Old and nutritive like the decomposing forest floor, the dark 1998 Liu Bao makes its triumphant return (back in stock). This aged tea, or heicha, has been a customer favorite for a couple years now. Here are some excerpts that I wrote in January 2024 for the tea-letter of the Seasonal Tea Journey.
Liu Bao
So smooth, Liu Bao envelops you in a blanket of forest loam—a scent of dry leaves in the dry leaves—to go with my dry humor. It is a divine smell though. The blanket of forest loam must have threads of pixie dust woven in. In fact, as proof of this, the last two times I drank this tea I ended up erupting in laughter at one point or another. It is a heart medicine, repairing frailties of courage and strengthening bonds by inducing heart healing laughter when enjoyed with friends.
For the energy note I went with “iron cauldron,” the place you make that heart medicine. It fills your entire body with the structural solidity of the cauldron, and it provides that space inside as well—offering both its stable form and its function of transformation.
The body of the tea is luscious, smooth, and endless. This is a tea where the 7th steep might be your favorite. Earthy, nutty, and generous with its sweetness, I don’t know where it ends. With each steep it seems that the horizon keeps moving further away. It is satisfying like a steak (if you are a meat eater), or perhaps like a skewer of grilled mushrooms. A little bit of pepper, and even something cool like menthol lingering on the tongue.
Contemplative Pairing
I find that letting go into the soothing quality of this Liu Bao can be a healing or integrating way to approach this tea from a contemplative perspective. Many use composting as a metaphor for the power of decay, and the nutrients it provides for renewal. This tea is literally going through a kind of decomposition over time, with active enzymes, changing and shifting into the delicacy it is now. Not just food for another plant, but food for an animal, you and me.
Aged in Guangxi
Harvested in 1998, this tea will be reminiscent of Shou Puerh for many—however this is actually a traditional Sheng Liu Bao. It doesn't involve "wet piling," but rather undergoes multiple stages of roasting, rolling, and short periods of storing before it’s finally put away for long-term storage. This traditional method brings out layered aromatics, a refined bitterness and long sweetness, and makes for excellent aging.
Puerh, as some of you may be surprised to learn, is the name of a city in Yunnan, and only teas from that region take that name. Liu Bao is a traditional tea of Guangxi Province. Aged teas like this one are called heicha, or dark tea. Clearly dark in the pour, the origin of this classification is self-evident.
When you brew it, you might like to start with a rinse. The tea is 25 years old afterall. The first couple of steeps will have a little bit of classy aged funk, like a fine cheese, or maybe a sophisticated french gym bag.
The Six Forts of Liu Bao
Liu Bao means Six Forts. We don’t know which forts or exactly where they were. For me the six ways that Liu Bao fortifies me are as a medicine, a place to stay, a coat for a cold day, a source of laughter, and an alchemical cauldron. What else could a wanderer want?
