1. Art and Diseño

Wash, Enjoy:
A Story about Tea and Friendship
Jesse Steele
Smashwords Edition
Copyright © 2015 Jesse Steele
Any part of this book may be copied, printed, or otherwise reproduced on the
condition that it remains unedited and that the author, title, and subtitles (where
applicable) are cited. In critical works, an entire paragraph must be quoted within
normal, main content, perhaps using block quoting, with proper referencing,
preceding comment and critique, which may make use of multiple selected quotes
thereafter. On no condition may statements be modified and ascribed to the work or
its author. Quotes via social or limited media, such as Twitter, do not need any citation
nor do they need to be complete. If reprinted, the following statement must precede
the above Copyright statement, which must also be included:
“This book is redistributed in accordance to the copyright statement herein. The
original publication has ISBN…” where the original ISBN (below) is indicated.
books.JesseSteele.com
[email protected]
Jesse Steele on Smashwords
ISBN: 978-131-004-730-5
For Hank
Who showed me tea
And for Noah
Who inspired this book
Table of Contents
For Hank and Noah
Introduction
About the Author
Introduction
xx
Living in Asia
When I first moved to Asia, I wasn’t expecting to end up selling tea. It
thought it would be a two-year deal where I’d learn about another country,
pick up a new language, then go back to America to get into business and
politics. I did get into business and politics, but not so much as I had
intended. The politics are another story. This is a story about tea and
friendship.
After three years in Asia, I walked up to the third story of a typical Taiwanese
company. They are built like townhouses with somewhat of a garage door
that completely closes off the only entrance at the front. When open, double
doors welcome the public into a shop on the first, and sometimes the shop
continues to second, floor. Depending on the size of the company, the
higher floors turned into staff lounges, meeting rooms, or even the personal
residence of the company owner.
In a sense, Asia’s “Every family has a business” concept is almost Jewish.
Taiwan is somewhat of an “island-Israel” of the Pacific. It’s about the same
shape, though twice the size. It’s flowing with milk, honey, rivers, and many
kinds of fruit that many throughout the world haven’t even heard of. Taiwan
boasts some of the tallest mountains in the world. Though the island is
mostly covered in mountains, some reports claim it is the second-most
dense population in the world, second to Japan—and this includes the 3/4 of
the island covered in uninhabited mountains—on which the Taiwanese like
to grow fruit and, of course, tea.
If Taiwan were admitted to the United Nations, it would be among the top
75% in terms total population. Economically, Taiwan is a powerhouse.
Taiwan maintained an air force larger than China’s until shortly after the
turn of the century. If war broke out between America and China, Taiwan
would be at the center every bit as much as Israel, between the Islamic State
and the United States. These reasons, and others, are why I suggest that
Taiwan is like an “island-Israel” of the Pacific.
So, here I was, after three years, approaching the third floor of a small
Taiwanese company, built according to a business model similar to what
one might read about in the New Testament.
I was with my friend, Hank. He was a student of mine several years earlier.
The education system hadn’t exactly worked out for him. During my first
year in Taiwan, I gave him special tutoring lessons that involved running
around the classroom. He is a kinesthetic learner. So, Hank, his family, and I
developed a special bond. That was in my first year in Asia. This was in my
third.
Two days earlier, I was praying on the floor of my studio apartment, asking
the Lord what I should do. I asked Him that question a lot during my first
three years in Asia. As He would sometimes do, the Lord broke the silence
and said, “Do business with Hank.”
That was a strange thing. Hank was only a teenager. Then again, the best
ideas rarely make sense before trying them. And God, the best innovator in
the universe, is no exception. So, two days later, I went to Hank’s house.
As we approached the third floor on this casual visit, he told me that he
wanted to show me something. No sooner had we rounded the stairwell of
the third floor than I saw about 50 boxes, covered in gold-painted designs
and Chinese artwork. Hank, having very little English ability, but he knew
how to communicate. He opened one box and showed me the first Frisbeesized disc of Pu-erh tea I had ever seen. Thus began my long venture into the
world of tea.
I knew Pu-erh tea from my kung fu master. He taught me Yip Man Wing
Chun, like from Donnie Yen’s movie, Yi Man, the story of Bruce Lee’s
teacher. While my kung fu master taught me how kung fu martial arts, his
wife taught us kung fu tea. They once offered the class Pu-erh and have a tea
session every Sunday afternoon.
“If you give Asians Pu-erh tea,” he said, “they’ll love forever.” I wanted to test
this idea and gave a box of Pu-erh to my mechanic’s mother for Christmas.
Remember, this is a family-business culture. She was so astonished I had to
run away from the house in order to make her accept the gift. A few days
later she came to my apartment with a huge bag of coffee and Asian snacks.
Asians love Pu-erh.
So, when Hank showed me Pu-erh tea on the third floor of his house, I knew
he had a gold mine somewhere. Many conversations would follow.
One time, Hank wanted to discuss logistics. Using a vocabulary of about 20
words, Hank, then 13, drew a diagram of Taiwan, China, the US, and the
Pacific Ocean, outlining shipping and cash-flow. When he finished, I took a
picture as evidence that this child prodigy was no waste of humanity. Then I
told him that UPS already had solutions to most of his questions.
It wasn’t much longer before I set up a meeting with his parents to discuss
how they had gotten their hands on Pu-erh tea and how we could sell it in
America. I was introduced to other tea companies, scheduled meetings with
various tea farms, and began learning how to make Asian kung fu tea.
During the process, I had been in contact with a friend back in the States,
Noah. He and I struck up a friendship just before I left for Taiwan and he was
interested in selling tea. So, everything seemed to come together.
The special thing about Asian tea is not the health benefit, though Asian tea
is quite healthy. It’s either harvested with a machine or by hand. Handpicked tea tends to be better because it has more of the leaves and fewer of
the stems. It’s also more expensive because of the extra time it takes and
because each bag has more of the good stuff.
But hand-picked or machine-harvested, all tea goes through a process of
drying, rolling, and baking before its bagged. That simple process keeps the
tea in a more natural state. Some say that breaking the leaves has about the
same destructive effect as using pesticides. The idea behind Asian kung fu
tea is that it’s healthy, simply because the tea is not overly-processed before
being put into the bag. So, you have to do the processing yourself when you
drink the tea. That process is called “kung fu”.
Asian loose-leaf tea is not ground and mixed with other ingredients to make
an instant-beverage often called “tea” in the West. It’s just the simple, raw
product. That’s why Asian tea is not the typical, Western “cup of tea”.
Asian “tea time” involves everyone in the process of making tea. It’s not only
healthier from the perspective of simplicity. It brings a full cultural
experience. The process is longer, it brings people together, and it is a
common Asian pastime.
In the West, we take our time eating meals together. Asians, however, eat in
a hurry, usually because they want to get back to work. The two main
exceptions are fondue—which, in Taiwan they call a “hot pot”—and the
other, kung fu tea.
Asians drink tea all the time. At least two tea stands sit on each corner. In
Californian Chinatowns they call them “tea stations” since “station” and
“stand” are alternate ways to translate the Chinese word for “kiosk”. When
you visit someone’s house, they will often order tea from one of the local tea
stands. Orders of $10 USD or more come with free, local delivery and a WalMart-size bag of heat-sealed 32oz cups filled with any of 50 types of tea on
the menu. At one fondue restaurant, the two sided sign reads, “Open for
Business,” on one side and, on the other, “Drink Tea.”
High school and junior high students will sit at the computer, playing games
with a 32oz cup of tea sitting on the desk. Receptionists keep a 32oz tea
beneath the desk. When neighborhood gangs ride around on their
motorcycles at night, creating mild mischief, they often carry a 32oz cup of
tea in a “carry-out” bag. When street gangs get angry, they beat each other
with bamboo sticks, but they don’t spill the tea! While the Italian godfather
pours wine before “offing” someone, Asians buy him an over-sized tea.
Many establishments offer tea in the lobby. Almost every local police station
has a kung fu tea set. If you go in to report a lost wallet, stolen car, or if you
just want to talk to the police because they are so friendly—no matter what
your purpose—you’ll probably be invited to sit by the kung fu tea bench.
Then, the big, watery mess of leaves and clanging cups begins. For newbie
Westerners, it’s like stepping into a new world. For Asians, it’s just tea time.
The Kung Fu Tea Process
Learning to make kung fu tea took me about three different tea sessions,
each lasting about two hours, to figure out how the kung fu process works.
Though it has a lot of activity, it’s quite a simple process. The difficult part is
being willing to listen first and ask questions later. Making kung fu tea is
supposed to take some time. It’s not easy if you’re in a hurry to learn how to
make tea slowly.
As I began to understand the process and the purpose behind each step, I
invented my own names for the teapots and teacups—it uses at least three
pots and two cups. Asian culture has special names for them, but few people
know what they are because they know the process so well that they can just
refer to each pot as a “pot” and everyone understands. Western cooking
terms are much the same. We don’t refer to a salad fork as a “salad fork”
each time we use one.
For myself and when talking with Westerners, I referred the two pots as a
“make pot” and a “keeper”. The names are pretty self-explanatory, once you
understand the process. Now, about that…
On the one hand, I could explain the kung fu process by describing what
happens. That would likely confuse you as much as watching the process
confuses anyone. On the other hand, I could confuse you even more by
trying to be less confusing. So, I’ll try both ways, just to make it interesting…
Start the water boiling, then measure the tea for the make pot. Pour the
boiling water over all cups and pots, dump out all the water. Drop the
measured tea into the make pot, fill the pot with water, place the top on the
make pot, douse everything in water again, dump everything out again, fill
up the make pot again, douse everything in water again, put the water pot
back on the burner, place the filter on the keeper, pour the tea into the
keeper, fill the make pot again, douse everything in water again, pour the tea
from the keeper into the tea cups, place each tea cup inside another tea cup
and pass them to the guests, pour the tea into the keeper, fill the make pot
with water again, douse everything with water again, dump the tea from the
tea cups into the tea cups, fill the tea cups again, pour the tea into the
keeper, fill the make pot again, douse everything in water, dump the tea
from the tea cups into the tea cups, fill the tea cups from the keeper,
measure more tea, pour the tea into the keeper, grab the leaves from the
make pot with the tongs and throw them into the wet garbage can, dump the
measured tea into the make pot, fill the make pot with water, douse
everything in water, dump the tea out, fill the make pot with water, douse
everything in water, pour more tea into the tea cups, dump the tea from the
tea cups into the tea cups, then repeat.
If you remembered all that, you’re in trouble because you can never make
tea exactly the same way twice. It’s kind of like trying to memorize and
perform Abbot and Costello’s Who’s On First, which I have, by the way. The
secret to their comedy routines is that they didn’t memorize scripts, they
memorized outlines, cues, and wave points. I remember teaching the
routine to a high school buddy five minutes before going on stage at a talent
show. We pulled it off and even won the “green weenie” award for doing
such a good job at such a corny act.
So, rather than trying to teach you how to memorize the process of making
kung fu tea, I’ll teach you in about five minutes by telling you not what we
do at each step of the process, but why. Then, everything will make much
more sense.
Everything must be washed first.
Now, doesn’t that make a lot of sense? That explains why water is constantly
dumping all over everything. “Wash” doesn’t mean to wash with soap, but
with boiling water. Washing purifies and sterilizes. It makes all the pots and
cups warm. It “wakes up” the tea leaves before you start actually making tea.
The first part of stage of kung fu tea involves washing.
Washing and kung fu tea go even farther in Asian culture. In Hong Kong and
Cantonese restaurants, guests “wash” all bowls, spoons, and chopsticks by
pouring hot tea over them before meals. Servers bring a basin to collect the
wasted tea, then take it away when guests finish “cleaning”. Then, they drink
from the same teapot throughout the meal. Compared to boiling water, tea
is supposedly more cleansing and certainly more fragrant. But that gets too
much into other parts of Asian culture. Right now, we’re discussing tea.
The other thing to understand about making any kind of tea is that the tea
leaves, in hot water, continually “make” tea. The leaves are like a tea-making
factory. As they sit in hot water, tea constantly flows from them and the
water continuously changes into stronger and stronger tea. But the first 3
seconds of tea is bitter and includes a lot of dust from the farm. This is
somewhat of a “get start” taste as the leaves “wake up” (reconstituted to
their full size.) Understanding the chemical process of leaves and water, and
the “wash first” idea, brings everything together.
You don’t want the tea to be too strong nor too weak, though, like with
coffee, there is a “zone” of preference that varies from person to person.
Tea’s strength comes from a combination of time, amount of leaves, and
amount of water. The ideal measurement of leaves is that the leaves, once
fully “woken up”, will completely fill the make pot so that they almost lift up
the lid, almost. Filled with hot water, that many leaves with that much water
will make perfect tea in about 30 seconds.
The “make speed” changes throughout the life of the leaves. They are a little
slower in the beginning and a little slower at the end. Depending on the
breed and bake of the leaves, some tea can “make” for a longer period of
time than others.
With oolong, you can make between 5 to 10 pots on the same leaves. That
calculates to about 2 1/2 to 5 minutes of total “make” time. The first two
“makes” should be about 30 seconds, the third and fourth about 20 seconds,
after that, back to about 30. Once the tea leaves are finished (about 5-10
makes, depending on the breed and bake,) throw them in the trash and that
ends the “session”. Continue more sessions throughout the tea party.
But the timing is an art, not a science, and it’s about as consistent as mom’s
soul food. That’s Asian kung fu tea culture. And that’s why every tea session
is different.
Now, about that first three seconds of tea: It’s called “washing”. You don’t
only need to wash the pots and cups by pouring hot water all over them first,
you must also wash the leaves. When the leaves are dry and you first dump
them into the make pot, fill it with hot water and dump it out immediately
(hence 3 seconds.) This clears the first bitter taste of the leaves as they wake
up and removes any dust left over from the farm. Remember, these leaves
are not overly-processed. They are somewhat a version of “raw ingredients”.
So, first wash, then enjoy.
The two tea cups aren’t a must. You can use just a normal tea cup if you
want. But the full experience of kung fu tea starts with a tall, skinny tea cup,
which I call a “smeller” cup. The other is a normal teacup. Pour the tea into
the smeller first.
The tea pouring process cools the tea. After you start to pour, lift the pot high
into the air, sometimes above your head, or maybe only 4 inches from the
smeller cup. It’s your choice and largely depends on the situation. This
aerates the tea and allows it to cool as it passes through the air. More steam
rises, which concentrates the tea slightly.
Once you pour the tea into the smeller, place the smeller in the normal
teacup, as if it were a coaster, then serve it to your friends or take it to your
“drink space”. You may also set both cups on another coaster, usually a
rectangular piece of wood intended to coast both the smeller and the
teacup, but that comes in a few minutes.
The tallness of the smeller cup has a similar cooling effect to pouring at a
distance because it has more surface area than the normal teacup. So, roll
the smeller back and forth between your hands to cool it even quicker. In the
winter this can also warm your hands. Even though the cup may be very
warm, you can tolerate more warmth than from other teacups and coffee
mugs because the smeller only has contact with a narrow part of your hand,
which changes quickly as you roll.
Once the tea has had a few seconds to cool in the smeller cup, place the
normal tea cup over the top, upside down, like a hat. It may look something
like a mushroom. You can use one or two hands: place one finger on the
bottom of both cups, then flip. This seamlessly changes the tea from the
smeller to the normal teacup. Then, lift the smeller from the teacup, holding
it by the bottom. This is much like a prank kids play at restaurants with a
glass of water placed upside down on a plate.
After emptying the smeller, keep holding it by the bottom and hold the
smeller to your nose. You can smell the empty smeller to get a good whiff of
what the tea smells like. The smell is strong because of the extra surface area
of the tall smeller. Heat from the tea makes it evaporate quickly, producing
concentrated vapor. You should hold the empty smeller by the bottom
because, that way your hand is far from your nose. You want to smell the tea,
not your hand. Smelling the tea is every bit as much a part of drinking tea as
it is with coffee and wine.
To review this in simple terms: wash, pour tall, then flip. Smell, drink, and,
most of all, enjoy.
This process works well when a tea master is serving tea to a large party.
Each tea makes in about 30 seconds. New tea is continuously ready, the
master is constantly pouring, and teacups, smellers, and coasters constantly
move about.
After the first pouring, the tea is still ready, but teacups are not yet empty.
Fresh tea can go to the smellers to cool while people finish their old tea. But,
after a time, there is no more space for the new tea. It must be kept
somewhere. This is why kung fu tea has a separate pitcher for keeping extra
tea, which I call a “keeper”.
The keeper looks like a small pitcher. This is a secondary teapot that you can
keep extra tea in as you are making it. So, when you have new tea, but no
one is ready to drink, just empty the make pot into the keeper, rather than
the smeller. This way the tea isn’t overdone. It can sit and wait until you’re
ready for more.
In another way of making tea, all of the tea can go into the keeper before
drinking. As you can make tea five to ten times with one set of leaves, each
pouring will taste slightly different. By putting all makes of the tea into the
keeper before drinking, you get the full mix of tea flavors made by the leaves.
This would take about three to six minutes total. A tea master may do this to
use the kung fu make pot to prepare tea in advance for a larger gathering.
These are two ways to enjoy tea. Pour by pour is the sophisticated method of
tea judges and experts at competitions and other tastings. The full keeper is
more for simple enjoyment, but is by no means novice or lesser of an
experience.
A third option for making tea in large batches of tea is to brew the tea in large
tanks and allow the tea to make all at once. This is done by restaurants, tea
shops, and offices. Many Asian businesses and reception halls have a
thermos (a giant ‘keeper’) with tea, waiting to entertain guests. Many Asian
government offices and corporate lounges have a kung fu tea station ready
to welcome any visitors, one pour at a time.
Reading about kung fu tea parties in a book isn’t the best way to learn,
however. This chapter is not intended to help you know how to make tea
without making tea. The best way to understand Asian kung fu tea is to get
with some friends who know how and have a tea party.
The concept of “wash, enjoy” came up when Noah and I were discussing
how to make kung fu tea understandable to Americans. “I keep having to
explain it to people,” he said, “wash, steep, drink… wash, steep, drink. It
almost seems too complicated, but it shouldn’t be. People just don’t
understand the idea that the tea needs to be washed first.” After beating our
heads against our phones, that was the light bulb!
Learning how to make kung fu tea is not easy. I have visited many tea shops
and each one explains the process differently each time. Even the same tea
shop will give a different explanation each time they make tea!
The kung fu tea making process is so engrained into Asian culture that they
do it properly without knowing how they are doing it. It’s the same as how
Asians use chopsticks. They learned when they were very young by grabbing
at the chopsticks. They have no theory or technique. They cram the
chopsticks into their fingers and manipulate them with surgical accuracy,
but no game plan. If you ask someone born and raised in East Asia how to
use chopsticks, they’ll probably look at you and say, “I don’t know, just try
it.” And kung fu tea is much the same.
Holistic Health
Of the many renaissance movements circulating in America, the “purenature” nutrition approach to health is one of my favorite. It’s good to get
away from a symptom-treatment view of our health and get back to the roots
of what makes a person truly healthy. Asian tea culture helped me gain an
even deeper perspective of this.
America is approaching a “post-pharmacy” stage of history. This doesn’t
mean that the pharmaceutical industry is gone. But pharmacy is yesterday’s
newspaper and people are figuring it out quickly. I mark this transition
about one year after pharmacy advertisements had to include long and
equal air time descriptions of bad side effects. Once America realized that
pharmacy is a yeah-boo, the fad was over.
Pharmacy is finding its place in the archives while the West focuses on
learning that there are other, more important factors that contribute to our
overall well-being. Now, we’re in the age of “herbaceuticals”. Unfortunately,
we still have a symptom-treatment view of health, we’re just more interested
in finding plants to put in the medicine cabinet, rather than patented drugs.
This is where Asian tea can help us get to the next phase.
I won’t deny that certain foods can be more helpful than others in
addressing different and particular aspects of health. A British researcher
cured scurvy with six oranges and three lemons. The crown decreed
something similar: Each sailor was to eat one lime every day. This was the
origin of the nickname for British sailors, “Limeys”. That was an era when
the West was discovering the concept of nutrition, that some foods may be
more healthy than others, and each type of food had specific benefits.
I use the scurvy cure to prevent my own common colds. Oranges do a good
job. That saying about “an apple a day keeps the doctor away” works much
of the time. But this doesn’t mean that God made limes exclusively to
prevent scurvy and common colds. He made all the fruits of the earth for our
enjoyment—all except the fruit of knowledge, which was made for, well,
knowledge. The quest for “knowledge by fruit” rather than “knowledge by
experience” has its own drawbacks, as a guy named Adam might tell you.
But that’s another story.
The fruit of the garden was made for our enjoyment. Does that mean it was
made to keep us healthy? I guess so. I mean, I enjoy being healthy.
It can be fun to list different fruits, roots, nuts, leaves, and oils for their
various applications. But if we get too caught up in using nature to cure
diseases, we can lose the pleasure of simply enjoying what God gave us.
Moving toward a “natural” view of health doesn’t mean that we use
rosemary instead of ibuprofen. It means that we enjoy nature to a point
where we don’t get headaches in the first place. Rosemary isn’t for
headaches or abrasions, it’s for salad and chicken, or to mix with honey for a
surprisingly delightful glass of tea.
Those books and charts that reference what product of nature cures which
disease can really be useful—if you’re sick. Medicine is for sick people. Jesus
even said that the sick need a doctor, not the healthy people. So, because I
follow that healthy advice, I don’t often think of herbs, fruits, and vegetables
for the diseases they cure. I’m too busy enjoying them.
Living in Asian culture over the last six years taught me what it means to look
at health from a holistic vantage point. Most Taiwanese know that certain
fruits, vegetables, and herbs are useful for curing certain diseases. But they
don’t run around like wannabe know-it-alls, acting like they are ready to
diagnose and cure every disease they come across. They just have a taste for
healthy food.
So, in Asia, while the particulars of Chinese medicine aren’t known to
everyone, they are accepted by everyone. And with that perspective, they
grow all kinds of fruits at home and in their potted gardens that they keep
out on the streets and on their porches and roofs. They share in-season fruit
with each other almost every time they visit each other’s houses. “My
grandmother grows these. Have a bag,” they’ll say as they load each other
down with enough home grown bananas to last a week.
One of my favorites is Mandarin oranges—not in the can, these are fresh.
The orange sections almost float, suspended inside. The rind just falls off
without even needing a peeler. It’s one of the juiciest, freshest bites of an
orange you’ll ever experience. And when they give each other Mandarin
oranges, they don’t say, “Here, to prevent scurvy.” Nosir. They say, “We have
oranges. Yeah!”
Part of the concept of the concept of “wash, enjoy” distinguishes itself from
“wash and cure”. Of all the nutritious and curing delights that the Good Lord
made for us, happiness is one of the best. Worry can make the heart sick. So
can worrying about which natural cure one needs to eat every day. Once
good food becomes another page in a disease-treating book, the reader has
lost the joy of nature, the most important nutrient of all.
While I enjoy Asian tea and I want to share something great with my home
country, I also wanted to bring hope. We don’t need to look at our health
from the presumption of illness, which would lead to the idea that every
food we eat must be some kind of “cure” or “treatment” or “prevention. I
hope that our tea customers can quickly accept the presumption of health,
followed by the idea that we don’t eat food to cure, but to enjoy.
So, is oolong tea medicinal? Someone probably thinks so. If you’re
interested in that sort of thing, go look in one of those books. I’d only add,
make sure that you remember to enjoy it after washing.
As I said, in Asia, tea stands are everywhere! EVERYWHERE! They line
streets, one shop after another, all selling the same basic assortment of
oolong, green tea (not what Americans think, which is usually Japanese
sencha), ching-tea, Taiwanese red tea (a favorite,) and, if you’re lucky, they’ll
have Pu-erh or dark roasted oolong.
If you ever get the chance buy tea with Asians, you might notice something:
They don’t choose the tea for health benefits. They don’t buy green or red
tea because a book at the local health food store claimed one had 5% more
antioxidants than the other. They drink the tea for health benefits, they
choose which specific tea for their enjoyment—one of the healthiest things
about Asian culture.
Having said that, there is some common knowledge in Asia about which
type of tea may be more appropriate for different occasions.
Think of the sun’s course from morning to dusk, east to west. Now, imagine
that the morning color is green and slowly phases through a golden yellow to
light brown that turns to a darker, reddish-violet brown at the sunset. That’s
about the general color of tea you’ll want, depending on the time of day.
Different colors match different times for different people, but it still phases
from green to golden to brown to violet.
I take the “coffee time” rule to help with this. Most people know when they
must stop drinking coffee so that they can get a good night’s rest. Some
people don’t drink coffee at all, some can drink it after dinner. Many people
stop drinking coffee sometime around early afternoon.
Whenever your “no more coffee” time is, that’s when you should be well into
the brown shades of tea. As a general rule, green-colored teas tend to have
the most caffeine. Green tea can be baked (or ‘roasted’) different amounts of
time. Golden-colored tea is usually green tea that is mildly baked, giving it
the yellowish-golden color. If it’s baked dark, it will taste almost smoky. Like
different roasts of coffee beans, the longer you bake it, the less caffeine it
has.
Taiwanese “red” tea has a complicated story behind its name. Asian culture
often (not always) considers “black” as a way to label something as “bad”.
“Secret negotiations” between Taiwan and China, for instance, were often
referred to as “the black box”. This was a large point of contention when the
“Sunflower” students took over Taiwan’s legislature in early 2014. Few
Taiwanese would ever want to refer to something they drink as “black”.
They’re just too holistically health-conscious. So, all “black” tea is politely
referred to as “red”.
But the story behind the name doesn’t stop there. While most people will
refer to Taiwanese “red” tea as “black tea” in English, it really is a different
tea altogether. It tastes nothing like the black tea varieties that Frodo and
Bilbo Baggins might like to enjoy with their second breakfast and elevenzees.
It’s nothing even close to English Breakfast or Earl Gray. In reading the tea
leaves, literally, I think of it as “red” tea. But, specifically, “Taiwanese red
tea”. It is a special breed of tea that Taiwanese farmers perfected after the
Communists took over China and Taiwan had to export more good in order
to survive.
Oolong is another breed of tea. There is a “green” oolong leaf and a “black”
oolong leaf. This can be confusing if you forget that tea is baked. “Black
oolong” has a naturally dark/brown color, like other black tea. But “dark
roasted oolong” is a green oolong leaf that is baked dark. The black leaf
oolong can also be baked dark, but that’s another topic.
When you see “green oolong” or “black oolong”, this does not refer to the
color of the tea you drink or how dark it was baked; it refers to the variety of
the oolong leaf species. Most of our oolong is green oolong with different
bake levels, unless it specifically says “black oolong” on the label.
Like Taiwanese red tea, Asians refer to black oolong as “red oolong” in Asian
languages. But, this is for the same “politeness” as they use when referring to
Taiwanese red tea as “red”. They don’t have a category for what the West
would call “red” tea. They refer to both red and black tea as “red”. In the
Jesse Yonge tea collection, I translated it as “black oolong” because it really
is a different tea and we want to avoid confusion.
I’ll gladly concede that the health benefits of these teas are an important
question. But this is where fad nutrition can cause more problems. While
green teas, including oolong, tend to have higher antioxidants, Taiwanese
red tea can have something else called “theanine”. Some claim that oolong
has fewer antioxidants, but that it has more EGCG… And both EGCG and
theanine basically do the same thing as antioxidants. But I’m not even sure
if these claims are true, and, if they are, I don’t know if their research labs
will change their minds ten years down the road.
This is where I start to tune out health nuts. When I read blogs talking about
which nit-picky variety of tea has more or less of this whatchamadulthalite
or whatever it’s called, I can’t help but think back to the research that
claimed eggs were bad for us. On the one hand, green plants typically have a
lot to offer us. Then again, the people who live near Sun Moon Lake—one of
the biggest hot spots for growing Taiwanese red tea—tend to look really
young and healthy.
At the end of the day, scientists can’t tell us which food is best. They can only
discover specific reasons why God knew what He was doing. And, like any
continuing science, research will always have something new to report every
day. I read that stuff more for entertainment than to guide my health.
Having said that, when I think about the health benefits of different teas, I
tend to think of that same spectrum that I described with the sun path, from
green to gold to brown to violet-red. I look at the green as being closes to my
heart and it slowly expands out toward my skin. Lightly baked oolong tastes
almost like spinach, and its nutrition—whether the scientists have
discovered it all or not—helps the inside of the body to stay healthy. Red tea,
however, may help our bodies to age more slowly, can give us a boost
without the caffeine crash associated with coffee, and has even been known
to make our bodies get a little warmer.
Pu-erh is a different species altogether. It arguably belongs in the “herbal”
tea category, at the very end of the violet-red spectrum. Pu-erh has violet
tones. Often times, farmers spray the leaves with water so that they gather a
whitish microbial fermentation. It’s almost completely out of the nutrition
loop, though small leaf Pu-erh is purported to reduce age spots on the skin
and Pu-erh, in general, is understood to have “Qi”, that Asian concept of
“spirit energy” or, literally translated, “wind”. And, spirit energy is largely, as
probably seen by Angels, in, through, and around our bodies. So, I put the
violet-red end of the spectrum on the outmost part of the body, concerning
health.
So, whether you’re into that sort of thing, the visual aid may generally hold
true: Green colors are closer to the inside of the body, red and Pu-erh may be
more to the outside, everything else in between, respectively. But, that’s just
a general memory device. It’s not exactly medical or scientific.
With all this in mind, remember that tea is tea. “Herbal tea” isn’t really tea,
it’s a beverage of “steeped herbs”, made much the same way as a tea drink,
but that doesn’t make it “tea” in the literal sense. “Tea” is a family of plants.
So, when considering “herbal teas”, they may have more of a flavorful or
possibly medicinal use. That’s where those herbal medicine books may have
more relevance.
Actual tea is more for daily, regular consumption, not so much targeted to
serve some specific health purpose. It should be considered for its health
benefits in the overall sense. The word on the street is that green teas have
fat burning properties, help people keep going for a long time, and contain
more antioxidants, gram per gram, than even pomegranate.
But, I don’t rely on any one source for that information. And I won’t
cheapen your own need for research by pretending to write the last healthy
guide book you’ll ever need. I suggest that you take initiative and keep up to
date on the daily research trends on your own, however much it may interest
you. Just make sure that you enjoy your research, as well as whatever tea you
may drink while you’re doing it.
Which tea should you drink? For myself, I ask my body, which tends to know
better than any reference guide. As I listen, I bear in mind the color
spectrum I keep describing, from morning to dusk and from inside to out.
To me, that color spectrum doesn’t dictate which tea I should drink, it just
helps me understand a little more about why my body may be in the mood
for one tone of tea at some particular part of the day.
If you ever have any trouble knowing which tea you might want to enjoy, just
look at our labels. Each type of tea has a different color on the label, which
we hope has some correlation to the color of the tea. We did that because…
well, we did that for your enjoyment… after you wash, of course.
The Jesse Yonge Collection
Taiwan’s tea industry grew substantially during the embargo against
Communist China in the decades that followed the revolution. The KMTNationalists fled to Taiwan in 1949, where that government remains in
power to this day.
Originally, Taiwan farmers focused on what species of tea were available at
the time. Since the embargo lifted, Taiwan focused on oolong tea and their
own unique variety known as Taiwanese “red” tea, also translated as “black”
tea. Pu-erh comes from a south-central region in China, sometimes from
trees that are over a thousand years old. While Taiwan can grow many
varieties of tea, as well as coffee, Pu-erh tea seems to be limited to being
grown in the Yunnan region in China.
During the 1960’s, a special breed of oolong, White Tip Oolong, was given to
Queen Elizabeth II. She loved it so much that she named it “Oriental
Beauty”. This is one of Taiwan’s more treasured teas.
Tea is harvested throughout the year. By many standards, Taiwan has only
two seasons: summer and a two-month winter. Some of Taiwan’s best tea is
harvested in February, a cold and rainy season. Depending on whom you
ask, this may be called winter or early spring tea. “Spring” tea is usually
regarded as “premium”. But, in the Jesse Yonge collection, spring is just
spring.
It’s best not to get caught up too much in the technical details of harvest
times. Elevation and farming techniques are a more significant factor than
whether a tea was harvested in early or late March. Every farm sits at a
different elevation. Many tea fields are built into layered mountain sides and
can often be taller than they are wide, spanning 100 or 200 meters in
elevation. Each farm is different. Each row is different. Each plant is
different. Each day of every year is different.
If you fancy, follow blogs and books from tea adventurists. Note that each
blog will have a different story, while some stories are similar. The most
important thing to take away from the “seasons” talk about tea is that
seasons are a genuine factor in quality.
If you look at a price list and you see that “February” tea is significantly more
expensive than tea harvested in September, then the taste of the “February”
tea will probably be that much better. No one is trying to trick you. The
prices usually don’t lie. But this also means that cheaper tea on the Internet
may not taste as good, regardless of how a website markets it. Watch for the
month the tea was picked.
Generally, the tea wakes up just after the New Year and slowly goes to sleep
by Christmas. “Winter” or “early spring” tea may be more fresh while mid
spring may be strongest. Summer is a good, reliable, ordinary season. But,
again, these vary from tea to tea, farm to farm, and year to year.
Tea prices are usually influenced by professionals who make their living at
testing and rating tea. Taiwan has tea competitions throughout the year,
corresponding to some of their more important harvest times. These
competitions also are a factor in tea prices. Generally, higher priced tea is
better for good reason. But it’s most important for you to test the tea
yourself and buy what you like. As grandma often said, “A vase is less than
$20, while a vase [voz] is more expensive.” That being said, drink to your
health and to your liking.
With this in mind, the Jesse Yonge collection leans toward summer teas and
earlier. We don’t offer cheaper teas that are usually sold with a $3.00 meal of
average rice and noodles. We want our customers to know that, whatever
they buy from us, they are getting something special. Generic tea can be
great as well, but you’ll have to go somewhere else—and for that, there are
many “somewhere else’s” to go if generic is what you want. We say: Drink
different.
In our choices, healthy farming is a top priority. I’ve tasted many brews of
tea that were delicious. “Do you use chemicals [pesticides]?” is the proper
question in Mandarin.
Some farmers lie and say, “No,” because they have a health certificate that
shows no trace of chemicals. In Asia’s indirect culture, this isn’t exactly
considered dishonest. “Tea fraud” in Asia more relates to growing a mix of
low-end tea, making it taste like Pu-erh, then claiming that it came from
Yunnan and charging through the nose. That would be “dishonest” in Asian
culture. “Do you use chemicals?” and “Does it show traces of chemicals?” are
nearly the same question to the older generations.
So, we have to know when a farmer is “politely lying” to us. As good as their
tea is, as kind as these farmers are, and as much as the bugs on their
mountains want to eat this delicious tea before we can drink it, Jesse Yonge
just can’t accept chemically treated tea if we can possibly avoid it. Knowing
how to detect “polite lies” is a key factor in our efforts to have a collection of
healthy tea.
“Organic” certification isn’t all that it’s cracked up to be. Asians can lie and
falsify information on certifications right and left. We prefer to go to the
farms, talk to the owners, and see their natural pest control methods first
hand. We can’t walk every row of every farm, but we’re good at knowing who
to trust.
In addition to the problem of certification (that certificates can be faked or
cheated and are therefore a false sense of security) there’s another problem
with “Organic” certification—it takes a ridiculously long time!
One farm we have a relationship with uses the same proven and healthy
methods on all their tea. But, some fields are certified “Organic” while others
are not, merely because of the bureaucracy’s paperwork. All their tea is lab
tested. All their tea is grown with organic pest control, not chemicals. But,
“Organic” certification is part of an institutionalized “Establishment” and
therefore doesn’t tell the full story.
I remember first learning about “Organic” and “Fair Trade” certifications
from a friend, now serving in Africa. We talked about these things years ago
when she said, “Jesse, the problem now is that, with ‘Fair Trade’ being a
recognized certification, some companies are bribing their way into getting
the certification, which defeats the purpose.” This goes back to another issue
that I address in my other books about the problem of any system of
institutionalizing our systems, just because we want a “security blanket” to
hold on to.
Another problem to watch out for is that Asian tea farmers tend to say that
they don’t use pesticides when, actually, they do use pesticides, but
government lab tests show either no chemical traces or that the tea is
supposedly safe enough to drink. “Natural” or “no pesticides” or “certified”
means absolutely nothing when purchasing Asian tea. It doesn’t matter how
beautiful or “natural-looking” the packaging is. Art is another thing Asians
are incredibly good at.
So, what can we do to make sure that our food is healthy? To tell you the ugly
truth, we can’t. Nothing is for certain. Anyone who says otherwise is either
partially informed or selling something other than what they claim. As my
band instructor always, “The best we can do is the best we can do, and we
keep doing it until we can’t do it anymore.”
The best way to know that food is grown organically is not with an “Organic”
certification, but with an “organic” friendship. We know what pesticides
look like. We know which plants are healthy because bugs want to beat us to
the punch. (That’s a secret of the traditional market: Get the head of lettuce
with the most bugs because that’s the healthy one. Go home, wash the bugs
off, and enjoy their leftovers.)
That’s not to say that leaves are half eaten by bugs. Farmers will usually put
honey or sugar-based “fly traps” throughout their fields to keep the bugs off
the tea or coffee. If the fly traps are full of bugs, then the tea in the fields
must be attracting some pretty interested “consumers”.
As I often need to explain to farmers, the issue with the chemicals isn’t about
chemicals in the tea so much as, even without chemical traces, that
pesticides alter the health properties of the tea. We turn away a lot of
“certified chemical free” tea just because of use of pesticides that leave no
trace. Those are our standards. And we do our best to keep them.
The health question is a complex problem for Pu-erh. There are countless
farms in the Yunnan region of China. No one can verify with any certainty
what Pu-erh tea comes from which farm. Even a “certificate of origin” could
easily be fake, especially with the Chinese involved. At the same time, the
Chinese love their Pu-erh tea. So, while certificates and written promises are
viewed much the same as a how a psychopath views the “silly game of
ethics”, trust comes from the fact that Chinese love Pu-erh.
The best way to know that Pu-erh is real is to know what good Pu-erh tastes
like. Even if it is genuine, a more important question is always about
whether or not your body wants it. Always ask your body! If you can get an
answer, it will give a simple “yes” or “no” based on questions we don’t even
yet know to ask. One day may be a Pu-erh day, the next may be for red tea,
the next for oolong, etc.
Another good way to know about Pu-erh is to work with local trade
companies who have a history with importing Pu-erh. Though, they’ll
probably never tell you where they buy it from to protect their trade. Even if
you could find a Pu-erh farmer, unless you were his best, best, best buddy,
he probably won’t show you the entire process used on his farm. You can
pay a lot of money, tour the farm, they will welcome you and give you a long
tour, but still never show you their good and bad secrets, and you’d never
know it. Again, the Chinese are very protective of their trade secrets.
A farmer who claims to grow Pu-erh and shows you every step of their
process is either leaving something out, no matter how honest he seems
(Asians are very good at lying,) or he is probably just making it all up. If he
does tell you all his trade secrets, his neighbors will start to complain about
him and the passive-aggressive Asian hostile takeover sequence will begin.
He’ll be out of business within two years.
As for “Organic” certified Pu-erh, fat chance. I’d be suspicious right away of
anything that seems too good to be true. Chinese don’t care about our
Western “certifications”. If I ever found one, I would think it’s almost
certainly a lie. Asians focus more on organic friendships, reputation, and
trust. Sorry, no false security blankets available from Jesse Yonge.
If you really only want true “Organic” certified tea, never drink Pu-erh,
especially if it claims to be certified. As for me, I drink Pu-erh more than any
other tea and my health has only gotten better. Pu-erh is for those who truly
grasp the essence of Asian culture. Enjoy at your own risk and drink to your
health.
As you stumble around and learn about the different tea growing and
harvesting methods, different seasons and altitudes, certain “celebrity”
locations will show a pattern. One of the favored oolong regions is Mt. Ali in
Taiwan. Many call it “Ali Mountain” because of literal Chinese-to-English
translating. I call mountains by their proper titles when using English. You
might not see anyone else refer to it as “Mt. Ali”, just sayin’.
The truth about Mt. Ali, however, is that it is more of a small region than an
actual mountain. There is the actual peak of Mt. Ali, then there is the Mt. Ali
national park surrounding it. There are many tea farms in the vicinity with
the same altitude and climate conditions within the Mt. Ali area that put the
Chinese version of “Ali Mountain” on their tea boxes. Frankly, it doesn’t
really matter.
Mt. Ali is famous, not because the bugs or clouds are different, but because
of history. Another famous location is Sun Moon Lake, famous for growing
Taiwanese red tea. And, actually, because these celebrity locations are so
famous, farmers may be more likely to use chemical pesticides and “politely
lie” about it. Demand is high for no other reason than the name of the
location. So, farmers can cut corners and still get away with making more
money because of the name on their address.
But if we want quality and health, then “celebrity” regions should take a
back seat. We don’t select our tea to keep up with the Joneses—or the Lees
in Asia’s case. Our tea choices are based on the best tea we can find with the
best chance of it actually being grown in a healthy way.
You may find better oolong tea or Taiwanese red tea grown by organic
standards in some less famous region at a more preferable elevation and,
possibly, at a lower price… Though, we’ll always try to find the higher price
for you whenever possible. We would never want to cheapen your
enjoyment. Nor do we want to attract penny pinching farmers who are more
likely to cut corners by pinching pennies ourselves.
As I’ve said, we can’t walk every row of tea. Even if we walk every row of
every farm, we can’t follow every tea picker every minute of every day. If we
installed cameras, then all the electric wires would cause energy fields that
would damage the tea in a different way. Domination is not the answer to
everything.
We don’t follow the fads of celebrity growing locations or celebrity
certifications, though “Organic” certification is probably a good idea for
many American products. But at some point, we have to lay down our desire
for a false sense of comfort and learn how to know how to trust our instincts
and experiences as they tell us whether we can trust a farmer. We do our best
to know if a farm will do their best to give you their best.
We aren’t tea farmers. If we were tea farmers, then we would have to choose
between offering only one, two, or three kinds of tea. Otherwise, we would
become this big, huge, oversized supergiant international conglomerate…
and bureaucracies are even more difficult to keep track of than tea pickers.
The last thing you want us to do is hire an MBA to “make sure” that your tea
healthy (all in good humor.)
No, we don’t pretend to be anything that we’re not. We can’t attend every
tea competition. We aren’t tea experts or tasting professionals. We are tea
“collectors”.
That’s why our tea is called the Jesse Yonge “collection”. We love health. We
love life in our years every bit as much as we love years in our lives. We love
tasting. We love visiting. We love learning. And we love sharing.
As for the name, “Jesse Yonge”… Where did it come from? “Yonge” is the
English translation of my Chinese family name. It brings many interesting
coincidences in my life, which I’ll get into at the end of the book.
You may want to know the truth about another myth: Chinese does not have
multiple “dialects”. Mandarin is Chinese and vice versa. Every other
language of China and Chinese culture is its own distinct language.
“Chinese-Mandarin” is redundant, not clarifying, unless one is referring to
that difficult-to-understand accent use by Beijing folk, but that’s another
story altogether.
Most of those languages use by Chinese people use the same characters, but
with very different pronunciation. So, written Mandarin is a sort of franca
lingua of China, and even has about a 20% carryover with Japanese.
We put the Chinese characters for the original name of our tea on all of our
labels so there is no confusion. Our Japanese teas use Japanese characters,
of course, which, being as old as tea, are usually the same as the Chinese
characters. Labels for coffee grown in Asia have the Chinese characters used
by the farmers.
Putting Chinese characters on our labels isn’t just about marketing and
fashionable artwork, however; it’s about accuracy. Someone from Asia
should be able to look at one of our labels and know exactly what’s in the
bag.
That being said, it’s just seems wrong to prepare tea from a bag not labeled
in the original language where the tea was grown. Another guarantee of
accuracy is that the original tea farmer can drink the tea and confirm first
hand that what’s written on the bag is also inside the bag.
So, whatever happened to Hank’s Pu-erh? His uncle was best friends with a
farmer in Yunnan, where Pu-erh is grown. But he was in an automobile
accident and suffered from amnesia and couldn’t even remember the farm.
As of the close of 2014, Hank’s Pu-erh was on hold, but I started to write this
book anyway.
With the way doors open and close, I knew it probably wouldn’t take too
long before Hank and his family’s reputation of “good luck” would walk
through the door that was first opened. I wrote this book, gave it to Noah for
a look over, and went on to other projects.
In early 2015, I was visiting Hank’s house and happened to see his uncle. He
looked wiser, acted more youthful, and had regained his memory and his
contact with the Pu-erh tea farm in Yunnan. We just never know. That’s my
life’s story.
Earlier, I said I would explain more of the history of my Mandarin family
name, Yonge. The name came from one of my students. I had been in Asia
for a year and needed an official Mandarin name. So, I prayed and asked the
Lord what name to choose. “Henry’s name,” He said.
Henry was one of Hank’s classmates. The name just so happens to translate
to “Yonge”, or also “Yeung”, “Young”, and “Yang”, depending on the
translation or Romanization method. The name “Yonge” has come up many
other times in many other adventures, but I’ll have to save that for another
book.
I am Jesse Yonge, as they know me in Asia, anyhow. But you can just think of
me as the tea and coffee collector.
So, don’t take it from an expert. Don’t take it from a farmer. Don’t take it
from a competition judge. Don’t take it from a dietitian. Instead, just take it
from a collector… If you ever wonder how to drink Asian kung fu tea, follow
these simple instructions: Wash, enjoy.
JesseYonge.com
###
About the Author
Jesse Steele was born and raised in west-central Michigan. After graduating from
Reed City High School, he earned a Bachelor of Science in Biblical Studies from the
Moody Bible Institute.
He favors informative and provocative authors like C. S. Lewis, Robert Kiyosaki, and
Malcolm Gladwell. He enjoys golf, fishing, swimming, aggressive skating, free
running, Kung Fu, reading, writing, music, art, language, Bible study, traveling, and
occasionally attending conferences.
He enjoys time with friends over coffee and often banters about trends in music
composition, business, politics, culture, web programming, online gaming, art, and
the Church.
He blogs at JesseSteele.com, occasionally teaches writing and piano, and owns
various brands.
Poetry is code.™
Email: [email protected]
Facebook | Twitter | Smashwords | JesseSteele.com
Other Books by Jesse Steele
Crossroads At the Day of Bapticost (Act I)
Crossroads at the Way and Churchianity (Act II)
95 Theses of the Clerical System
The People's Party: A Blueprint for American Political Revival
Memoirs of Ophannin
Clergy Don’t Shepherd: God 101
Game On: A Christian Strategy Guide for Noobs
The Four Planes
Monkeys in the Jungle: Why Some Trees Just Won't Grow
21
The End: A Bible Translation of John’s Revelation