Korean Powdered Tea Vs. Japanese Matcha

One has been told the following about Korean "matcha" by no other than Korean tea masters...

"The Japanese have been making traditional matcha for hundreds of years, they have perfected it, and it tastes the best. If I want matcha I buy only Japanese matcha.
We Koreans have been making traditional green tea for hundreds of years, we have perfected it, and it tastes the best. If I want green tea I buy only Korean green tea."

I have also heard the following:

"If a Korean teamaster is drinking Korean matcha, he is not a Korean tea master."

"If a Korean teamaster believes Korean matcha is better than Japanese matcha, his taste in tea is questionable."

Interestingly, one recalls a story by a fellow tea friend. It involves the teamaster of Woomong Tea. He asked the friend which matcha he preferred, Japanese or Korean. He head of Woomong Tea seemed surprised when he said Japanese. This story shows how some Koreans, simply only drink, and are quite passionate, about Korean tea.

It should be noted that Korean matcha (Korean powdered tea) has some notable differences than Japanese matcha. Japanese matcha is shade grown for a few weeks to months before it is picked. Korean powdered tea is usually shade grown on purpose but rather is naturally shaded such by mountains, bamboo, or ocean fog. If it is deliberately shade grown it is usually done for just a few days or weeks. The other big difference between Japanese matcha and Korean powdered tea is that Japanese matcha is usually fertilized with nitrogen to increase the depth of colour and flavour. Conversely, Korean powdered tea is usually organic.

In the end both of these factors impact the taste of the matcha. Longer shade means a sweeter taste and more caffine as the sun is unable to convert theanine to bitter tannins.  More amino acids and chlorophyll is produced in the shade lending itself to a deeper green colour. Nitrogen fertilizer means faster leaf growth resulting in less sunlight as well. As a result Korean matcha tends to be noticeably more bitter and less rich, smooth, and sweet compared to Japanese matcha. The qi of Korean powdered tea is also very light compared to that of Japanese matcha.

It should also be noted that often Korean powered tea is referred to as "powdered tea" as opposed to "matcha" (Kor: malcha). Many believe that if the tea is not shade grown and properly processed in a manner that removes the leaves stems and veins (heavier parts) then it is not matcha. This is because all true matcha is shade grown and its leaf stems and veins are removed. Most Korean "matcha" is not shade grown nor is it produced in a way that removes the heavier parts of the ground leaf, so is instead referred to as "powdered tea".

A review of three Korean powered teas will follow next post.

Until then...

Peace

The Tradition of Autumnal/ Winter Green Teas

When the coloured leaves start to fall and the days get noticeably shorter, tea drinkers all to often find themselves reaching for a more dark, full bodied, warm natured tea. In couteries where green tea rules the hillsides and pallets all year round, the seasonal change in tea drinking is more subtle.

These days often we associate green tea with the Spring being that green tea shares energetic similarities with the season and has even come to represent the change of season. The first flushes, the first picks, the pre qing-mings, the ujeons, and the shinchas remind us that spring is finally here. In Japan the first picks of the year, the shinchas, still represent spring but it is often said that green tea is best in the Fall and that Fall is the season for green tea. Japan has a few Autumnal tea traditions that remind the Japanese about the relationship between green tea and Autumn.

Traditionally, the matcha season starts in the fall. Until this time matcha from the previous season was consumed. Although the full leaf precursor to matcha, tencha, is picked and processed in the early spring, it has spent the summer sealed in a container with the teamasters mark on it and buried underground. In the fall the container is retrieved, the seal broken, and the tencha is ground with a stone grinder into this seasons matcha. The ceremony is called Kuchikiri, or opening the mouth. This ceremony is often held in conjunction with the symbolic change in Japanese tea rooms from the smaller furo hearth of the summer season to the larger and warmer ro. This ceremony is called Robiraki and marks a new season of tea in Japan.

Tencha, the precursor to matcha, is not the only Japanese tea that undergoes this tradition of burying during the summer. Some shincha also goes through this procedure. They are called aki shincha (new fall shincha), kuchikiri shincha (opening the mouth shincha), or kuradashi shincha (shincha from the vault). These teas are buried only part way processed and undergo a final drying procedure to bring out their nature after they are unburied in the Fall.

A long time ago, before the age of nitro flushing, vacuum sealing, or foil packs this was the only way to protect the quality of tea leaves through the warm humid Summer which tended to quickly degrade the tea. So nowadays with all the latest packing technology why do they continue to make these autumnal teas in Japan?

Many tea masters claim that Fall tea simply tastes the best. They claim that it has more depth to its flavour and is more round in the mouth. The mellowing through the summer definitely gives these teas more depth as well as curb the excess of sweeter, lighter, qualities. Energetically these teas also change. They loose the strong rising and falling directional nature and become softer and slower in their movement throughout the body. This is the result of the slow changes they absorbed while buried underground. They become slightly warmer in thermal nature due to the heat they have generated throughout the summer and due to the final heat drying stage that occurs after they are unburied. For these reasons autumnal shincha and even matcha is much nicer on the stomach and is much more suitable for consumption during the Fall and Winter seasons.

In Korea, although they don't have a formal ceremony, they do drink green tea differently in the fall. In the South they sometimes roast their green tea in the Fall before consumption to give it more fire and warmth thereby harmonizing it with the seasonal change. Last year one drank a Korean tea that was picked in the spring and was left to ferment throughout the Summer before being finished with a traditional firing over an iron caldron in the Fall before being packaged. These interesting teas are quite rare in Korea.

This year one has been enjoying a seasonal shincha kindly gifted from Chado Tea House. This Autumnal/Winter shincha is apty named Hikozo (secret, jar, warehouse), secretly stored tea. It was first picked early in the Spring then stored in an abandon train tunnel that is used for wine and tea storage until being finished with a final drying in the fall. It is warmer in nature with a deep, rich, woody, meaty taste compared to the cooler, greener, lighter, fresher notes and feeling of spring shincha. It feels about as right as green tea can feel on this cold wintery day.

Peace

Edit:

One wanted to also mention the role 'earth' plays in the energetic change that takes place with autumnal green teas but forgot to add this idea to the main body of the post.

It is important to note that autumnal/winter green tea is traditionally stored in earthenware pots when it is buried or stored. These pots contain the energies of Earth and Fire within them. Long storage in these containers imparts the energy of the storage vessel- the energy of Earth and Fire. Earth energy is stable, harmonious, and, of course, earthy. The energy of fire is warming. This is yet another subtle influence on autumnal green teas. If the tea is buried in the earth or at least stored underground, the Earth energy that surrounds it will also influence its subtle nature.

Double Peace

2010 Oohashiri Shizuoka Shincha

Japan's shincha crop this year has been riddled with problems stemming from frost and the coldest March ever. This tea was shipped later than expected- pretty much the norm this year.

This tea generously came from Chado Tea House and was the first handpicked five centimetres of tea from this garden in the Shizuoka region. Only 25kg of these young tea leaves came from the 1200 square meter tea plantation.

Water comes to a boil and then sits a bit while one unwraps the tea and cuts open the bag.

The dry leaf smells sharp and sweet with an underlying mellow freshness. A light scoop of these leaves makes their way into the pot. The cooled water follows.

The first infusion reveals mellow cantaloupe notes in a creamy broth. The lips numb with a feeling in the mouth that covers it. The sweetness is slight and manifests mainly on the breath.

The second infusion has more of that round cantaloupe tone that fills the mouth. Being the second infusion, this one feels a touch fuller in the mouth with a slight chalkiness.

The third infusion is longer than the first few and pushes out much of the same. It's flavour gravitates to more of the typical lime green tea taste than the mellow melon flavours. It is less creamy and mellow too and more chalky. It finishes sweet.

The fourth infusion moves from chalky to sweet then to a slightly acidic citrus flavour. There is also those lime flavours that reach in.

This tea is even taken to fifth and sixth infusions where the tea is mainly just creamy, chalky, and smooth with still some mouthfeel worth exploring. The lack of flavour indicates the end of this session.

While cleaning the leaves from the pot one feels focused and relaxed.

Peace

2009 Asamushi Sencha- Ashikubo Gold Lightly Steamed Traditional Sencha

This tea, another sample from Chado Tea House, is a type that one has never tried before- a Fatsu-Mushi (traditional lightly steamed) Sencha. Apparently, the lightly steamed method of production was the only way Sencha was produced until the longer steamed method was discovered in the 1970s. This sample is from just outside Shizuoka in Ashikubo.

One tares open a small sample pack and spills some of the unbroken dry leaf into the bambo scoop. It smells very fresh, light, lime- there are creamy notes tucked away in the freshness.

These leaves wait in the pot for the water to cool. When it is just right the first infusion is prepared. The taste is light, creamy, and smooth with slight buttery-vanilla notes. Velvet mouthfeel slides over the tongue. A sweet taste emerges in the end. Wonderful mouthfeel.

The second infusion is prepared and again is a mouth-filling experience. The sweet creamy start the takes a turn to slight creamy vegital which fades to slightly bitter rubbery sweetness that stays on the breath as the rubbery notes are shed until the aftertaste is just chalky and sweet.

The third infusion is prepared just as careful as the first. The rubbery notes now intertwine more with a buttery sweetness. The aftertaste is earthy and tastes like wood.

The following infusions mouthfeel is pretty much all that remains. The other creamy-rubber notes are mostly faded away but one sits honestly with a few more pots. Gazing out on the bright sun cast upon the wilting cherry blossoms outside, soon the wind will leave only bright green shoots to ponder.

Peace

2009 Sumibi Meijin (Imperial Silver) Sencha

This tea was one of the samples kindly sent by Chado Tea House. Their web page claims that special care has been taken by the producers of this tea and that this tea has won a gold medal Monde selection in the years 2007 & 2008 (thought those medals were reserved for beer and wine?).

One hasn't partaken in sencha in quite a while...

The foil packet is snipped open, releasing the deep, fruity, fresh scent of the sublime dry leaves into the air. These dry leaves have a depth to them that almost remind one of a very young sheng puerh that one had a while back. Delicious.

From the clipped corner of the foil pack one pours some of these green thanes into a warmed pot. And when the boiling water has cooled enough in the cooling pot the water goes into the teapot- embracing the leaf.

The tea is rich, smooth, full in the mouth, sweet with no vegital grassiness- just a smooth, mellow, almost bridging on roasted taste. These first sips are not at all dry in the mouth but full and fresh.

The second infusion is more of that nice smoothness but more full in the mouth. It starts slightly tart on the lips and in the mouth and finishes sweet, buttery, and deep.

The full mouthfeel has staying power along with a subtle yet deep sweet aftertaste.

This green tea is superbly mellow even in the third infusion. The flavour of this tea dives deep for a sencha a far cry from those light, grassy senchas that we all know quite well.

The qi of this tea is very light and travels without being noticed. It does however have a deep but very subtle affect on the mind. One has been drinking this tea in the early evenings without having any issues falling asleep.

This sencha remains mellow but is noticeably grittier in the fourth infusion. In the fifth, this tea noticeably fades but retains it mellow flavour and feel and due to its depth can be enjoyed a bit longer that lighter sencha.

Thanks for this experience with your tea Fumi and Peter.

Peace

2007 Yame Sencha

It's dark. With the sun completely set on this ridiculously humid day, the deep rumbling cackle of thunder in the distance signals time for tea.

A green tea will do quite well to match the sudden coolness felt in the air. A coolness that is more than welcome as the clothes that cling to ones body bag for relief.

This tea, a sencha from Yame (link here for the deets on Yame), was a gift from a friend who recently traveled to Fukuoka, Japan. One has tangled with this tea before, but now the time seems right to embrace it once more.

When opening the sealed container this tea's spirit fills the room as the dense humidity traps the smell of this tea's light shredded thine leaves. It's odor is a pleasant smell of citrus-sweet green tea, enveloped in the typical vegial/grassy scent found in most of this variety. The fragrant flower arrangement on the table and the smell of an inevitable storm only add to the goings on in ones nose, in ones mind.



The early infusions bring sweet smooth floral peachiness and light pear undertones that play lightly under grainy, grassy sweetness. Capturing this timid flavour is a trick in and of itself as previous sessions revealed in my handwritten notes describe a liver, metallic taste in place of the subtle fruitiness experienced in this instant. An instant that accompanies the rain as it buckles down in heavy sheets, lightening lighting up the room.



The fruity highlights of this tea seems to come and go as fast as the flashes of light outside. They only come out of hiding in the first two sessions before materializing into notes on my paper. The profile of the needle-thin leaves of this sencha weren't meant for a long session.



As the rain goes as quickly as it had came, one sips a sweet, grassy, grainy, bright green liquid. Its slippery mouthfeel leaves a sweetness at the back of the throat and a smile on ones face. As the resulting stillness of a departed storm takes hold, one gives thanks for this moment with tea.

Peace