Aged Oolongs...

Aged oolong is always a strange animal. Anyone here who's followed Marshaln's blog recently will understand it when I say that no two aged oolongs are identical, and rarely are two aged oolongs terribly alike. Oolongs of the same type (dancong, for example) of similar oxidation and roasting often end up entirely different after years have worked on them. My guess is the greatest factor here is environment and storage: some of these are reroasted occasionally, some undergo a preparatory roast before aging and a final roast after aging, some aren't roasted signficantly at all. And beyond roasting, humidity can wreak havoc on an aged oolong. Lamentably, aging oolong is most popular in humid climates such as Guangdong/Hong Kong, Taiwan, and Fujian. Go figure.


Imen (far left) and attendees pondering aged dancong...

I'd had aged yancha, aged tie guan yin, aged dongding and aged baozhong teas. This was my first occasion trying an aged dancong. I had an idea of what to expect from previous aged oolongs, whose only shared characteristic across all teas was mellowing, sweetness enhancement, and some sort of fragrance mutation. My guesses weren't far off from what I experienced at Tea Habitat.


Danica takes her turn behind the gongfu table...
...and is happy with her results:


We tried aged dancong from 1994, 1996, and 1986. All were of varying oxidations, it seemed, or maybe aged in different shops. That they were aged was incidental rather than intentional; many aged oolongs share their forlorn story of neglect: too good to throw away, not good enough to sell the whole quantity in one year. Which leaves us with three dancong teas, the youngest 11 years old. Imen, the proprietor of Tea Habitat and, in my opinion, the Queen of Dancong tea in the United States, presented the teas without introduction. She only spoke about them when I pressed her: why were these chosen to be aged? How did they choose a dancong to be aged? What was considered ideal condition? Her answers were vague and cryptic, but amounted to the tale of disregard above: the gist of it was: here there is no why; there is only tea.


Imen will kill me for posting this photo.

So the verdict on the aged dancong? They're mellower but still very fragrant. The fragrance and flavors no longer reveal themselves as obvious "xingren" "milan" or other varietals: each aged dancong seemed like dancong remixed. The roast took a stronger role in the flavor, but the essential dancong lightness remained unchanged. The fragrance remained strong but out of reach of pigeonholing. Dancong is the doppelganger of teas when young, preferring to mime another flavor than yield its own. When aged, are these muted, sultry floral and fruity flavors the essence dancong hides behind its mimickry, or is it another ruse?


Ming has something to say, y'all

We had three other dancong teas that day, one called "Zei Shi / Thief Shit", one called "Chuan du lao ming cong" (a top 10 wudong bush), and another called "Bor Tou / Ginger Flower". Of the three, I liked the Thief Shit the best. Previously in Imen's shop I'd adored the qi of the chuan du lao ming cong, but the fragrance was off and it wasn't as powerful as I remembered. The bor tou is soothing, but when Imen left me a sample, I found it hard to brew it as well as she had.


Qi, the child in this picture, giggled with glee as said "Thief Shit" and "Shit Tea"...his mother hates us now.

We had one aged wuyi tea brought by Will, quite nice but a bit heavy on the charcoal. Danica brought a "1990s Red Iron Cake" from Grandtea, a tea that is probably fake. The tea had been rewrapped, it lacks a neifei, and it was a traditional press instead of a tie bing as advertised. Unless the wuxing pu'er yearbooks prove me wrong, I'm inclined to think it's fake. However, it's not terrible for wet stored tea.

I felt this way too, very happy (left) and meditative about the tea (right).