2025 Tang Fang Liang Zi (Farmerleaf) / A Journey Through Four Steeps: Notes from the Tea Table

A Journey Through Four Steeps: Notes from the Tea Table

"The way of tea is the way of beauty dwelling in simplicity." — Sen no Rikyū

Just before the leaves meet the water, they whisper of forest floor and old wood, yet surprise you with a sweet undertone - like sultanas hidden in a spice drawer. Earthy meets sweet in the most delightful contradiction, promising something rather special in the cup.

Something deeply peaceful, almost meditative, emerges from watching this tea reveal its nature, steep by steep, like chapters in an ancient story written in water and leaf. This particular session became a quiet pilgrimage through flavor, each infusion revealing new secrets, as if the leaves themselves were practicing the art of patient revelation.

# First Steep: The Awakening

"There is something in the nature of tea that leads us into a world of quiet contemplation of life." —  Arthur Gray

The wet leaves exhale their first confession—earthy and grounded, like morning soil kissed by dew, yet lifted by whispered hints of citrus that dance at the edges of perception. The liquor presents itself with a full, embracing aroma that speaks of forest floors and hidden groves.

On the tongue, this tea begins its earthen song. There's a gentle spiciness that unfolds like a soft percussion, accompanied by a bitterness that arrives with purpose but departs with grace—almost too quickly, like a shy guest who leaves before you've properly met them. As these primary notes fade, an alchemy occurs: the flavor transforms, blooming into floral territories, petals unfurling in slow motion across the palate.

The texture creates a beautiful awakening on the tongue—a swift, bright entrance that dissolves just as quickly, leaving behind the faintest tingle, a gentle reminder that something authentic has just passed this way.

# Second Steep: The Flow

"The present moment is filled with joy and happiness. If you are attentive, you will see it." — Thích Nhất Hạnh

Watch how the aroma shifts, like a garden transitioning from earth to bloom. Where once there was forest floor, now there are flowers—the fragrance lifting, becoming more ethereal, more perfumed. It's as if the leaves have decided to show us their more delicate side.

When it comes to flavor, the bitterness arrives with more confidence now, more pronounced than its first shy appearance, yet still maintaining that same ephemeral quality—appearing boldly, then dissolving, but this time leaving behind a lingering finish that holds court on the palate long after the swallow.

There's a beautiful astringency that develops, a gentle puckering that creates what the wine world might call "structure" but what we tea drinkers know as character. This slight dryness underlines the forest essence of this brew, reminding us of its wild, untamed origins.

# Third Steep: The Revelation

"Many paths lead from the foot of the mountain, but at the peak we all gaze at the single bright moon." —  Ikkyū Sōjun

  

Now we enter mushroom territory—that deep, umami-rich earthiness that speaks of ancient wisdom and forest depths. It's the flavor of soil that has been nurtured by countless seasons, of leaves that have known both sun and shadow.

The bitterness continues its dance of appearance and disappearance, moderate but fleeting, always retreating before it can overwhelm. But here, in this third act, something beautiful emerges after the swallow: huigan — that returning sweetness that surfaces from the depths, like sunlight breaking through forest canopy long after the initial brightness has passed.

This phenomenon reveals the tea's true nature—how it holds back its sweetest secrets, releasing them only when the palate has quieted and the mind has settled into stillness.

# Fourth Steep: The Farewell

"Tea is a religion of the art of life." — Okamura Kakuzō

The final steep brings us to a place of quiet contemplation—floral notes intertwining with a resolute bitterness, like bitter herbs mixed with flower petals. Perhaps this tea doesn't proclaim its aromatics with great ceremony, but therein lies its quiet dignity.

What emerges instead is that beautiful forest-earth undertone, that woody, grounded essence that speaks of trees and time, of patience and place. And as a parting gift, that lovely huigan returns once more, sweet and surprising, like finding an unexpected flower blooming in a shaded corner of the forest.

# The Final Word

This tea reminds us that not all beauty announces itself loudly. Sometimes the most profound experiences come wrapped in subtlety, revealing themselves only to those willing to sit quietly, to steep mindfully, to taste with intention. Like the most meaningful conversations, the most rewarding teas unfold slowly, honoring persistence with depth, silence with song.

 "Through tea, we learn to see the beauty in simplicity and find tranquility in the everyday."

— Sen Soshitsu

In the end, we are left not just with empty cups, but with fuller hearts—reminded that in the space between steeps, in the pause between sips, wisdom quietly accumulates, one drop at a time.

- written by JONS 〜