17 hours ago
Looking for the right kind of green tea
The Long Jing has been on my tea wish list simply because its reputation precedes it. Along with the Bi Luo Chun, the Long Jing sits at the top of the green tea pantheon, and on one's tea explorations. It is a name that comes up often enough until you cannot ignore it.
The name Long Jing translates to Dragon Well, and follows in the Chinese tea tradition that tells of an old tea and fantastical tales that accompany it. At first, I found these stories to be quite the attractive hook, marvelling at how even a tea could inspire such legends. Lately though, I am more eager to push past the stories for the tea. And with the Long Jing, suffice to know that the tea gets its name from its place of origin—Longjing village in Hangzhou.
Of all the tea styles, I have struggled with green tea the most, in part because the early greens I had were not very memorable. I was also put off by the heavy handed push by marketers towards adopting green tea for losing weight and being disease-free. While I never actively sought green tea, I welcomed the occasional flavourful greens that came my way. And I learnt to distinguish between the pan-roasted Chinese style and the steamed Japanese style, and my preference for the latter was for the colour and the umami hit. Still, it's been a sporadic dalliance at best.
Also read: A tea lover's reflection on tradition and change
Last week, a ceramicist friend was travelling to China, and I had to ask for some Long Jing tea, given that spring has just ended. All tea regions seem to celebrate green tea plucked in spring. An avowed coffee drinker, my friend was not impressed with the tea, doubting if it looked and sounded better than it was. I had no reference for it, and decided to abandon questions about when it was plucked and by whom and what grade it was. Instead, I decided to enjoy it for the tea it was. What a lovely aroma it had—the packet opened to the smells of a tea garden, that fresh leafy smell that is such a mood lifter. The leaves were the characteristic Long Jing flat leaf, which comes from the pan-frying process when the leaves are pressed against the sides of the pan.
I chose to brew it in water that was hot, but not boiling (80–85 degrees Celsius is recommended), and tried a very short steep of 30 seconds before settling for longer (60-90 seconds) steeps. I topped it a few times. Two things that struck me were the smooth mouthfeel and the hit of umami that I was not expecting: I have grown to associate that with Japanese greens and yet, here was a pan-fired Chinese tea exhibiting it. Second, despite being a prized tea, it was effortlessly easy to like and drink. The myth and lore aside, the tea can speak for itself.
Perhaps one just needs the right tea to start one's discovery. And for green tea, the Long Jing could very well be that tea.
Also read: Do you value that cup of tea?
TEA TAKES
A flavoured Long Jing with lychee and pandan (Karma Kettle, ₹400 for 50g) or pure Long Jing (Chado Tea, ₹899 for 50g or Newby Tea, ₹8,880 for 250g)
Tea Nanny is a fortnightly series on the world of tea. Aravinda Anantharaman is a tea drinker, writer and editor. She posts @AravindaAnanth1 on X.
