Sheng Tasting Revival / 2025 Matai Single Tree Maocha
Some posts published here deliver stories that were written long time before their date of appearance on this blog. This one is rare, one of a kind. When I first started writing this blog in 2011, my life was in a fast pace of change. I just returned from Spain after two years of master studies and soon after I decided to relocate again to a different country to continue with my PhD. Tea had been an everyday companion for many years already but this new place, new encounters and new influences quickly opened the door for something new: Sheng puerh.
It was love at first sip and very soon Sheng puerh replaced most of the Shu puerh, Dancong and Baicha I was giving preference to before the legendary year of 2011. Let's be honest in admitting that most of my doctoral studies - if not being out in the fieldwork - consisted of me trying hard (and not always succeeding) to study or write, which often ended up in long gongfucha sessions, tea browsing and getting new ideas what else to try with the aim of potential blog review. Much research was done this way (!) and many samples were tested, much knowledge gained (including high tuition fee spent for bad or badly stored tea), and many long sessions of contemplating my next fieldwork moves. The tea was always there, like a knowledgable guru whispering to my ear.
Although as a doctoral student I spent much time alone, lost in books (and internet browsing teashops), when in need of a critical dispute over many important topics related to my high hopes and disappointments in academic career, or of a deep talk with a kindred spirit, I frequently visited a cozy tearoom named Literárna čajovňa in the centre of the city. Me and my dear colleague and friend in tea, Jons, often joined me to discuss the most important questions about life and together we shared profound philosophical insights over a cup of tea, one of those offered on the tearoom's menu at that time.
Sheng puerh was quickly reaching popularity but it took a few more years for the tearoom owners to challenge my tiny & student budget yet still very unique home storage (check my posts from 2012 onwards). As the time went by and our stories continued to be written by life, so was theirs. Fourteen years after, their production is blossoming with every new spring harvest.
One of our favourite picks this year is Matai gushu maocha in Danzhu (Single Tree 单株) version. Matai is a small Lincang village and according to the information from the tearoom's shop, it was processed by a farmer Li Ping Liang who dates the tree to have at least 100 year based on their family history. As for the tea clutivar, it is Mengku Daye (big leaf 大叶) varietal and this year's production was around 3800 grams.
Danzhu can offer a unique taste of a one specific single estate area. Without being blended, the taste can be sometimes less complex yet on the other hand it offers a great learning experience. Me and Jons have both tried Matai gushu spring maocha from 2024 and we enjoyed it very much as documented here on the picutre from last winter.
We were both curious about this year's spring Single Tree harvest and decided to do a parallel tasting note post on this particular tea.
The idea was born with the desire to give this blog a new life and to honour its tradition as well as our friendship that began at that legendary year of 2011 when we met for the first time as colleagues at our academic institute. Our lives changed dramatically ever since and some of our high hopes and disappointments are luckily long gone, yet the love for tea stays and brings continuous everyday pleasure into our lives.
Today we offer our personal tasting notes that we wrote independently on our own with the aim of sharing love for gongfucha and appreciating fresh gushu maocha that proves to be great the second time around.
JONS 〜
The dry leaves tell their own story before you even think about brewing. Take a moment to breathe them in and you're greeted by this beautiful fusion of dried orchard fruits - think winter apples and pears left to concentrate their essence - wrapped up with herbal whispers and that gentle honeyed sweetness that hints at liquid amber. It's an invitation which simply can't be refused.
And layered over all those bright flavours comes this fleeting astringency, barely perceptible really, not intrusive, like that moment when morning fog lifts from mountain peaks. It's there, then it's gone, making space for something far more interesting.
The second infusion takes you somewhere entirely different. Gone is that bright, fruity liveliness. Instead, you're drawn into earthier territory. The fruit notes retreat, making way for something more grounded, more substantial. It's the tea settling into itself, revealing its deeper character.
The third and fourth infusions? This is where the magic truly happens. What follows is pure complexity. Mineral notes come forward - think fresh mountain air, that clean taste you get after rain on stone. But here's where it gets exciting: threading through all of that earthiness is this gorgeous floral sweetness, subtle but insistent. There's a vegetal freshness too, bright and alive, punctuated by these gentle nutty whispers that seem to come from nowhere and everywhere at once.
The astringency - and there is astringency, don't mistake me - never overpowers. It's confident without being bullying, present without demanding all your attention. Meanwhile, those floral notes just keep building, layer upon layer, creating this full, almost chewy mouthfeel that makes you want to pause, really pause, and pay attention.
And then - this is the bit that gets me every time - comes the huigan. That sweet return, that gentle echo that creeps back long after you've swallowed. It's like the tea's way of saying "wait, there's more," a little gift that keeps giving, reminding you why patience in tea is everything.
I giggle with joy looking at the perfect pot as my eyes zoom in a recently purchased set of electric fired cha hai and 60 ml gaiwan made by Václav Dušek. Pure and light, they offer excellent and very sincere tool. Moreover, they offer much appreciated aesthetic value to my gongfucha experience, nourishing all the senses.
The first brew is light yellow-green, the colour is not intense and I wonder about the steeping time. Only after trying the first sip I feel reassured that the time does not matter here. There is noticeable complexity even in light infusion and I can feel almost immediate salivation that keeps my mouth pleasantly active. The tastes lingers on the tongue, making me wish another cup.
In the second and later brews the colour turns darker and more intense, yet the yellow-green tone still reveals the youth of this maocha. More grassy and vegetal fragrance comes out of the gaiwan lid with some pleasantly floral aroma, not as strong as I am used to with other Lincang tea though. This tea is different. The sweetness reminds me of some Jingmai production, it is not too loud yet it is very present and never disappears. Also bitterness is present and gets more noticeable in later brews. It quickly transforms and is never overpowering though. The way this maocha is processed reminds me of some of the latest Farmerleaf production, it is rather on the green side and the tea is very active in the mouth. The pleasant mouthfeel and almost immediate huigan is very persuasive.
Despite bitterness that adds to a changeable dynamics in taste, I find the astringency to be very low, almost missing in the first few brews. There is some but the dryness gets more up to the front in much later brews. It also leaves almost as fast as it comes and it opens way for much sweeter finish. The sweet and juicy mouthfeel of the last few cups feels never ending and the tea keeps delivering, making me want another "last" cup.
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