08 July, 2011

White Labels

"White labels" - the anonymous, sexy, vinyl records much loved by DJs and other lovers of turntables.  I am reminded of my dear friend SC, whose house is as filled with white-label disks for his turntables as our house is filled with pu'ercha.  I think his hobby is (significantly) more expensive than mine, and so I feel better about myself already.

By analogy, a pu'ercha "white label" is a prototype, thrown together at a whim, without the pomp and circumstance of a fully-branded product.  Perhaps it is edgier, more immediate, more vital, more experimental.

Perhaps.


2006 Yiwu Laochencha


One of my two white-labels is a 2006 "Yiwu Laochencha" [Yiwu aged-tea], bought for a piffled 19 RMB ($3) from 普洱茶人家 [pu'ercha renjia, or Pu'ercha Family] via Taobao.  This entire cake costs less than a pint of beer, and is pictured in all its anonymous glory in the above photograph.

The second white-label that I've been drinking is the 2010 Hailanghao "Suibian", which means "casual" or "do as you wish".  Again, it was a very cheap cake, costing just $19 at Yunnan Sourcing.  Scott translated it as being "as you like", which is one word away from being a brilliant Shakespearian allusion.  The leaves of the Hailanghao are pictured below.  The small leaves are heavily compressed, and certainly look unassuming.


2010 Hailanghao Suibian
Hailanghao

The Laochencha is shown below.  For $3, it looks really rather good.  Amusingly, it has a blank space where a neifei [inner ticket] was once located.  It could be that these are a knock-off batch from elsewhere, stripped down to the bare essentials for resale.  Some of the leaves look noticeably red.


2006 Yiwu Laochencha
Laochencha

This colour continues in the cup, which is a solid orange.  It is gently, slightly woody and sweet, and yet clean and smooth.  There is a hint of a kuwei, as if the producers decided to retain a little energy.  It is a small, humble tea - everything is in miniature, but it is fair despite its tinyness.

I find it rather fun, being clean and ever-so-slightly cooling.  There is a flat maltiness, as one would expect from a reddened tea, but there are other components: a straw-like Yiwuesque note, perhaps even a very few leaves of quality, giving a tingling sensation.  It is a fun little blend, but, ultimately, my teapot gets a lot of it poured over his skin, as the simplicity and monotony of the tea begin to wear me down.


2006 Yiwu Laochencha
Laochencha

Meanwhile, the Hailanghao exhibits a power and an entertaining fruitiness that is beyond its price-tag.  The soup is slightly watery, slightly cloudy, but there is a long-lasting huigan.  It is not immensely complex, bit it is clean and powerful - much moreso than similar blends offered by mainstream tea companies.

In fact, this inexpensive blend has given me a better tea session that several of the single-mountain samples that I have recently bought from Yunnan Sourcing.  


2006 Yiwu Laochencha


Perhaps the Hailanghao, like the Laochencha, expires quickly: by the sixth infusion, the former is down to being a sweet, slightly citric water, although the clean kuwei [good bitterness] is mouthwatering.

Neither cake tempts me to drink more, but they are both cheap and cheerful - the Laochencha is absurdly cheap, and would make decent filler for an office tea, while the Hailanghao has more power than you might expect from a cheap cake.

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