In appearance, this offering from Chateau Rouge looks like a white tea. The leaves are lighter colored, and the smell is herbaceous with a nuttiness to it. This probably contributes to why they describe it as an “unusually light green tea”. It shares similar origins with many an oolong, Wuyi Mountain. The tea profile even cites a legend about the region in general. I love that. Makes me want to visit Fujian even more.

Brewing instructions recommended were 1 rounded teaspoon per 8oz of 70-85C water for three-to-four minutes. I went with 77C for three-minutes-thirty. They recommended letting the water cool for two or so minutes if brought to a boil. Luckily, I didn’t have that problem and could precisely dictate the temp.

They weren’t kidding when they said it brewed light. The only other green tea that I’ve come across that brews any paler is Emerald from the Arya tea estate in Darjeeling. This was a very faint green tea. To the nose, it was a little bit too vegetal, bordering on a cooked vegetable aroma. However, on second whiff, I got used to it. As for taste, it held up quite well; not great, but well. The “apple-pear” dynamic was a little present, but not as strongly as the dry form. It tasted like a garden, but not garden variety. I suppose that’s something.

I’m rarely a fan of the pyramid infusers. On the up side they leave more room for the leaves to expand. On the down side, air bubbles often get trapped inside, making it very challenging to get the sachet to sink into the water properly. I invariably get the paper tag all wet. In the end, what is promoted as a convenience is really more of a bother and not much of a selling point in to me. Fortunately for me, the tea that has been packaged inside the infuser is well worth the trouble.

The leaves inside the sachet are a deep, chocolaty brown, torn into reasonably sized pieces. This is clearly not the tea dust and fannings that are the bane of bagged teas. There is a potent smell of smoke and toasted bread wafting up from the tea bag. Jing’s website warns that this tea might be too intense if steeped too long. Using 8 ounces of water heated to 203 degrees Fahrenheit, a beautiful coppery coloured cup greets me after my carefully timed 2 and a half minute steep. Savoury and smoky, there is something decidedly comforting yet exciting about the campfire-smelling cup. The tea is powerfully smoky but still silky smooth. There is no hint of acrid or bitter taste whatsoever, as sometimes occurs with Laspangs of lesser grades. There is a pleasant solidity to the intense peaty flavour, mixed with underlying hints of sweet cream and malt. There is something vaguely fishy tasting as well, but not in a way that would detract from the enjoyment of the cup.

Jing touts this tea as being able to withstand 2 to 3 steeps, so I continued on with a second and a third infusion. The next 2 and a half minute steep yields a brew very similar to the first except for being lighter in body and colour. The initial steep had a beautiful creaminess to it that is now waning. There is also more of peppery bite to the aftertaste this time around. My last and third infusion was 3 minutes in length. The tea’s peaty notes now take on more acrid tones. These are not too overpowering but this is the least smooth steep by far. The bitter aftertaste lingered unpleasantly long in the back of my mouth. It makes me glad that I kept the previous steeps on the shorter end of things. Sometimes it’s good to know when to stop.

This tea asks to be treated with respect and caution in terms of steep times but one is well rewarded with an expertly crafted, sturdy yet sophisticated tea. The smoothness of the smoky notes and the creamy texture are truly exceptional for a Lapsang.

Andao is one of those tea companies that is a ‘go-to’ of mine when I shop for plain leaf. I have been impressed with their Yunnan Golden Needle and their Golden Monkey is out of this world. Unfortunately, that Golden Monkey is sold out and one can only hope that the crop of subsequent seasons will be as good! While I don’t generally consider myself a fan of Wu Yi oolongs in general, and all the buzz surrounding their weight loss claims rather annoys me, Andao is a source that I trust so I gave this one a shot.

I used a generous amount of the little, dark twisted leaves of the oolong and infused them in water brought to a boil for one minute as suggested by Andao’s website. Interestingly the leaves being reviewed today are from the 2007 Spring crop and are currently sold out. While they suggest brewing this in a gaiwan or yixing pot, I used my little one-cup glass teapot. The brewed cup is very aromatic and there is a hint of floral both in the aroma and that I can taste in the back of my throat as I drink this. However, to me, the flavor profile of the golden colored oolong is more of smoked almonds. I also found notes of tobacco and a bit of woodiness about the cup. While those notes might imply astringency to some, I didn’t really find that to be the case. Further, the cup is fairly smooth and goes down easily, but not in a mind-blowing smooth way as I have experienced with some very high-quality leaf.

Overall, this is not a bad choice when considering a Wu Yi oolong. It does sort of walk the line between being roasted (though not heavily) and still offering some of the floral notes that I enjoy. However, I can’t say that this offering is one that would send me running to the Andao website with credit card in hand to place an order immediately. I would call it more of a secondary player in that I would consider adding some to cart if I were already there selecting another offering. I think it falls into that category where I like it, but I am not in love with it.

Sometimes you need sweet, but often you need rich, delightfully bitter vegetables, no mater how many knee jerk revulsion’s you experience from childhood bitter is a perfectly valid part of the flavor spectrum, and though this tea doesn’t overly exemplify it, it does frame it rather well. Its not strong, it doesn’t assault the tongue, it just sort of falls on a cushion of buttery velvet and work its way about from there. Its a very tasty leaf and I’d recommend it as a decent daily drinker.

Rather than gong-fuing this like I originally planned, I have changed my mind and decided to lazily brew it in a 1-cup glazed teapot with two heaping teaspoons of leaf. Two minutes at 212°, and even though my simple teapot won’t do any major favours for the nose of a tea, this has an incredibly rich scent. There are distinct almond and floral aromas with an overall rich sweeteness.

The flavour itself is rich yet muted. It is smoky and sweet, two flavours that seem unmatched but blend together surprisingly well. The scent and flavour are very different from each other yet seem seamlessly matched.

My second steep was one minute, and for the third and fourth, I added one minute to each. The tea held up for all four steeps effectively. At the end I found myself feeling completely satisfied with the tea experience, yet I was ready to drink more if I thought latter steeps would parallel the depth of the first four.

This tea is interesting, unique, and endlessly aromatic. As an added bonus, it’s even organic, which though it matters to some people and not others, I mostly see it as an added perk. I would definitely buy this in the future, and kudos to Andao for coming through with yet another amazing leaf.

JING’s tea bags come individually sealed in labeled plastic, and are of the fine mesh type. In the bag, the Lapsang leaves appear mid-sized, broken, yet decent quality. The aroma is wonderful – a familiar smoky earthen scent of Lapsang permeates the senses.

JING recommends a 2-3 minute steeping so as not to present “too strong a taste” – a common error in brewing Lapsang. In full agreement with this philosophy, I begin with a 2 minute brew. The liquor is deep burnt-sienna, and the aroma in the cup is even more enticing than that of the dried leaf – an inviting yet not overpowering scent. The taste is remarkable – far superior to that of any Lapsang I have encountered to date. There is almost a creaminess to it, to accompany, complement and offset the smokiness inherent to the tea.

JING also recommends enjoying 2-3 infusions of this tea, as it is of such high quality so as to take well to multiple infusions. I opt for a second infusion at 3 full minutes, which turns out equally wonderful, full of just as much flavor and every bit as enjoyable.

As it should be, this tea hails from high in the WuYi Mountains in the Fujian province — the true origin of Lapsang souchong tea. This tea does come in loose leaf form (no surprise) as well as in boxes of 100 tea bags.

Mambo, the dance, was created as a mix between Cuban and American Jazz music. This Mambo, the tea, is a mixture of black teas from the Yunnan and Wuyi provinces from China. I feel that the Wuyi comes out a tic stronger than the Yunnan, which I do not object to since I have a soft spot for Wuyi. However, I am not sure I am too thrilled with the tea overall. My first sip made me think that this black tea was really a mix between black and oolong leaves.

Perhaps the two contrasting provinces cancel each other out in scent, because I am not getting it much at all. The odd sickly yellow and black leaves in the same mix gives the tea a fancified moldy look, not a fan. Mambo truly has a good flavour, especially if you are in the mood for both black and oolong teas. Finally, this pairing of Yunnan and Wuyi, calling it Mambo was a fantastically clever idea. However, I didn’t find the tea to be an earth shattering invention. Rather interesting, descent tasting but not especially appealing.

Reading that on the website made me laugh, Detox is a mood now?

Like you’d expect from Monkey’s paw the leaves resemble the squiggly line drawings of small children, each set of leaves and bud resembling the hectic mish-mash that you must decipher into just the right animal to appease the little tyke. The mass of dry leaves are actually quite fetching due to their rich green color, offset with bits of white undercoat and kept light and ethereal by their wickedly bent forms. This brew not only smells lightly of asparagus, but also tastes a bit like it in all the best ways.

The leaves invigorate, resembling nothing more than untouched well-leached leaf litter at the bottom of a stream. A mute green chaos at the bottom of the glass turning the water a light yellow green in gently extracted stratifications, like smoke from a serial line of incense sticks lightly layering the air. With the first sip I could tell that these leaves are very much on the sensitive side and tend to bitter with the slightest provocation, but with a little love and understanding it was able to leach a rich, grilled asparagus flavor that was both surprising and welcome. Its not so much a “would buy again” as an, “looking to order more while typing this review” experience. Buy and enjoy, with as many people as you can talk into sharing the pot.