Wild Harvested

Tag: danzhu

  • Mengsong and the Anatomy of a Relentless Huigan. TdC Sanmai Village Danzhu Sheng Pu’er Spring 2024

    Mengsong and the Anatomy of a Relentless Huigan. TdC Sanmai Village Danzhu Sheng Pu’er Spring 2024

    In Sanmai, the harvest embodies collective power, it remains there, sedimented, like the slow burn of an inexhaustible cultural fire. It reemerges in the ritual act, with the tension that grows as the air’s humidity rises, escalating like a migraine that starts at the base of the skull and radiates to the eyes. Hope mingles with the fear that the rain might arrive at the wrong moment, transforming the river into a clay demon and the crumbling mountain into an army of rock.

    Here, Mengsong seems to speak through the very stones of the houses. And what it says is not just a verb numbed by modernity, but an echo that comes from far away, from a larger world, perhaps lost, but still alive in the people. It kindles itself on the walls, becomes flesh, becomes identity. The fragile power of its tea is like the fire in Ella Fitzgerald’s voice resonating in the aorta. You cannot ignore it.

    These are not odes nor exercises in writing. This is ground zero of the attempt to understand. To truly come into contact with a tea that hides in sensory detail, that, like its land, wears you down and demands understanding at the edges of perception.

    This danzhu from Thés Terre de Ciel is a truly unexpected tea, unsettling in some respects. We are often accustomed to teas from Naka, Benglong, Bameng, with their floral, sometimes fruity, gentle characters. But Sanmai doesn’t play with gloves on. It is a clean, precise, yet powerful tea. The Qi is profoundly forest-like, dense, almost physical; it seems to influence every mechanoreceptor. You feel it in your hands, your legs, your stomach. It seeps into the nerve plexuses, as if the body were enhancing the perception of every distal extremity, of each of its boundaries.

    The huigan is long, incessant. It lingers. The bitterness is there, but it doesn’t last. It retreats quickly, making way for a mineral, almost effervescent, electric sensation that settles on the sides of the tongue, along with a sweetness that makes no compromises. Salivation is continuous, rhythmic, like waves that come without pause. Like the crowd at Glastonbury, a constant flow. Every infusion up to the twelfth is a tactile theater, alive, dense, full. No drop, no faltering.

  • Viet Sun Giàng Pằng 1 Big Tree sheng pu’er spring 2024

    Viet Sun Giàng Pằng 1 Big Tree sheng pu’er spring 2024

    Giàng Pằng, it was the discovery of this village and its history, its culture and the ancestral nature of its landscapes that began what would be the focus of my attention for the last two years.

    If we were in other parts of the world people would be there taking photos, absorbed, writing farewell poems about the transience of some exotic flower and the ephemeral duration of youth, but here there are only people, real people bent over by fatigue, with their colorful bandanas, clinging to their tenacity and resilience.

    The streets are harsh, steep, the cinnamon bark is exposed to the sun, the tea is drying on bamboo mats, even the chickens think of the ephemerality of youth perched on wooden beams.

    Here where not even the setting sun seems to find rest, the old tea trees appear like lignified bodies in an archaic dance, in a land that loves no middle ground. The clouds and rains rage in a despotic manner while the fog calms down giving a conciliatory impression, each element is in a disorderly way part of an atavistic work, a fragment of the dawn of the ages.

    An anti-geometric vision where modernity barely finds space, where the succession of mountains in the distance creates its own rhythm in a primordial and perpetual order.

    This is where VN tea becomes great and it can only be like this, because like every other mountain where the gods have found refuge, great things do not happen on slopes that do not bring suffering.

    This Viet Sun teacomes from a batch processed by Steve, from a single big tree, in the spring of 2024, and is the juxtaposition between verticality and softness, between flesh, bone and soul.

    The leaves are reminiscent of wild sour green plums, dehydrated longan with a slightly smoky streak, the aromas then focus on the undergrowth, apple wood and then give way to plum, aromatic herbs and light leathery nuances.


    The sip is sartorially silky, measuredly round, with light bitterness and light astringency that ends with an excellent huigan. The strong qi accompanies an aromatic playground that goes from green melon to persimmons, in a continuous evolution infusion after infusion until it fades into accords of plum jam and alpine flowers bouquet.