There is a very pretty pub in this city, by the river. Everything nice, everything routine. Bridge, running water, old buildings. Also, it has a bunch of peacocks strutting around. GRRAAAKKEEK! It's not a peaceful place.
Old-school Gs among you might recall some similarly pretty-but-obnoxious cakes in the "peacock" range from Dayi, in 2008. We had the Peacock of Badashan, and the Peacock of Menghai, and even the Peacock of Mengsong. While perusing the darker zones of our tea-toom, I discovered a cake that I've not written about before: the 2008 PEACOCK OF BULANG. Just when you thought it couldn't get any more bitter, we find a Bulangshan cake.
This cake has spent its entire life in storage at our place - we bought our house at almost exactly the same time as we bought these cakes. Therefore, I am tense! It has only known British storage. Will it be any good?
It has a dense scent of sweet darkness, which is, at least, mildly suggestive of improvement. The scent in the wenxiangbei is "breadlike" and sweet, which is, again, not bad news.
It is strong (strong!) plantation tea, as expected. The soup, pictured below, demonstrates that - lo and behold - it does appear to have aged somewhat. The chunky yellow Dayi youth has gone, at least.
It is clean, bitter, and has a soft and settled flavour. Also, it is bitter. I am primarily thrilled by the fact that it doesn't suck, and secondly quite surprised that it tastes reasonably humid. British storage is a funny thing: it is (very) wet, which you can taste in the air when you come home from abroad; this avoid the "dry" storage aspect. However, it isn't very warm here, and so cakes do not rocket off into the aging that you'd expect from humid Asian regions close to the equator. The result is interesting - it is a little like aging a super-tight tuocha in Asia, in the sense that its aging is slow (deliberately so, in the case of a supertight tea).
For $10, I am surprised that it is so drinkable. I wonder if I have the mystery fifth variety of Peacock around here somewhere...
tuesday - shops, restaurants
mother and child
emerge from the cathedral
their pushchair stolen
I cannot tell
French peaches from nectarines
- that's an apple
you taught him to beg
I wonder when you will
teach him to read