The rinsed leaves smell mossy, thickly sweet, and almost tacky just in the aroma. The rinse-soup itself is somewhat darker than I’d expect for such a young tea. The first cup is quite pleasing, there is real and robust density, with soft caramel and forest-y flavors throughout. The second infusion sharpens, yielding the kind of precision sweetness which radiates from the back-center of the tongue that I crave is a young sheng puer. The thickness continues into cup three, but with newly emerging wildflower undertones and a lingering, musky huigan (that’s the back of palette sweet aftertaste). Sitting, I can feel a gentle waterfall of calming cha qi at the crown of my head, seeping slowly down into my core and limbs. There is an almost stoney feeling palpable in my body which wakes me up and makes me want to smile for no reason at all.
In the fourth infusion the flavors seem to collapse and meld, swirling in a soup that is silky-soft and swimming with rich wildflower sweetness. I take a break to have a few cashews and reheat the kettle. Not even I am immune to the adverse affects of a young sheng on an empty stomach…
I find the fifth infusion to be gentle and sweet, with the floral flavors becoming ever more pronounced. There is a bit of bitterness, of course, but it is not at all this tea’s most notable element. Rather, the later steepings seem all about the sweet creamy and floral elements which one would expect from a tea in the Bing Dao area.
In the end, what else can I say? This tea is pure and clean, complex enough to hold my attention but not overly so. I don’t think there’s anything extraordinary and its price prevents me from considering it a value tea, but I like it, and nothing speaks against it. For a lover of clean wild-arbor tea like myself, Na Han has it where it counts.
Two posts in a month! I’m doing better… Until next time,