Back when I first fell in love with loose leaf tea, I quickly discovered Adagio. Compared to my other favorite of the time, Upton Tea Imports, Adagio had a sleek website, a more curated selection, and excellent packaging. Their online communities provided a space for tea discussion long before Steepster. While their selection is great, their focus on mass-appeal teas and blends eventually led me to more specialty shops and I haven’t been back for years. Unexpectedly, last week I had the opportunity to get my hands on some of their newer offerings. Specifically I went right for the “Master’s Collection” that seemed to fit my interests. Fair warning: I received a gift certificate from Adagio that paid for most of the cost of these teas.
Having spent a wondrous adventure drinking tea in Pinglin, Taiwan, my first pick was what Adagio calls “Formosa Pouchong”. While exotic-sounding, this is an old way of referring to Bāo zhǒng oolong tea (包種茶). If you’ve never encountered these names, I’ll unwrap it a bit. “Formosa” is Portuguese for “beautiful” and it was a name used for the island of Taiwan from the 1500s through until the Japanese occupation in the late 1800s. A particular style of green oolong (light bodied, light roasted or un-roasted) is produced in the Wen Shan area in the north of Taiwan that is known as Bāo zhǒng or “wrapped item”. The name likely comes from some of the steps used in processing these gently twisted green leaves. Before the advent of modern Pinyin transliteration, “Bao zhong” was often rendered as “Pouchong” in the West, and here it sometimes remains.
If you’d like to read more about Bao zhong or Pinglin and my time there, I have several posts on the topic ranging from my original telling of the story, to some tasting notes, to a comparison of different leaves.
I brewed these dark green leaves at 90°C for 2 minutes. The dry leaf was dark and matte green. In my experience most Bao zhong is fairly bright. Unlike some rolled or more heavily roasted oolongs, I think Bao zhong is best consumed during the five month period after its harvest and a dull leaf can sometimes point to older tea. Once in the cup, however, a bright green liquor and delicate flavors told a different story. This tea brings to mind ancient moss-covered temples and glowing statues of Quan Yin.
Here’s what Adagio has to say about this tea, which I’d say accurately summarizes the color of the liquor and the texture on the tongue.
The liquor is a pale golden-green color with melting-butter texture, uplifting floral notes and mild, succulent flavor. The sweet floral nose lingers long after the last sip.
I managed a good four infusions, increasing the time of each, before this began to loose its flavors. Longevity like that in an oolong is a good sign of quality leaf. The aroma of toasted sunflower seeds and nuts was just as I was expecting, although it was considerably less pronounced than some Bao zhong I’ve had in the past. The body is excellent and buttery in the mouth, making for a good session tea. I’d recommend this for big cups and bold brews rather than sipping delicate gongfu infusions.
Wen Shan Bao zhong is always a treat for the senses, and can be a surprise for those who’ve never had such a lightly oxidized oolong before. Its flavors are almost overlapping with the character of a Liu’An Guapian or Long Jing – both quintessential Chinese green teas – and yet there’s also something more. A subtle air lives in this kind of tea that pervades the mind and brings a sense of calm, where green tea would raise the energy instead. Overall, I’m glad to see that Adagio can source some unexpected treasures and spread more good tea into the world.
