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The leaves have a nice smell to them – a bit like fresh moss, pine, and sweet grass, may something citrusy mixed in there. The wet leaf is floral with that moss-forest-y vibe. The floral and grassy notes are transferred into the infusions. I’d say this tea is quite stable with each infusion being similar to previous ones. Perhaps the 2nd infusion has the most pronounced floral character and has the most body. ‘Zairai’ senchas tend to remind me of Chinese green teas and this is no exception. There is a sharpness that is almost gasoline-like that reminds me of very fresh sheng pu’er tea. If you have a sensative stomach, you might find this tea slightly unpleasant during the initial steeps, but I was fine. There’s a balance that’s struck by the thick, soft body of the second and 3rd infusions and the moss-like vibe in the. nose that counters the sharp grassy/gasoline-y-ness. It’s a unique tea for sure.

I haven’t posted in over 2 years, so forgive me if I’m behind the times on my tea lingo. I purchased this as a sample from Scott’s 2021 lineup. I drank this one gongfu style, per usual, but also blind since I’m unfamiliar with the tea’s region and couldn’t remember description or the price/g.

It’s an interesting tea. It lacks that generic sheng aroma of apricots which I do like but will trade for uniquness.

This tea reminded me more of Scott’s Wuliang pressings in many aspects. The dried tea leaves were smaller than usual. The processing needs some work, as many of the leaves looked broken in my tea chunk, which also has happened before with mainly Wuliang teas. When brewed, the aroma had an orchid-like character that placed this somewhere between Wuliang and Bangdong teas.

In fact, the only thing that links this tea with Jinggu is that the flavor strongly resembles Da Mao Shan teas Scott had pressed in 2017, which are also quite different from other Jinggu teas.

There are sharp floral notes and a good amount of grassiness. I’m a sencha guy and generally like greener shengs, so this combination is just fine. There is good depth and some earthiness in the background. The tea is very present in the back of the mouth and throat, and there’s good cha qi. My wife commented on the aroma being soft. I would agree. I’m enjoying the long sweet floral and minty finish…there’s a hint of jasmine in there.

It’s worth a try for sure, especially since I don’t see Scott pressing any Wuliang teas this year.

I purchased the Uji Sencha Jubuzan but received this tea as a sample. It was an unexpected surprise, as I’ve been curious about this tea….would it be floral like a green oolong (as stated on the website) or would it still maintain that sencha bittersweetness that I prefer?

When brewed, the floral green oolongy-ness was immediately obvious in the aroma, along with that typical sencha grassiness, which I really like). And no, I didn’t stick my nose into the tea leaves to get a whiff. I typically expect this high-level of aroma from Taiwanese oolongs instead of senchas, but there you go.

Initial steeps were more vegetal than expected and later steeps were quite floral….the opposite of what I normally experience with sencha. It has a clarity and brightness that I find more often in Chinese greens than in senchas. There’s also a nice, almost viscous mouthfeel and a penetrating aftertaste that really lingers.

It’s really quite a robust tea in that it can be steeped more than 8 times gongfu style. The ninth steep is still very flavorful and the brewed leaves are continue to be floral. I’ll have to include this tea in my next order from Hojotea.

This tea has been offered at O-cha since I can remember. I have to say upfront, I have very mixed feelings about this tea. It’s very ordinary and probably overpriced, as there are less expensive teas on that site that are much more interesting…for example…the Sayamakaori Organic Sencha and Zairai Organic Kirishima Sencha.

Also…after drinking lots of Chinese green tea the year, I feel I may be a tad spoiled by the intactness of those leaves, making be a bit critical of senchas. I’m finding even most light steamed teas cannot compete with wholeness of Chinese green tea leaves. It would be nice if the Japanese could get over their obsession with uniform leaf size—their excuse for chopping up what would have been intact leaves into lawn clippings.

Poor aesthetics and mediocrity aside, the dry leaves are pleasantly aromatic – as dried sencha should be. Actually, that’s probably my favorite aspect of this tea. If smell could be a drug, fresh sencha leaf aroma would be meth.

Admittedly, this is a well-balanced sencha with some interesting moss and mineral notes that give it some character. There’s also a fresh sugar snap pea note that I like. I think the opaque, mellow tea soup has a comforting quality to it. Do I recommend this tea? If fukamushi is your thing, you’ll probably like it. While I’ve had better, I’m still glad I tried this one.

This one sold out quickly last year, so I had to try it out this time around. I’d say Yuuki-cha’s description is spot on. It’s definitely not your typical Japanese sencha—less vegetal and more fruity, floral, oceanic. If chlorophyl had a named flavor, I’d add it to the list. It has a very nice body for a light-steamed sencha. The tea liquor is clear yet more green than some gyokuro I’ve had. It induces a very calming and cooling feeling. It’s perfect for summer.

For those that care, I brewed this with a gaiwan and rough-clay yakishime kyusu. The early steeps with the gaiwan are more sharp and floral—even somewhat grassy. The kyusu brewed a more balanced and aromatic cup with more distinctive mineral and moss/sweet forest notes. Taste-wise, I can’t say I prefer one brewing method over the other, aside from the kyusu being more aesthetically pleasing, which enhances the whole sencha-drinking experience, IMO.

This one arrived two days ago. It’s a very comforting tea that, to me, differs somewhat from its description and that can be a good thing. I don’t get anything that reminds me of citrus or fruits (as described by Yuukicha) which I actually think is fine since I prefer more warming-savory flavors this time of year.

This has roasted notes possessing a savory-sweetness that reminded me of naturally sweet chestnut and acorn. This is reflected in the aromas of the wet leaf, which is much closer to deep steamed sencha, as there aren’t any intact leaves here (Yuukicha describes the leaves as mostly intact).
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There’s a depth and complexity in the aroma and aftertaste that reminds me of a primordial forest. It has that certain rustic charm that I think is unique to Japanese sencha. It’s perfect for those early autumn mornings.

The tea soup is quite clear and pale green in color. Its sweet, mellow flavors were pretty straight forward and enjoyable, but there are other hidden flavors that can be picked up if the drinker sits quietly with the tea.

The light vegetal notes remind me of fresh young spinach from the garden, young fern, and alfalfa. Oceanic notes are reminiscent of roasted Korean nori. It just feels very clean and pure. The tea coats the tongue with a luxurious softness and subtle vibration as it goes down the throat, which I attribute to how well it was processed.

I haven’t had gyokuro for over a decade. Mainly due to it’s overly seaweed-like and umami-heavy flavor. I’ve definitely had pleasant oceanic notes in sencha, but the way these flavors are expressed in most gyokuro weren’t enjoyable and felt artificial to me. However, Yuuki-cha sells very reliably good green tea. Period. Thus, I thought I’d give gyokuro another try, especially since their Kirishima Gyokuro Saemidori was $13/50g at time of purchase. I wasn’t disappointed!

Nowadays, I find myself reaching for this tea more often than my young sheng pu’er. In all it’s subtly and softness, I find I don’t have to pay attention to this tea to enjoy it. It’s perfect for work as well as relaxation.

I’ve had this sample lying around for over a year. I tried it the year it was pressed and didn’t like the sweet fruity rum, dates, prunes, and molasses flavor combos I was getting then. I’m sure those notes sound nice to some folks, but it reminded me too much of Christmas fruit cake – something I strongly dislike.

Well, here I am revisiting this one on a cool, rainy Sunday afternoon…and I’m happy with where it’s at. It’s a lot more subtle and complex. Much less boozy and sweet. There’s a little brandy and dried fruit in the front, but it quickly moves into the background, allowing more subtle notes of brown sugar, green wood, Chinese dates (hence the “zao” in tea’s name), and sandalwood. The tea’s bitterness and astringency comes through as the liquid cools in the cup. It’s not overwhelming, but just enough to add interest. In a way, the bitterness exhibits the tea’s clean nature. It transforms into a very nice huigan, which mingles for a while with some residual bitterness on the tongue and in the back of the mouth.

These subtle notes allow the drinker to enjoy the tea’s less tangible aspects — warming qi, tingly and cooling sensations on the tongue, and strong mouthfeel. The qi is felt in the chest and back of the head. It’s got a nice calming energy that lasts a while, making mundane tasks, such as vacuuming, more meditative. All in all, the tea has become more subtle, but definitely distinct and more pleasurable. It will stay with the drinker throughout the day.

(If you don’t want to read my thoughts, skip down to the last three paragraphs for flavor notes.)

I’m under the impression that most of us in the West have yet to experience really good white tea. For whatever reason, white teas just aren’t popular outside the Chinese cultural realm. And Westerners who practice gongfu-stlyle tea drinking gravitate towards oolong, black, pu’er, and green teas.

White tea is comparatively more subtle, which requires more attention from the tea drinker to appreciate its nuances. You’d be hard pressed enough patience in a post-modern Western society to generate a market for something as soft-spoken as authentic Fujian white tea.

I think of white tea as naked tea. It cannot impress with flavor and aroma alone like, say, an Assam black tea or Taiwanese high mountain oolong. Therefore, leaf quality and skilled processing will have to speak for themselves – which my fellow sheng pu’er drinkers understand can be expressed via: mouthfeel, aftertaste, sensations (cooling/tingling/silky), viscosity, qi, and throat / body feel.

Cindy emphasized the strength of this tea, and I can see why. I haven’t had a white tea like this before. This tea has all of the above, including strong aroma (ripened peach and pear and fresh chamomile flowers) and subtle, sophisticated flavors (Korean pear, chamomile, sweet grass, raw sugar cane juice, and a hint of nutmeg).

What’s really incredible about this tea is it’s very strong mouthfeel, which combined with qi will take the drinker for a nice euphoric ride. The leaves are quite green and non-uniform compared with regular silver needle – which to me makes them more attractive.

I drank this at work with a tumbler and at home using a gaiwan. Maybe my office’s water filter was recently switched, but I enjoyed my office session a lot more. I had to actually step away from drinking it because the combo of qi and mouthfeel was so intense. It made the world stop for a moment.

This is the kind of green tea I’ve been looking forward to all winter. I sort of internally celebrate each year’s harvest – it’s really my chance to experience different tea regions. Based on the description, this one is from Zheng He county in Fujian, where Cindy sources her Advanced Bai Mu Dan white tea. I think it shares many similarities with that tea.

The dry leaf aroma is intoxicating – ripe fruit and orchids. It has good structure to it – beyond just flavors, as it’s more subtle than other green teas, with a sweetness that is closer to mineral than vegetal. It somewhat resembles the Laoshan imperial green tea (of which I am a fan) in appearance and Huangshan maofeng in its flavor characteristics, but I this one wins in terms of qi, mouthfeel, and depth. It also feels more refined and can for at least 7 steeps.