3) Shaping. Then the tea goes through one special additional step: 4) Roasting in high heat.  The process was invented in Kyoto, Japan in the 1920s.

Warm brown lightly  fluffy dry leaves of
Houjicha from Tealish

Houjicha is usually made from bancha, a term to describe late harvest tea.  As such it's composed of larger, more mature leaves and, if from when the bushes are being trimmed to level them down, will include bits and pieces of twigs too.  Keep in mind that the tea bushes are machine harvested in Japan, not hand-plucked.  In general, bancha's considered a 'common' class or lower quality tea.  I really admire that there's a "use everything" approach to the tea plant though.  As the delicious osso bucco of Italy uses the tough leg hocks of the lamb to make a delicous meal, so tea growers have traditionally made use of every part of the plant and developed ways to process the material to make a delicious beverage.

There are a number of variables with houjicha -- some is made from grades of tea besides bancha, and it can be lightly or heavily toasted, creating different flavour profiles. In fact if you start looking around the Japanese tea sites (only those in english, in my case), you can see that hojicha is made from the leaves/twigs of all kinds of tea -- sencha, bancha, even gyokuro.  Which, of course, makes sense since all tea plants will have older leaves and twigs that are a shame to waste.


Houjicha is touted by the resource books I have and on many websites as being very low in caffeine which is usually accredited to the roasting process.  No scientific data is provided to support that though.  I'm a girl that likes such things.

We know that the further away you get from the leaf bud, and the later in the season it is harvested that there will be less caffeine in the leaves or plant parts.  This is because everything is concentrated in the youngest buds and the plant has more energy and focus in the spring.  All to say, I find the explanation on Tea Laden to make sense -- "Since the leaves used to make Bancha are coarser and contain some stalks and stems the resulting tea generally contains less caffeine or tannin then the finer grades of Japanese tea. Also the cup tends to be somewhat milder." 

Whether you prefer the science or the "roasting" story, I can report that I've not got much of a buzz after having two cups on each of the past two mornings.

In brewing the tea I took the advice of  the Japanese site Hibiki-an and brewed 7 grams of leaves in 7 oz of boiling water for 30 seconds.  For the second infusion I did 45 seconds.

I have to say that the dry leaves of this tea which I bought at Tealish last spring have a noticeable musty aroma followed closely by toasty and roasty.  It's the only Houjicha I've had so I don't know if this is usual.

Wet Leaves:
There's a rush of sweet vegetal that's gone in a nano second and then the full strong aroma of roasted coffee!  On a whiff it gives me the warm rich nutty aroma of a good dense wholewheat bread, followed by a bit of bitterness, mustyness, a truly distinct, odd, boiled-forest-twigs aroma.  I find myself vascillating between concentrating on breaking down and identifying the aromas and thinking good grief who the heck thought this was a good idea.

Houjicha -- the first, weaker brew.  Golden brown and
less red than most fully oxidised 'red' tea.

Liquor:
Light mouthfeel, no tartness, a big toasty, strong flavour, with a slight marine hint that's quite startling if you've never had this tea before.  There is an after-flavour of light bitterness which gives this some backbone.  It's a bitterness that doesn't taste bitter, which I know doesn't make sense.

On the second morning I tried this with milk, as if it was a black tea which rounded and sweetened the flavour profile but doesn't really enhance the tea -- wouldn't recommend it.  Hmmm, I can see how a committed coffee drinker might find this tasting like watery coffee grounds rather than a big-flavoured tea.  It has a somewhat similar taste profile without the big body of coffee.

I really want to love this low-caffeine tea but I don't -- but interestingly, when I gave my sister-in-law (not a big tea drinker) two other green teas and the hojicha to try she immediately liked the hojicha best.  A wonderful example of how tea tasting is such a personal journey.

Houjicha has a distinct, strong toasty flavour that is truly intriguing and unusual  -- so I know I'll be back to try it again.  After 3:30 or 4pm I'm always on the hunt for a delicious hot, low-caffeine beverage.

TAI PING HOU KUI (TAI PING BEST MONKEY)

Tai Ping Hou Kui green tea dry leaves.

This is an extraordinary looking green tea from China -- big, long leaves pressed flat and having the imprint of either paper or cotton on its leaves.  The dried leaves are whole and 2" and 3" in length -- unusally large for tea.  Another unusual aspect of this tea is that it's both pan fired and basket-fired.  Besides its toasty flavour, the leaves' crispy flatness hints that it's pan-fired -- pressed into a wok-like hot pan. But The Story of Tea explains further that after the pan-firing, the leaves are scattered on a sheet of rice paper, then another sheet is laid on top and the leaves are blotted to remove moisture without removing their aromatics.  This is what's responsible for the distinctive cross-hatched pattern on the dried leaves and, of course, ultimately why the tea is flat.  After this the tea is finished by basket firing.

Tai Ping Hou Kui.  You can still see the distinctive rice-
paper  imprint on the wet leaves.  (Click to enlarge.)

This tea is from Tao's tea house, and the package says its origin is Hou Keng Village in AnHui province (China).  It's considered by some to be one of the "Ten Famous Teas" -- although there is no definitive list of which ten they are*.

"Tai Ping" is a region in the south of the Huang Shan mountains in Anhui province, and "hou kui", according to Babelcarp, means "monkey king."  Some legends say that, due to the area's steep slopes, the locals trained monkeys to pick the tea, but I find that abit of stretch.  According to other googled sites the word "Hou refers to Hou Keng Village where the highest grade of this tea is made and the word Kui refers to a tea-grower Wang Kui-cheng who made this tea by improving the processing of a local green tea Jian Cha around 1900."   The Tea Drinker's Handbook notes that "according to another legend, it is the Taiping Rebellion of the 1850s, a tragic epidsode in Chinese history that ends in a bloody repression, which is linked with its name," and further notes that a "special feature of Tai Ping Hou Kui is revealed during the infusion when the veins of the leaves turn bright red -- some claim in tribute to the blood spilled by the rebels during the revolt."

I like to imagine that both might be true.  For usually there are many 'true' histories of a thing.  We come to blend and bend certain stories and events to reflect various people's emotional memory of the time as much as the 'facts' of a time.

I did two steepings.  Both in about 5 ozs of 75C to 80C water for two minutes but the first one had 6 or 7 leaves, which is what I thought I remembered Tao suggesting, and the second had the standard 2.5 grams of leaves.

Tai Ping Hou Kui wet leaves from the 2nd steep  -- large,
 mid-green leaves, showing, particularly on the left sample,
a pluck of a tiny bud, a new young  leaf and two other leaves.

The dry leaves have a surprisingly strong sweet and fresh aroma.  Almost floral.

On the first brew the wet leaves give light aroma of beans and a sweet vegetal scent, along with a light toasty scent of buttery popcorn.  The latter is the smell of the firing and identifies it as a fired not steamed green tea.  I don't see a red leaf vein though.

The liquor is a very pale, elegant blue-green with a light round buttery mouth feel. 

Overall I find this too watery and delicate for my taste-buds -- basically under-brewed, so decide to do a second one with the standard 2.5 grams of tea leaves to 5 oz of water.

This brings forward the toasty buttery aromas of the leaves and flavour to the tongue, along with the usual green-tea vegetal notes and a rich hint of toasted pecans.  This heavier, standard brew also brings a nice light briskness and a bit of sharp bitterness which is actually a nice balance to the quite full round, satiny (oily) mouth feel.  I could perhaps do with one notch lower on the bitterness but it brings a refreshing quality too, and the rest of the cup goes down with no problem.

This tea is so nice I'm trying it again the next morning -- 2.5 grams in 5 oz water at 80C.  This time I don't let it slip over the two-minute steep at all, which takes the slight bitterness down a note.  (It's amazing how little it takes to tip a tea over to bitterness.) The cup is wonderfully round and buttery with light toasty notes followed by the vegetal and the nutty pecan.  A second brew (at two minutes) is less round on the mouth, with abit less of the pecan and almost a mint-tea feel on the tongue as the last sip goes down.  A third brew (in cooler water since the water in my thermos has cooled to 65C) done at 3 minutes gives me another lovely cup of tea -- it doesn't seem to have diminished on the mouth feel by much, a little lighter on the flavour profiles and, surprisingly, the sweet floral note is more dominant. 

As I sit here sewing cosies this afternoon this tea just keeps on giving.  It deserves its moniker as one of the Ten Famous Teas -- rich-tasting and distinctive.

* Before the fall of the Imperial Court in China the Famous Teas were called Imperial Tribute Teas and were apparently for the exclusive pleasure of the emperor.

ORGANIC GOLDEN YUNNAN VS GOLDEN MONKEY

Golden Monkey on left, Organic Golden Yunnan on right
with fewer golden leaf buds and a chunkier leaf -- click for a
closer look at the lovely furry golden peko on the buds.



















I'm taking another run at the organic Golden Yunnan from Tao's Tea House, and comparing/contrasting to the Golden Monkey, also from Tao's.  I should admit off the top that Tao's Golden Monkey is currently my favourite tea ever.  Has been for the past 4 or 5 months.  Mmmm-mmmm good.  Yes, it's on the pricey side.  And, um, yes, I don't tend to offer it to visitors unless I think they'll appreciate its richness.

Both have lovely golden tips in them.  Both are from China albeit different provinces.  I got the Golden Yunnan thinking it might be in the same taste corner and seduce me as well.  It didn't, although it's not a bad tea.

TEA NAME: Organic Golden Yunnan
The Yunnan province is down in the south-west of China, and is considered one of the birthplaces of tea.   Its cultivation there started some 2000 years ago, but apparently it was only in the 1940s that black tea production began.   Yunnan black tea is generally called Dian Hong in China, which translates literally as 'Yunnan Red.'  Dian being another name for Yunnan Province, named after the Bronze Age Dian Kingdom, and red referring to the colour of the tea liquor.  We remember, bien sur, that in China what we call black tea is called red tea.  According to the Heiss's comprehensive book, The Story of Tea, historically Yunnan black tea has been grown from an indigenous variety of large, broad-leaf tea bush known locally as dayeh and classified by botanists as a subvariety of Camellia sinensis var. assamica.  I've no idea if that is the case with this tea but I did wonder, given its taste profile.  The Heiss's also note that Yunnan Buds of Gold and Yunnan Golden Needles are both among the highest grades of Yunnan black tea and "yield an exquisite creamy and malty, sweet-liquoring tea with almost no bite."  That certainly wasn't my experience with this Golden Yunnan and sounds much more like the Golden Monkey.  Hmmmm.

WATER TEMPERATURE:  Just off the boil
STEEPING TIME:  2 minutes, 10 seconds

DRY LEAF:
Per the photo above, the Golden Yunnan on the right is chunkier-looking, and is a dark charcoal grey with bright silvery-gold threads and small broken bits mixed in.  Under the magnifying loup, the threads are revealed as gorgeous furry pekoe on unopened leaf buds with the darker (though still showing pekoe) slightly twisted young leaves.

Organic Golden Yunnan wet leaves.

WET LEAF:

Small broken leaves of a very deep, coppery-brown (dark penny colour) with occasional dark green evident.

Organic Golden Yunnan brewed tea.

LIQUOR:
Very deep red-brown with a green ring around the rim.
 
Hmmm.  Bit of a bitter after taste -- I think this is a tad overbrewed.  But still a sweet, caramel flavour coming through, and behind that the slightly steely bitterness.  Nice round mouth feel -- bit of fur on the tongue.  Medium to soft briskness -- ie: refreshing in the mouth, and can feel water being formed in the lower jaw bone area indicating lack of astringency.  When I add a bit of milk the bitterness is mostly overwhelmed -- and it is now a nice balance to the sweeter front notes.
 
Curious about the bitterness I did a second brew with 2 grams of leaves instead of 2.5 grams.  It's still got a bite and the big mouth feel.  Could this be due to it being c.s. v. assamica...?

TEA NAME: Golden Monkey (Zheng He (or Zhenghe) Hong Gong Fu) from Fujian Province
In trying to track down what the heck the tea's Chinese name means I stumbled on the Babelcarp site which is fab.  All I previously knew was that "hong" means red.  But Babelcarp tells me that zheng he is the name of the place that is the centre of bai cha (literally white tea) production in Fujian province, or the variety of red tea produced from a cultivar usually made into white tea.  It also tells me that Gong fu literally means work or effort, and can signify either the gong fu tea service or red tea --  I find this confusing.  Does this mean there are other Fujian red teas with this descriptive or what?  From this translation device it appears that zhenghe hong gong fu literally translates as "the variety of red tea produced from a cultivar usually made into white tea + red + well made red tea"....?  Elsewhere on a tea purveyor's site it was explained that the english name, Golden Monkey, comes from its unique appearance: the leaves resemble monkey claws.  Not sure I see that but then I've not come across many monkeys.

WATER TEMPERATURE: Just off the boil
STEEPING TIME:  2 minutes 10 seconds

DRY LEAF:
Per the photo above, I identify this tea by its long (3/4"), slightly grey-black long wiry pieces with loads of golden threads and light crinkly-ness -- it looks and feels very airy.  Under the magnifying loup this is revealed to be all furry pekoed long thin leaf buds.  It's such a special, funny sight you must try it some time.  Or click on the photo above.

Golden Monkey wet leaves.

WET LEAF: 
Beautiful long buds and bud + leaf in a slightly grayed coppery brown.  (This photo is under halogen light and is redder and yellower than to my eye.) They kind of look like slippery little eels, don't they? Or little wet seals. (Okay, the latter might be stretching it.)

Toffee. Peppery.  Faint sweet apricot note. Lower down there's a light musky-musty note.

Golden Monkey brewed liquor --  much more orangey
than the Golden Yunnan.

LIQUOR:
The colour is a medium, bright orangey-brown.  I've noticed the brew also tends to have a bubbly, slight scum which on closer examination seems to be a result of the leaf bud's hairy pekoe.

Mmmmm. Sweet toffee, with some apricot, light soft bitterness to balance out the flavour.  Nice lush medium body in the mouth -- a light velvety furring, and not at all brisk.  When I add milk -- which is the way I tend to drink black tea -- it smoothes out the furring abit, and is still a wonderful, addictive brew.