Everything comes to an end. When a tea plant no longer produces many leaves, it is replaced. The lifespan of a tea plant is quite variable, generally between 30 and 50 years, although China claims to have some that are a thousand years old.
The trunk and roots of the tea plant burn well, and heat the oven in which the tea leaves are dried after oxidisation, for example.
When the British were in charge of tea production they created vast estates and put in place systems to manufacture large quantities of tea. On each estate they built a bungalow, which might be small or large, for the planter. Today, in India and Sri Lanka, for example, you still see these buildings that are typical of the British era. I am often invited by planters to stay in their bungalows, like this one in Amgoorie (India), which is generally considered to be one of the finest.
You can’t serve a slice of Pu Erh “cake” on a plate. Nonetheless, this tea is traditionally consumed on feast days in China.
The Pu Erh cake used to be known as a Tribute tea and would be offered as a gift to the Court, in honour of the Chinese Emperor. It is a tea with a long and venerable past.
The end-of-year festivities are frequently accompanied by overeating. At a time when many of us welcome friends and family into our homes, we enjoy preparing delicious meals and treats for our guests. It is not only the quality that is often high, but also the quantity. As for me, I like to finish a good meal with a cup or bowl of tea, to help me digest. I don’t know if the effect is purely psychological but it feels real, which is good enough for me. In China, Pu Erh is said to be the best tea to drink during times of feasting. This tea is special in that it is covered and fermented for at least 45 days. During this time, the temperature is checked, hence this thermometer stuck into a pile of tea leaves covered with a cloth. It reads 53°C.
To illustrate this Christmas period, I searched among my photos to find something seasonal: a combination of green and red, for example, to remind us of the holly branches with their red berries.
I show you green throughout the year, with all those fields of tea, but red is much harder to come by.
Take a good look at this little winding path near Teesta Bazar (India) and you will spot three tea pluckers beneath their red parasol. They are like you, they have just done their shopping and are returning home, having a good chat on the way.
I know that your main objective at the moment is to wrap your purchases so they are ready to go under the Christmas tree in a few days’ time. Well, in China there’s a tea called Pu Erh which requires wrapping with just as much care. Pu erh can be bought loose, but it is mainly found in the form of a compressed cake. Having been left to dry on racks, each cake is wrapped in a sheet of printed rice paper, as you can see in this photo. The protected cakes are then wrapped in groups of seven in a dried banana leaf. The tea is then ready to embark on its journey and arrive with you after the festivities, which is just at the right time: in China, Pu Erh is said to lower cholesterol. Rightly or wrongly, it is sometimes known as the “fat-eating” tea.
A few days ago I bought a wonderful third flush Singbulli, and this morning I have just confirmed the purchase of a Rohini, also harvested in November. The first lot only weighs 70 kilos, the second lot just a little more, and they will arrive in France in December.
Those of you who love fine Indian teas must remember that Darjeelings produced in March, June and the autumn have very little in common. The reason is that this mountain you see here, Kanchenjunga (8,586 m), creates a great contrast with the weather conditions of the plains on the subcontinent. Darjeeling is one of the tea-producing regions with the most varied climate.
In warmer seasons, the southerly wind brings some of the stifling heat of the plains to these mountains. On the other hand, as winter approaches, the peaks make their presence felt, the sky becomes clear and the temperature drops. And the growth of the tea plants gets slower and slower, which is another reason for the variations in their flavours.
A few weeks ago I introduced you to a creature which, while not exactly loveable, is highly admirable. On my French blog, someone said it might belong to the Nephila family, others said it could be one of the Theridiidae or Nicodamidae families. After seeing the many comments you left, I’ve decided to introduce you to another creature today. Equally elegant, I encountered it recently after it slid silently between the branches of a tea bush, just level with my waist. Tea bushes are planted close to each other to make harvesting easier, which means that when you decide to venture into the middle of the field, your feet are completely hidden from view. So you walk looking straight ahead, moving as best you can. You don’t take any notice of the many beasts living in these humid conditions.
Here in Assam, while I was holding back the branches of the shrubs to clear my path, the man behind me stopped me suddenly because he’d seen something yellow near my left arm, undulating beneath the foliage. Once I’d got over my surprise, I turned my head slowly, moving as little as possible so that the animal would never imagine I was anything other than an ordinary tree trunk, to avoid stressing it unnecessarily.
A few minutes later, my companion showed me this fine-looking snake on the end of his stick so that I could take its photo, and now I’d like to know its name. It was as beautiful as a rare jewel and as supple as a necklace, and it gleamed like gold. Before leaving us, overcome by shyness, the snake took the time to make something resembling a heart shape with its body, a way of asking us to respect all the love that nature offers us.
In some plantations where organic or sustainable farming methods are used, you will see citronella plants growing among the tea bushes or along the edges of paths. There are several advantages to the citronella’s presence, particularly its ability to repel many insects that would damage the precious tea leaves.
At the end of every morning and afternoon during the harvest, the women gather to get their leaves weighed. It’s an opportunity to relax, and everyone talks, unless they want to listen to what the others have to say. Of course, if they find a stranger like myself among them, as they did that day, their tongues wag even faster, accompanied by plenty of laughter.
While listening to their colleagues joking, the pluckers run their hands through the leaves to check the quality of their work. The pretty red and white fabric these women wear on their heads is typical of their region: Assam.
