The art of brewing tea in China is not merely an act; it is a symphony of culture, history, and emotion that has pervaded the nation for millennia. When hot water kisses prepared tea leaves in a bowl, the aroma released is not just of tea polyphenols, but also a fragrance reminiscent of ancient traditions and long-standing heritage. Yet, this ritualistic moment is just the climax of a tale that begins much earlier.
On a particularly hot summer day, with temperatures touching a blazing 40°C, a distinct narrative unfolds in Laimu township, situated in the heart of Southwest China’s Sichuan Province. Tong Xiaodong, the young and enthusiastic mayor, navigates the terrains, inspecting the vast sea of tea bushes. These bushes, having recently undergone the summer harvest, hold the promise of another generous yield come autumn, given the right care.
Laimu’s dedication to tea cultivation is awe-inspiring. With gardens stretching across an impressive 40,000 mu (or 2,666 hectares), this region’s devotion to tea is palpable. The fruits of their labor not only find takers within China but also in far-off places, such as Africa. Through tea, the lives of over 7,000 local farmers have transformed from mere subsistence to affluence.
A singular tea plant provides multiple harvests annually. The spring tea, plucked predominantly before the Qingming Festival in April, is cherished for its delicate flavor and lasting aftertaste. The level of commitment exhibited by the farmers during this harvest is unparalleled. Cultural practices dictate abstention from intoxicants like alcohol and tobacco, ensuring that those plucking the leaves are in their best physical and mental form to select only the most tender leaves. Some old traditions even advocate for pluckers to refrain from intimate relations, believing it adds an extra layer of vitality to the harvested leaves.
Contrastingly, leaves picked during the warmer months of summer and the cool breezes of autumn are usually more abundant and possess a distinct taste – summer teas being bitter and autumn teas having a slightly astringent note. Due to their pronounced flavor, they traditionally took a backseat in the sophisticated world of tea tasting. Serving these over the prized spring tea was often viewed as a lapse in etiquette.
However, the winds of change are blowing.
According to Mayor Tong, the younger generation, growing amidst the urban hustle, has developed a penchant for the bold flavors of summer and autumn teas. The burgeoning “milk tea” trend in cities demands these robust teas as milder ones would be overshadowed by the addition of fruits, milk, or other flavor enhancers. It’s only the summer and autumn harvests that can withstand and complement these mix-ins, ensuring the drink retains its quintessential tea character.
This shift is not just a testament to changing preferences but also an indicator of evolving business opportunities. One plant caters to diverse demands – while spring tea satiates traditionalists, the latter harvests resonate with modern city dwellers. Both ends of the spectrum, united by their love for tea, echo the enduring legacy and evolving charm of China’s tea culture.
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