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This tea, I fear, did not receive care nearly as good as it probably deserved. Specifically, it sat in a Harney’s sample bag for…???? I really have no idea, but it’s longer than it should have. Still, at least those things are opaque and pretty airtight, so such a bag is hopefully not the worst storage the leaves could have endured.

When I opened the bag, I was immediately hit by a rush of nostalgia. I don’t know how to describe it, but whenever I’ve ever opened one of those little black Harney and Sons sample packets containing any sort of unflavored black tea, there’s always initially been virtually the same smell. Good thing it’s a pleasant smell! The dry leaf, as you can see in my not-quite-seven-ounce glass teapot pictured in the tea image, was pretty but not especially distinctive.

I was making this tea on my ‘day off,’ away from my usual setup, so I had to time the three minutes on my phone. At first sip, all I could think of was “Keemun.” It wasn’t as winey, and lacked as strong of a certain indescribable note I call the “Keemun Edge,” but it was strikingly similar to my memories of Keemun. Keemun with less wine and Edge is, for me, a good thing, since I dislike wine and the “Keemun Edge” makes me feel inexplicably queasy after about one cup, but the resemblance to Keemun – a certain multigrain bread note underneath something sharpish and liquidy; yes, I know this is not a great description – was strong enough that I decided to do a little quick-googling to find out if they were from the same province. This specific Gulou is long gone from the Harney and Sons website, but they had some other Gulous, so I was able to confirm the tea is probably from Hunan Province. Another google, because I really have forgotten almost as much as I ever knew, revealed that Keemun is from Anhui Province, so nope, they aren’t from the same province. Time for a bit more google….

Just pulling up a provincial political map of China, I…initially took a really long time to find Hunan, to the point that I had to check that it didn’t have any alternative spellings. Eventually, though, I found it, and it is not adjacent to Anhui Province. Anhui is further north, and parts of two other, side-by-side provinces – Hubei and Jiangxi – stand between it and Hunan. Since the resemblance between the two really was striking, though, I googled around some more to find an elevation map. I couldn’t immediately find one with the provincial lines laid out over the topography, but by using the Sichuan Basin and the coastline as guideposts, I managed to make what felt like a reasonably plausible guess about which bits of the topographical map were Anhui and Hunan. If I’m right about where they are, then they share almost the exact same, very low elevation, just above sea level, so I suppose that plus proximity could contribute a lot to the two teas’ similarity.

I drank this a few days ago, so I can’t comment on the exact color, which only survives in a photograph taken for a tumblr review which the Internet ate. Thanks for that, Internet. It looks like it was a pretty, clear medium brown, though. Since it was a Chinese tea, I decided on a whim to try resteeping the leaves for a while, which is when I noticed that the wet leaves smelled remarkably much like Cadbury Egg! This was a good thing from my point of view, as I am very, very partial to Cadbury Eggs every spring. For this second steeping, I left the tea to its own devices for as long as it took me to walk around the house to the basement, unload the dryer, reload the dryer with wet clothes from the washer, and then put more dirty clothes in the washer. This was at least five minutes, probably a bit longer. When I poured the second cup, the color was exactly the same as the first, though now with bubbles around the edges for some reason. As I drank the tea, it retained strong flavors that were pretty distinct from each other – more distinct from each other than they were in the first cup, really. I got a bit of chocolate (sadly, not the sweet Cadbury kind, but chocolate) and a lot of that multigrain bread impression. Unfortunately, I also started really tasting the Keemun Edge on this one, so I didn’t attempt a third steeping. The leaves felt like they were close to ‘done’ anyway, though, and 12oz of a Keemun-like taste without feeling sick seemed like a reasonable amount of tea to get out of one spoonful of leaves. It’s not something I think I’d buy a whole tin of, but it was pleasant enough for special-tea Saturday, anyway.