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I was intrigued to see this relatively uncommon tea on Teabento’s website. This seems to be part of the trend to turn varietals that are usually made into white or green teas into blacks, sometimes with mixed results. Thanks for providing a sample for me to try!

The leaves aren’t pressed flat as in the green version of this tea, but are your standard spindly, somewhat fragmented hongcha. Upon opening the bag, I understand why Teabento decided to call it Plum Rooster, as the scent of plum skin and barley sugar hits my nose. I followed their steeping directions for infusions of 1 minute, 30 seconds, and 3 minutes at 185F, although I used a 120 ml vessel and about 3 grams of tea.

The first steep has that plummy note, combined with barley sugar and florals. The aftertaste is kind of starchy, reminding me weirdly of raw potato. There’s no astringency or bitterness present, and if I didn’t know better, I’d swear someone had added sugar to this.

In the second steep, the plummy note seems even sweeter and more berry-like, maybe like blackberries or cranberries. This is a very sugary tea! It’s also smooth and easy to drink.

The third steep of three minutes is less fruity and a bit drying; maybe I used too much leaf and should have shortened it. The sweetness, though, persists. An attempted fourth steep of six minutes was similar and I think the tea is finished at this point.

While I enjoyed trying this tea, I don’t think it’ll be replacing my Yunnan or Taiwanese staples anytime soon. It’s kind of similar to a black Dan Cong I tried from Camellia Sinensis, leading me to wonder whether these “non-traditional” varieties tend to produce very sweet black teas. (Clearly, more research is needed!) That sweetness is also the main point of similarity between it and regular Long Jing, as it lacks the typical nutty flavour. All in all, I’m pleased to have expanded my horizons.

Thanks to Teabento for providing this sample! Bug-bitten teas are a favourite of mine, and I’m excited to be looking at ones that don’t come from Taiwan. Unlike its Taiwanese counterparts, this Vietnamese version is lightly rolled into small pellets. Upon opening the bag, I get typical bai hao aromas of stewed fruits, citrus, sandalwood, and spices—yum! I followed Teabento’s directions and did steeps of 2, 1, and 3 minutes in 185F water; I used about three grams of leaf in a 120 ml vessel, which is slightly more than the 1 g:50 ml ratio they seem to recommend.

The first steep reminds me why I love bai hao so much. White grapes, pears, and citrus combine with a perfumey note that I’ll describe as sandalwood for lack of a better equivalent. No astringency is present and the aftertaste is long.

Ah, this is good! The second and third steeps are very similar to the first, though maybe a touch more woody. Those who don’t appreciate spicy or perfumey notes may be put off by this, as they’re pretty strong, but I really enjoy it. I managed to coax a fourth and fifth steep out of these leaves before they started declining.

This bai hao was a pleasure to drink and compares favourably with Taiwanese versions. I’d gladly buy it again!

Teabento generously provided this sample for review. I love bug-bitten teas and am excited to try some non-Taiwanese versions for comparison. I used slightly more than a teaspoon of leaf in my 120 ml teapot and followed Teabento’s steeping directions of 2, 1, and 3 minutes at around 195F.

The leaf is somewhat broken and many have silvery hairs. Upon opening the bag, citrus is the first thing that hits me, followed by muscatel and malt. The aromas intensify in the preheated teapot.

The first two-minute steep smells like a second flush Darjeeling. I get muscatel, lemon, and malty honey, with a tiny bit of astringency. This tea is also delightfully sweet.

The maltiness falls away in the second steep, leaving sweet muscatel and citrus. The tea is somewhat drying and while it’s tasty, it’s not too complex. The third steep continues along these lines, though the pronounced citrus flavour is also starting to fade and the astringency is picking up. I also get a bit of a raisin aroma from the cooled liquid.

I attempted a five-minute fourth steep, but they were right to recommend only three.

Compared to Taiwanese bai hao, Himalayan Donkey is a much less complex animal. What there is of it is great, but like many Indian teas, it lacks staying power. It would be interesting to cold brew this to make the most of its sweetness while minimizing astringency.

Teabento generously sent me over eight of their teas to review, and this is the first of them. I followed the steeping directions on the package, but since I don’t have a 200 ml vessel, I used a 120 ml teapot with about 4 grams of leaf. I steeped the tea for 50, 40, 60, 90, and 120 seconds. (I usually use more tea and do shorter steeps with high mountain oolongs.)

When first scooped into the teapot, the loosely rolled green nuggets smell sweet and savoury. The initial 50-second steep is buttery, floral and vegetal with no astringency. There’s also a lovely herbaceous/balsam note in the teapot that I wish had made it into the cup. More of this note emerges in the second steep, and while the bok choy-like vegetal quality is still present, the tea also becomes more floral (sweet pea flowers or something equally delicate, perhaps). I’m impressed that such long steeps produce no bitterness.

The next two steeps confirm that this is definitely one of the most vegetal Shan Lin Xi I’ve had, either because I used markedly different brewing parameters than usual or because this is its natural flavour. The balsam note also stays around, along with the sweetness. By the fifth steep, some of the complexity has disappeared, though the distinctive sweetness and vegetal notes remain.

Although I don’t think this is a typical tea for the terroir, it’s a very good one, and depending on the price, I’d gladly purchase it again. I’ll have to try the rest of the sample using my regular brewing parameters.

I need to start finishing my older teas. I remember this one being more complex, but today, I’m getting roast, honeysuckle, and minerals. I filled the pot halfway full of leaf and the results are fairly astringent. I’m not tasting the orchid and stonefruit notes mentioned by other users; maybe that’s because the tea is old, or because I brewed it incorrectly. I have one more session’s worth of this tea, though that will probably be even more bitter because it’s the broken leaves at the bottom of the bag. This dan cong was okay, but I’m not inclined to buy it again.

This 2017 harvest is actually DJ-16, which I think means that it’s a slightly earlier invoice. In the bag, it smells like dried flowers, herbs, and stonefruit. After a 3:30 steep at 195F, these flavours become more prominent. There’s not a lot of astringency, and the peach and muscatel make this tea pleasantly sweet, balancing out the herbaceousness that I think is characteristic of FF Darjeelings.

A five-minute second steep is surprisingly good, though I’ve learned from experience not to push it beyond that to “extract all the flavour!”

This is my first time trying this oolong. Scott recommended it to me as fruity, so I’m hoping for the best. I steeped 6 grams of tea in a 120 ml porcelain teapot.

25 and 20 sec steeps at around 195F: I really had to work to detect the flavours here. Vegetal, heavy bodied, no astringency, that “jade” type of taste. There’s some sweetness if I squint, but nothing I’d say is fruity.

40 secs with boiling water: I upped the temperature to try to pull more out of the tea. There’s a tiny bit more astringency, but it does have a stronger vegetal flavour and a nice aftertaste that could be guava or some other tropical fruit. The sip itself doesn’t taste fruity though.

50, 60, 90 secs with boiling water: I let the leaves cool after the fourth steep and they smelled like marjoram or some other herb. Wish I had names for all these flavours/aromas! The taste and aftertaste remain pretty consistent. One thing I like about the oolongs I’ve tried from Taiwan Sourcing is their consistently long aftertaste.

So is this tea fruity? Kind of, though I don’t think that’s its primary attribute. I’ll need to experiment with the rest of my sample.

I’ve sampled every harvest of this oolong since I started drinking loose-leaf tea in 2015, so you could say it’s an all-time favourite. There are teas that are more complex, last longer, and get more attention online, but I keep coming back to this one because of its approachability.

Just as the description from Camellia Sinensis promises, it hits you with strong cherry, coconut, and wheatgrass notes. (I probably couldn’t have put my finger on the wheatgrass flavour if the website hadn’t mentioned it, but once you know what to look for, it’s unmistakable.) Unfortunately, the tea doesn’t have staying power, usually losing its fruitiness and turning vegetal by around the sixth gongfu steep. Alternatively, I can get three good Western infusions out of it. At $20 CAD for 50 grams, it’s also a decent price for an oolong from this area.

This is a wonderful everyday tea—not so complex that I need to think about it, and bold enough to stay interesting.

This is an oolong from an area best known for producing black teas. The first things I notice about it are its honey-like sweetness and buttery mouthfeel, combined with a mild astringency. It has a long, floral aftertaste and seems to pack quite a caffeine punch. In later steeps, I get umami and spinach notes, but the sweetness never really goes away. This is a good tea, though it lacks the fruity flavours I look for in jade oolongs.

I agree with the high ratings people have been giving this tea. I’m drinking the spring 2016 harvest and am down to my last couple sessions.

The fuzzy golden leaves produce a copper brew that evokes rye bread with dark chocolate chips. It’s possible to oversteep this, but even when it’s bitter, it still tastes good. I’ll definitely be restocking this tea.