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Once a week, I enjoy what has become a ritual: a visit to the local Buddhist Temple and tea house for a steaming bowl of Lucky Noodles and Osmanthus Oolong tea, which is floral, thick and meditative. Ideal for quiet moments.
Deciding to order a stash for home, I was surprised to discover online two ‘Osmanthus’ oolongs for purchase – one from Taiwan, the other from China.
Golden Osmanthus (or Huang Jin Gui) hails from the famous AnXi region in the Fujian Province and is one of the finest Chinese oolongs. The name ‘Golden Osmanthus’ refers to the yellow cup, the yellowish green leaf and a fine flavour that reminds you of the Osmanthus blossom. However, it is not a scented tea; unlike the Taiwanese version which is layered with osmanthus blossoms.
Golden Osmanthus is composed of hand-rolled leaves, in clusters of variegated colour from light olive to ivy-green. The scent is mostly floral bouquet. Tasting the tea, it really does resemble Osmanthus flowers, but it has a very different overall character from Osmanthus-scented tea. Also it has some surprises.
The first two infusions were for 40-60 seconds at around 85 degrees, which produced a very clear cup that was mostly aroma with a little body. Interesting, this was followed by a 5-minute infusion, upping the temperature to just under boiling, and the results were completely different: now there was a bold, herbaceous quality, tones of celery and parsley. This cup was full-bodied and rich. Like many other Chinese oolongs, this tea is full of mystery and complexity…and yet it is very reasonably priced.

This tea is grown on the Nantou mountains moistened by mist every morning and late afternoon. It is produced by combining lightly-oxidised Taiwanese oolong leaves with fresh osmanthus blossoms. The recipe of this oolong has been around for a long time. This tea was especially popular among the ladies in the past as they believe that drinking it can help them enhance their beauty.
At first glance, there is a tendency to dismiss this oolong as a run-of-the-mill blend. More often than not, blends with are often made from lower quality tea leaves with more fragrant flowers or herbs used to mask the deficiencies of the tea. But this oolong bucks this trend. The base used is not some cheap leaf but those from the Jin Xuan cultivar, which has a creamy quality that is known as Nai Xiang (milk fragrance). In fact, the osmanthus oolong shouldn’t be classified as a blend but as a scented tea. During production, the tea leaves are packed with fresh osmanthus blossums and left overnight to absorb the fragrance. Unlike Jasmine tea, the scenting process is not repeated. Before sale, most of the osmanthus petals are removed leaving a small amount for ornamental purposes.
Part of the fun of Osmanthus Oolong is watching the interplay between its two components. In the first two brews especially, the osmanthus and peachy fruit notes tend to shine through. From the third or fourth infusion onwards, the osmanthus note starts to fade and the oolong taste (green plant, citrus, nuts) dominates. Visually, the tea is beautiful to observe as the blossoms float to the top of the teapot while the tea leaves slowly unfurl from their semi-ball shape.
This all makes for an interesting and evolving tea. Perfect for beginners or purists. But don’t take my word for it, try it for yourself.

This is the perfect tea for a day of rain…
Cultivated in the highlands of the Himalayas at an elevation above 7000ft, the tea plant leaves grow in a pristine natural environment free from roads, pollution and pesticides. The Meghma Oolong Tea Project began as an effort to improve the poor living conditions of the local people in Meghma, Nepal by helping them to re-discover the ancient art of manufacturing Asian Oolong tea. This tea is manufactured by hand as an artisan tea.
The tea, when dry, has loads of glorious buds…very tippy. One thing I’ve noticed about oolongs from the Indian subcontinent is that they generally do not look uniform. What I mean by that is whereas a Chinese Oolong often will look very uniform in terms of colour and shape, Oolongs from India and Nepal seem to have a little bit of variation.
The dry leaf smells sweet and soft, with a bouquet of flowers and a little savouriness. The liquor is much the same: sweet and smooth with notes of stone-fruit and muscatel, and a slight savoury backbone. There is a lingering, subtle, sweet aftertaste accompanied by a little dryness in the throat.
The flavour is not particularly complex, nor one that changes from infusion to infusion (although a slight maltiness creeps in, reminiscent of a Chinese Yunnan Imperial, as the floral notes drop off) so it has potential to become a little boring. The tea also tastes just like a lighter or a slightly different version of what we normally know as Darjeeling black tea (or red, as the Chinese prefer). I wonder if the Oolong processing has really done much to the tea itself or if we are merely tasting the same terrior (e.g. Darjeeling and surrounds) over and over…? Only a real expert could say.
Brewing this tea is remarkably easy and it’s reasonably forgiving if you want to experiment with brewing times.

Located in southwestern China, Yunnan is the home of this exceptional black tea. The leaf is cultivated at altitudes ranging between 1,800m and 2,100m in an area with a cool climate and natural woodland. The medium-sized leaves are plucked in the early spring when the tea plants are budding with the new year’s growth and finely worked according to a special method. The end result is a gorgeous collection of golden twisted leaves, almost as lovely to look at as to taste.
Known also as Imperial Yunnan in China, this top-grade tea offers a unique character and lingering finish of this tea is intoxicating. The first infusion gives a rich, smooth, flavourful cup with notes of malt and spice with a vague whiff of the embers of a campfire in winter. There is no astringency. In fact, you can brew it for as long as you like, it won’t become bitter, just stronger.
The second infusion is equally as good, if not better. The notes are stronger. Earth, smoke, malt, honey, spice.
This highly sought after tea transports the drinker to the Tea Horse Road: to the nomadic traders of the camel caravans travelling from Yunnan to Europe via Russia who fuelled their travels through the steady drinking of tea. The route was arduous and took more than six months to complete the 6,000km journey. It has been said that during the camel caravan journeys, the teas took on the smoky taste of the campfires.
This is the amazing gift of tea. Each has its own story to share.
(Post-script: This is where the ‘Russian Caravan’ blend derives its unique flavour: all the leading brands of Russian Caravan seem to be predominantly Yunnan tea blended with various other black teas.)

Some days I can’t decide what beverage to choose – a comforting cup of tea or a shot of Java. Technically you can get both at your local coffee house in the form of a “dirty chai”: chai latte with a shot of espresso.
But if you are at home…?
The T Shop offers a new chai blend with a base of high-grade Chinese black tea mixed with coconut, cardamom, cinnamon, cloves, ginger, and velvet chocolate, then a sprinkling of ground and whole coffee beans to jazz it up. We all know the warm bright spices in chai tea are so incredibly cozy, but the additional ingredients take it to over the top decadent.
With much anticipation I got out my milk pot and brewed up a batch of the tea. The chai had a subtler, richer flavor than many other chais, with a big hit of spice from the cardamom and cinnamon and a tasty depth from the coffee beans. And yet the tea held its own.
The beauty of making your chai at home is that you can have it any way you want it. To get the best result from your spices, it’s recommended the chai is brewed on the stove with 1 part milk and 1 part water. However, if you are time-starved, boil the kettle, steep the tea (3 minutes) and add steamed milk. Decadent. (Almost as good as a dirty chai, but better for you…that is, minus the instant chai mix coffee houses use.)
If coffee isn’t your…ummm…tea then you can use this blend in baked goods or just toss it in a cup to hold under your nose all day long because it SMELLS COMPLETELY AMAZING.

With some excitement, I opened a sample of prized ‘Fu Cha’ tea. Fu Cha is a type of dark tea from the Hunan Province. It is NOT pu’erh (which comes from Yunnan Province). What makes this tea unique are the yellow spores that cover the surface of the tea cake (bing). These spots are a beneficial fungus, Eurotium Cristatus, which evolve through a ‘double fermentation’ process. The more spores, the higher the quality of the Fu Cha. There are many claims of health benefits: mostly to do with the unusually vital Mongolian peoples who remain in relatively good shape, despite eating pounds of meat a day. Of course it is their double fermented tea that is touted as the primary cause of this. Although, perhaps, it is more that they survive in a tundra landscape, while we sit in front of computers. I digress. Back to the tea.
Following instructions that I steep this tea as one would a ‘sheng’ or raw pu’erh, water was heated to 96-100degrees. The leaves were then rinsed briefly before the first steep.
While brewing, this tea takes on a hearty, earthy smell. However, the taste of the tea was underwhelming. There was none of the bitterness that often accompanies young raw pu’erh, but it lacked flavour. A “woody” note was about it.
Unfortunately, when we study tea we can often overthink. We expect the tea will reveal all its secrets in the first steep. And when this doesn’t happen, there is a feeling we have “missed something.” Fortunately, my supplier gently reminded me of the Zen approach to tea: that we shouldn’t expect anything. The tea will reveal itself when it is ready. And no two experiences are the same (ichigo ichie). I had to “empty my cup” of all preconceptions and expectations.
After days of foot shuffling and avoidance, I re-approached the Fu Cha with an “empty cup": heating the water, rinsing, and providing space for the tea (and myself). The result was a pleasant surprise: the woody note remained, but a real sweetness (fruits and molasses) came through. Lingering long in the mouth. It lasted a good seven or eight steeps, however, its deceptive gentleness was counteracted by a wallop of caffeine.

“If our cups are empty, the [tea] will fill them; if not, the [tea] will flow onto the floor and be lost.”

Scented tea can be a mixed bag. Sometimes it can be way too fragrant and the cup ends up tasting like it has been spikee with artificial flavourings, nasty chemicals. Then there is the opposite side of the spectrum, where the tea is lacking in scent and flavour.
This particular tea has been scented with fresh juice from the Lychee nut. It is, perhaps, the first scented tea ever created.
Legend goes in the Chinese Tang dynasty, there was a imperial concubine, Yang GuiFei, who was addicted to Lychees. Each year, the Emperor shipped a large amount of the fruit in order to ingratiate himself with his concubine. In the fleet of vessels, there were many kinds of handcrafted ‘Tribute Tea’ destined for the imperial household. One such tea was Lychee Congou. Yang Guifei loved the tea and, subsequently, it became popular with the Chinese.
Back to the tea. The dry leaf smells incredible. Lychee fruit is unique and distinct. It has a natural sweetness, yet slightly tart. Infused in water that has been brought to a rolling boil (96-degrees) for 3-5 minutes the tea reveals a wonderfully exotic fruity (Lychee!) note. However, the Chinese Keemun base isn’t hidden behind the Lychee. Rather, the tea tastes rich and smooth, with a hint of smoke that pairs well with the fruit.
Exotic. Sultry. Intoxicating. Sweet.

Many tea merchants offer Chai, but their concoctions tend to be overpriced and under-spiced. And the tea bags, pre-ground spice mixtures, and concentrates found on supermarket shelves are woefully bland. A proper masala chai will have a pungent and rich brew.
A blend made with spices – ginger, green cardamom, anise, red peppercorn, clove, chilli and nutmeg. No sweeteners and artificial flavourings are added. The tea can be made with water in a small teapot or simmer in hot milk for a traditional Chai experience.
This Garam Masala Chai meets all the criteria for a good cup of chai. Like mulled wine, traditional chai blends have an aromatic presence, but by adding ‘heat’ through the introduction of chillies and red peppercorns and an additional dose of ginger, this tea offers an even greater benefit: to provide warmth and insulate the body.
The spices in this chai are powerful movers – literally. The first sensation of heat is recognizable a few minutes after drinking the tea, when it sits at the back of the throat. It has a slightly dry feel to it. After 10 minutes or so the sensation of heat is felt in the chest and then continues through the body. I am reminded of the first known reference to tea: Venerable (Chinese) tea sage, Lu Yu, was boiling tea when some leaves from a plant fell into his pot. He tasted them and found the tea was unexpectedly better than usual. But more than that, as he had a transparent stomach, he could see the good the leaves were doing. Just like Lu Yu, we can feel this tea travel through our bodies and offer goodness and warmth.
It packs a double punch compared to traditional chai blends.
Note: While milk is not required to savour this tea, a tiny dollop of honey softens any harshness or dryness from the spices and imparts a rounded taste and body that is pleasant to the palate.

Anyone who has travelled through India will have tasted Chai. Traditional Chai is made with strong black tea with the addition of spices and milk. It is drunk throughout the day as a restorative. This Chai ‘blend’ from Cartel Roasters is ready to go chai – just brew and add milk (and, perhaps, a sweetener).
The ingredients are the usual suspects: Premium Ceylon black tea, ginger, cardamom, cinnamon, pepper, bay leaf and cloves . It smells of raisins and wood…and entices.
Steeped for 3-4 minutes (95 degrees), the tea has a full, robust flavour with some astringency. You can drink it straight up with no additions. You can brew it stovetop in a 1:1 ratio of milk and water. Or you can brew it at a concentrated strength in water and then add a splash of steamed milk. It is recommended to add a sweetener to accentuate the spices. And on that note, I can’t help but feel the spices have been lost along the way. Or perhaps I have had too many cups of sweet chia in Nepal and my palate is biased.
Post-script: After a long 3rd steep, this chai improved. As the tea loses its boldness, the spices come through and the balance improves.

Chai-eeeeee, chai-eeeee. Opening this tea sample, I hear the chant of the chai-wallahs emanating from stalls that dot the streets of urban and rural India. I am reminded of the rickety wooden thella – housing a stove, an aluminum pan, and the ingredients required for making tea. Chai…ahh…the aroma!
Tea culture in India was virtually non-existent until the early 1900s when the British made efforts to popularize it, giving rise to the great chai stall. Tradition holds that this particular blend of chai was discovered by accident by a chai-wallah, plying his trade one day in the Lal Bagh garden, when he discovered that rose petals from a bush being pruned nearby had fallen into his teapot.
Bangalore Rose Chai was born.
And indeed, this tea reflects the beauty of that garden. The floral note lends a touch of glamour, softening the taste of spice that we associate with ancient caravans. The black tea (a Ceylon BOP, in this case) is not overwhelmed by the additional ingredients; creating a perfect balance. Add a little milk and honey and it will really shine.
I always like to think the humdrum of life is best ignored over a cup of chai. This loose tea blends all of its characters to string an aromatic and flavoursome tale that could keep me daydreaming for days….