One of my lovely friends A is one of the most open minded generous souls I know. She's traveled to many remote corners of this world including Afghanistan but now is happily rooted in the Big Island of Hawaii. She told me a golden tea story which I share with you now. She was hiking in a remote valley in Nepal when a traveling Nepali family joined them on a narrow footpath. Sometimes they would overtake her, and she would overtake them. After a few hours, they were sitting for a break and waved to her to join them for tea.
My friend was honored to be asked and as the guest was offered the first cup. Every one was smiling at her urging her to drink so she enthusiastically took her first sip. It was and remains the most vile thing she had ever downed- she struggled mightily to keep her gag reflex in check. She even managed to smile and finish a cup. She was certain yak dung was the principal ingredient in this horrible brew. Though she graciously tried to refuse any more, she had to endure unending rounds of refills till the tea ran out.
I think there is some debate currently about relativity in the quality of tea. I thought I would talk about shu since it's a genre with less dogma or ego. Shu drinkers are already a beaten down lot without the pride of connoisseurship. Shu tends to be made with lesser grade leaves that isn't good enough for sheng, composted in giant piles under stained wool blankets then raked around by men without hair nets. Generally shu drinkers do not make too much an effort to pretend shu is something refined and amazing and are most grateful when the tea doesn't taste like the smears of a barnyard. Also with shu, a drinker's reaction tends to be more visceral:
Bad shu=triggers gag reflex and/or delivers regretful amounts of intestinal distress.
Good shu= does not offend and can be drunk without a grimace.
I've had a friend spit out his first cup of shu- a Menghai Golden Needle White Lotus no less and to those unaccustomed to the taste of dirt- it's undrinkable. It took me years to get past my initial unfavorable response. But among those who count themselves as shu drinkers, I rarely see heated debates around the merit of a shu. At the positive end, reviews tend to cluster tepidly around "not so bad" to "pleasant". Drinkers tend to have lower expectations with far less at stake with shu which makes for a more open mind. No one to impress and not much to be impressed by.
When a shu is even a notch above ho-hum i.e. mellow, smooth, and drinkable, I am exceedingly pleased. These De Hong High Plateau bricks I re-upped last year at $16.80 a kilo are as fabulous as cheap shu will ever get- it's got an herbal finish with a lively mouthfeel. I had to go through perhaps 30+ shus- most forgettably decent, some scar-inducing - to reach a shu I consider kind of compelling. I've drunk enough factory floor shu to know I don't have to keep on prying my mind open when the shu is out and out disgusting even after multiple rinses and past the fourth brew. But most often, many shus are just kind of pleasantly boring and really - not many will think too hard about it or get too hot under the collar about it.
My friend was honored to be asked and as the guest was offered the first cup. Every one was smiling at her urging her to drink so she enthusiastically took her first sip. It was and remains the most vile thing she had ever downed- she struggled mightily to keep her gag reflex in check. She even managed to smile and finish a cup. She was certain yak dung was the principal ingredient in this horrible brew. Though she graciously tried to refuse any more, she had to endure unending rounds of refills till the tea ran out.
I think there is some debate currently about relativity in the quality of tea. I thought I would talk about shu since it's a genre with less dogma or ego. Shu drinkers are already a beaten down lot without the pride of connoisseurship. Shu tends to be made with lesser grade leaves that isn't good enough for sheng, composted in giant piles under stained wool blankets then raked around by men without hair nets. Generally shu drinkers do not make too much an effort to pretend shu is something refined and amazing and are most grateful when the tea doesn't taste like the smears of a barnyard. Also with shu, a drinker's reaction tends to be more visceral:
Bad shu=triggers gag reflex and/or delivers regretful amounts of intestinal distress.
Good shu= does not offend and can be drunk without a grimace.
I've had a friend spit out his first cup of shu- a Menghai Golden Needle White Lotus no less and to those unaccustomed to the taste of dirt- it's undrinkable. It took me years to get past my initial unfavorable response. But among those who count themselves as shu drinkers, I rarely see heated debates around the merit of a shu. At the positive end, reviews tend to cluster tepidly around "not so bad" to "pleasant". Drinkers tend to have lower expectations with far less at stake with shu which makes for a more open mind. No one to impress and not much to be impressed by.
When a shu is even a notch above ho-hum i.e. mellow, smooth, and drinkable, I am exceedingly pleased. These De Hong High Plateau bricks I re-upped last year at $16.80 a kilo are as fabulous as cheap shu will ever get- it's got an herbal finish with a lively mouthfeel. I had to go through perhaps 30+ shus- most forgettably decent, some scar-inducing - to reach a shu I consider kind of compelling. I've drunk enough factory floor shu to know I don't have to keep on prying my mind open when the shu is out and out disgusting even after multiple rinses and past the fourth brew. But most often, many shus are just kind of pleasantly boring and really - not many will think too hard about it or get too hot under the collar about it. 









