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You know how tea descriptions can be a bit like wine descriptions in that they are both full of references to things that aren’t actually in there? A tea will be described as having notes of blackberry or toast or honey, even when it’s not a weirdy toasty-blackberry-jam blend and just contains honest-to-goodness tea leaves.
And it makes sense. They’re handy descriptors that tea (and wine) sommeliers like to bandy about. They provide a comparison point, against which one tries to articulate the hundreds of taste variations in a cup of Camillia sinensis. A fancy ‘fruity’ white tea doesn’t actually taste like a ‘fruit tea’ (thank goodness) but as a tea sipper, I can recognise that there is something there with a fruity vibe, even though the predominant taste of the tea is still ‘tea’.
Here’s the weird thing about Whittard Gyokuro, it actually does taste like the non-tea things it’s supposed to taste like. Gyokuro is varyingly described as having the taste of grass, fresh peas and butter. And yup, it tastes like buttered vegetables and garden foliage were literally part of its manufacturing process.
It’s very odd. I’m three cups in now and I haven’t decided whether or not I like it yet. I think I do. I’m just going to have to keep sipping until I know for sure.
Gyokuro is a highly prized Japanese green tea with an unusual production process. While the tea plants are still growing, they are covered with straw and effectively grow in the dark for three weeks. (This is very different from the ‘smothering’ process used to make yellow teas, which takes place after the tea has been harvested.)
The straw structures placed over the Gyokuro plants filter out up to 90% of the light and the tea develops what the Japanese call “the flavour of the shadows”. It’s a time-consuming and expensive process, which results in a unique tasting tea.
Whittard Gyokuro is neon green in colour and tastes like nothing I’ve ever tasted before. It’s certainly a world away from a cup of builders brew black tea. It’s genuinely astonishing to me that both drinks come from the same plant.
But that’s Camellia sinensis for you. It’s so versatile that it’s virtually a shapeshifter. It’s no wonder that we tea fanciers get so excited about it.
Today’s featured book is Green Grass of Wyoming by Mary O’Hara. This tea has absolutely nothing to do with Wyoming but it definitely has the ‘green grass’ thing going on.
