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Oolong is delicious; Dan Cong is oolong; Dan Cong is delicious. I feel as though I know just enough about the stuff to understand why folks get stoked about it, but not enough to have had my brain and soul shaken into conversion.

There’s a certain satisfaction to drowning it hot and fast, ripping it out of the pot before it can put up its tiny astringency fists and punch me in the face. But also I kinda crave the long-lazy, the deep pull of wisdom and nuance and patience.

Ah. Maybe I’m craving some yin to my current yang… maybe pot-ripping will perfectly align with some tidy, quiet, dough-proofing future day, to bring its own kind of nuance and wisdom to me then. We shall see.

Whoa. I don’t remember how I ferreted this out of YS’s dizzying collection; maybe it was the scotch whisky mention. This blew me away. Baked and smoky cocoa, herbal-medicinal… I can’t wait to come back to this. Tian Jian joins Liu Bao on my holy-heicha pedestal.

I’m in escrow on a home in the mountains — the one everyone kept saying would appear when it was supposed to, the one that’s flying through inspections, the one that was lived in and not flipped, the one that doesn’t feel like it is going to kill me via starvation because I can’t afford groceries.

I am cautiously optimistic. (False. She’s trembling with anticipation.) Shhhh. Thanks, universe.

I was anticipating roast and minerals here, but found an astringency reminiscent of Dan Cong that distracted me from much else going on in my cup. Tasty but a little jarring. I honestly think I’m just not quite in a place to sit and commune with leaves right now, too, body or mind, so this is a grain-of-salt take and a pause button until such time…

Wet dog, flowers, melon. Initially reminded me of lemonade in the lightness and delight without a lot of depth or body, though it thickened up and got some astringency later on. Refreshing.