An Oolong Quest in Taiwan

By Jeff Fuchs - The mists cleared long enough for me to glimpse terraces of green black tea fields. Then just as quickly the mists enveloped everything. Landscape had long since disappeared, mists and fogs played peek-a-boo. My little car rumbled up further into the hills, further into the dark. At over 2000 meters all was gray and wet on this volcanic island of Taiwan.

"Landscape had long since disappeared, mists and fogs played peek-a-boo."

This central part of Ihla Formosa (Taiwan) was home to that which I sought, the famed High Mountain Oolong tea. Two-thirds of Taiwan is mountain-covered. With fifty peaks over 3000 meters, this wet green island sitting off China’s coast provided the perfect home for the fabled tea. My destination was a teahouse run by a family that had grown specialty Oolongs for 200 years, after emigrating from the Wuyi region of Fujian province in China (the ‘birthplace’ of tea).

Grinding up yet another road I was suddenly there, the Chinese symbol for tea hanging in the fog, still and wet. Three buildings sat in a courtyard and through the haze my hosts emerged from a white square house. A shirtless man built of stone, Father, and a smiling woman; his daughter Wing welcomed me in Taiwanese (language of Fujian) and Chinese. Father (who at seventy looked forty) and Wing led me into a moss-covered hut. We sat down on worn wooden stools surrounded by tea, its scents and colors, and it seemed a casual shrine of sorts paying homage to a green leaf. I had long been a devotee of the tealeaf in all of its manifestations, and a mutual friend had suggested coming here to further my “study/devotion” to it. Tea history and culture is both art and science; its primary role in history has been associated with hospitality throughout Asia.

Wing and Father (and most likely the entire family), were what is known as cha shi (tea masters). The experience that was forthcoming, known as gong fu cha or ‘tea method’ brought tea and instruments together with the drinker. The tea used, an intoxicating Oolong, was renowned for its flavor because of the adherence to the original process.

"[T]he famed High Mountain Oolong tea... rolled tightly into balls..."  (Jeff Fuchs)

Before me, on a slab of wood, which acted as the table, sat the three vitals of this ancient art: the tea itself rolled tightly in balls, spring water, and a clay teapot. Father’s eyes grew intense when explaining the water, “Fresh spring water is alive and is as essential as the tea quality.” He softened once again. “The semi-fermented or blue teas need boiling water, but not over boiled.” He gently poked at a kernel of Oolong. The Oolongs belonged to the blue-green (or Ching) family, fermenting anywhere from 10%-60%, and while names and vintages number in the thousands; it is perhaps the least known of teas.

Names of particular Oolongs like Hong Shuei (“red water”), and Dong Ding (“location”), might reflect the origin or a poetic description. The name Oolong itself can mean ‘jet dragon’, or ‘black serpent’ due perhaps to the shape as it unfurls.

Father grew intense again as water came into the subject spotlight. Water can be ‘killed’ if over boiled and the oxygen ‘burned off’—which judging from Father’s face, and Wing’s frown was punishable by a slow death. Water was brought to a gentle boil, and Wing’s deft hand poured it over the clay pot, into the cups, warmth infusing all of the parts. Next the water was poured into the pot that housed the precious little balls of tea so that it ran over the rim, “to expel the bitter froth which came to the surface.” Wing explained that the leaves were now ‘reawakening’. I peered into the minuscule pot looking for signs of life…and indeed leaves slowly unfurled, letting off aromatic vapors into the damp air. After 40 seconds it was emptied again into the three cups, which were subsequently drained. Now we were ready for the first infusion of this sacred fluid.

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