Jingmai Tete A Tete

Jingmai Tete A Tete finally gives the Puerh Junky the chance to brandish his nonexistent French.  More importantly, it allows him to discuss an interlude between two Jingmai from 2014, the Guper and Haixintang.  This encounter has been more than a month in waiting, as it took a spell to complete the Haixintang page.  Let’s start there.

Haixintang

Toward the end of ’22 after loading up on Xinghai offerings, the Puerh Junky decided upon a deeper exploration of Haixintang.  Both the brick and tuo forms of Grenouille impressed, but it was time to determine whether something of their production personality could be gleaned by picking up a few of their offerings.  An ’06 tuo from Youle could not make The Collection for the time being.  Its got an unfamiliar Youle expression in the Puerh Junky‘s limited forays with that terroir.  At the same time, it does manifest an aggressive spirit that resembles some aspects of Grenouille.  Conversely, the Jingmai to be discussed and ’08 Nannuo (unlisted) could hardly be viewed in the same light.  Instead of aggression, the focus is on simplicity, a truth to the terroir.  It’s difficult to find a thread uniting them.  Let’s get on to how the Jingmai measures up to the GPE offering.

GPE & HXT (Sitting in a Tree)

Jingmai is often recommended for newbies.  The aroma is bright, fresh, effulgent.  There’s probably a great amount of it that’s given the ole sweet-me-now processing, so brewing tends to be very forgiving.  The terroir is large and it’s also conceivable that by some measure it’s naturally sweet earlier than some others.  It’s also imaginable that there’s a processing style common among many producers that favours woking for sweetness.

The thing is the Puerh Junky never came into contact with such Jingmai between ’12-15.  Large- or small-leaf varieties, they were quite typical of other productions requiring a spell to transform.  One possible exception was the first Jingmai tasted in KM, which was a very early spring, tippy production that possessed formidable bitterness behind the orchid aroma.  These prefatory remarks relate directly to the contrast between the GPE and HXT offers.

Both have a wickedly inviting aroma but the GPE possesses a bitterness, a burliness that is possibly less frequently offered by Western vendors.  The HXT hasn’t even a smidge of bitterness.  It’s perfect for the beginning brewer.  The HXT is one of the most even-keeled production ever drunk.  Though infusion times require building, the taste and character hardly budges.  The sweetness remains about the same, ditto for the very mild astringency.  It’s a light refreshing breeze by a tree-lined brook, a shallow and clean brook streaming over little smooth pebbles, shimmers of sunlight here and there.

Suppose you decide to head downstream and you know that you’re in a Grimm Fairytale.  Since we’re talking about a Jingmai, you know that the story should turn out happily ever after, but not without a bit of drama, a lost shoe, some misbehaving ogre, an unrelenting step-relative.  That’s the GPE.  The travails make the story at the very least more interesting.  There’s a crescendo, it’s going somewhere, that part of Jingmai that your step-uncle didn’t tell you about.

Final Words

The tete a tete between GPE and HXT reveals a remarkable contrast between two offerings from the same terroir.  HXT is definitely best for those averse to bitterness, beginners, and for moods where one can do without the drama.  GPE is for those who haven’t had Jingmai bitterness and depth while still remaining true to the Jingmai spirit.  Thought this clip at 6:41 captured the differences.

Tuo for Two

Tuo for Two is a modern-day reverie.  Don’t laugh.  You should be crying.  The three tuo consumed over the past two days are a cryin’ shame.  Before the gory details, a pressing grammatical question should first be laid to rest.  The plural form of “tuo” is tuo.  If you see “tuos” written somewhere, try to be kind.  Even the “your/you’re” dragon has resisted the slings and arrows of correction.  What chances does tuo, much further down on the list of grammatical grievances, actually have?  Now that we dispensed with that there’s something else. .

Given the title of this missive, chances are good that many readers are harboring suspicions that the Puerh Junky considers cornball allusions to Cole Porter cutting edge.   If you don’t know who Cole Porter is, you still might harbor suspicions but of a different sort.  Mind you, I have it on good authority that one should never let a Cole Porter allusion slip by, even if he didn’t write the lyrics.

Two Days of Tuo-ture

Recently the Puerh Junky posted an easy-listing page.  No, you won’t find Christopher Cross or Steely Dan, but there’s a slew of raw tuo.  One is the T861, Tulin which has been in the Collection since ’15.  There are two remaining.  At one time it bore the name AMT.   Comments there are interestingly honest however aberrant that sesh was.

Dry T861 gives off limestone, honey, and a slight hint of newspaper.  Brewed in red clay, the mineral notes stand out, while in the gaiwan it is sweet and smooth with a hint of humidity.  The astringency attacks the blade of the tongue, lips, and deep in the throat.  The Chinese call this “ghost pinching the throat,” 鬼掐喉咙。 Overall, the taste is what is associated with peat.  The huigan is nicely complex with light humidity, honey, and minerals chatting on in unison.  The seriously sweet broth possesses complimentary thickness.  Beware!  There’s lotsa camphor to this.  Upon exhalation even a hint of something floral can be caught.  As one progresses in gaiwan this floral element becomes more pronounced.  Zero smoke, even a bit of sour.  Deeply satisfying, really the epitome of what a recipe puerh should be: cured with character.

Infusions 2 and 3

I accidentally left the 6.3g of the Red Mark Tuo in the same 100ml red clay pot too long.  Out poured a syrupy decoction.  I was certain that it was going to be horrible but ended up horrified.  I’ve been drinking this since Jan ’20 but in Sept ’22 it is not just the best its been but a serious contender for one of the best offerings in the collection.

Foto from early 2022

It’s so smooth and balanced.  Dense petrol, wood, and incense characterize the broth.  It’s not remotely pencil shavings, caustic, or for want of any additional note.  There is a subtle camphor note tying everything together keeping it from becoming oppressive, excessively unctuous.  The summer has been very good to the Red Mark Tuo.

First acquiring the Tiger Tuo sometime in early ’16, it ended up aging quickly into a root beer-y delight.  I decided to reup on the order in the ’20 and then found it at a better price later in the year.  There’s something to be said for slow storage.  In this case, the sharpness has receded while the interesting pineapple and other fruit notes have been preserved.

Summer has also been very good to the Tiger Tuo.  It’s super sweet, thick, and fruity, with a thread of pine sap that makes it distinctive.  A fellow drinker called it the best she’s ever had like “paint thinner”.  What a compliment.  Tiger is light years from the treasures mentioned above.  It hasn’t entered into the transformed state where the camphor comes in and the liquor turns reddish, but it’s transformed sufficiently to allow the sap and sugars to emerge.  There’s no telling how long it will remain in this state.   V. slight smoke and comprised of about five terroir including a Jingmai backbone, along with Bangwei, Bingdao, and others.

 

Wild Jingmai GPE Returns

Wild Jingmai GPE Returns draws the reader’s attention to the restocking of a very good production.  It was last written about in Oct ’20.  As noted in the product description, WJM more than doubled from the Puerh Junky’s original purchase price.  Whereas it was previously a certifiable steal, the price is still quite fair compared to offerings of similar factory reputation, age, and quality.

Perhaps since the last missive on WJM, it has increased in viscosity and sweetness.  The tight compression might be contributing to its pronounced vivaciousness.  It’s hard to say.  The recent lot hails from the same vendor as before.  He favours very conservative storage.  By contrast, his ’07 Tibetan Script Jingmai, GPE, though considerably more expensive, required two years storage on the Los Angeles side before the offering was in drinking shape. Curiously, the Wild Jingmai has always been highly drinkable.

Despite being eight years old, there are none of the ferment-y notes that can be fairly typical for this age.  The unabashed bitterness in later infusions offers a distinctive contrast to its seductive candy floral aroma.   There was a time when I might bash my head against the wall differentiating between bitterness and astringency, but after reading a post where one confused sour for bitter it’s best to leave well enough alone.  That said, astringency is a texture and bitterness is a flavour.  WJM gets off-the-charts bitter deeper down without tasting as though the bitterness is from being immature; rather, it reflects a very common attribute among Jingmais in general.  No doubt about it, WJM is hegemonic, what the call in Chinese badao, 霸道。

Wild Jingmai joins Jingmai “003” as the only other entire Jingmai in the Collection. The Ox Tuo and the Ox, 6FTM consist of Jingmai blends.

Puerh Junky Visits Ox, 6FTM

Puerh Junky Visits Ox, 6FTM forms part of an on-going saga.  Perhaps the Ox has occupied more digital space than any of the other 6FTM Lunar Series offerings.  It made a quick cameo in a recent post on leaves, occasioning this update.  It’s included in the Six Famous Tea Mountain sample set of Sampler U and is also one of the few samples available from the 6FTM Lunar Series.  Enough with the preliminaries. . .

Flash Rinse

A total of 5.5g were placed in my 150ml slow-pour zisha teapot reserved for floral productions.  Compared with previous experiences, the Ox appears to have turned the corner in two regards: humidity and sweetness.  The humidity has now taken a significant backstage.  Even though one can detect the humidity, it is obvious that the microbial vibe is significantly less than what it was previously.  This concept is known as tuicang, though no intentional effort was made to retreat the humidity.  This is just the product of normal LA storage, no tinning or nuthin’ was involved.

Infusions 10 and 11? One minute soak.

Concomitant with humidity’s retreat arises sweetness heretofore absent.  It’s quite interesting how the sharper attributes have all softened with the emergence of the sweetness.  It’s not sugary sweet but it is sweet and mellow with a subtlety and character of a production that has been carefully aged.  Elegant and refined.

The huigan is stellar, evoking a sense of a sweet flower like honeysuckle.  If you know what you’re tasting for, you’ll find an interesting expression of the Fengqing terroir which was much more noticeable at an earlier stage and tends to be the overriding character with the Pig and Rat.  Most all Yunnan black teas (hongcha) hail from Fengqing.  That’s the note.  Now this note is much more inconspicuous, more in harmony with the Hekai and Jingmai material.

 

Two different angles of light demonstrate the marked differences in the same production at the same time of day.

The Ox presently at an early old stage, where most of the youth has aged out while the sweetness has emerged.  More intense brewing will give a bit of astringency on the tongue but the real gem is the floral huigan.  More intense brewing also magnifies the huigan.  Perhaps the qi to this is relaxing.  It certainly didn’t inhibit sleep as it was drink right before bed.  It’s fair to say that the Guangdong storage has taken a bit from the qi side of the production.

Heavier stored productions that leave a taste of the tea and not the effects of storage are very highly regarded by the Puerh Junky.  Needless to say that the transparency ranks highly as well.

 

Puerh Junky Visits: Fujin Green

Puerh Junky Visits: Fujin Green is an update post regarding the ’09 offering from Fujin.  Puerh Junky has issued at least two missives about both this production in particular and the factory in general.   It’s hard to not roll one’s eyes when it comes to the expense of some of these boutique offerings, but so it is.  At the height of summer and humidity-plus storage, the thought occurred “why not dust off the ole PJRS for a serious evaluation.”

Fujin Green prompted a bit of thinking about the seasonality involved with natural storage.  Performance ebbs and flows in accordance with the seasons.  Right now, FG is at its best.  The aura surrounding Fujin factory becomes somewhat understandable upon opening the wrapper: strong waft of fruity and floral notes fill the nostrils.  The Henan storage gives the impression that the production is still young, five-years old at the most.  This youthfulness is evident throughout and there is a particular green note that is, putting it diplomatically, highly unusual in puerhs and certainly puerhs processed through traditional methods.  Fujin productions are processed by Xinghai factory so there’s little cause for suspicion about shiesty processing.

Infusion #1

At this age and given the general conditions, puerhs should have a bit of ferment to them.  This is not the case with the Fujin Green, also highly anomalous.  It fair to guess that it will go through such a stage but is still off by a year or two.  At its current stage in Aug ’22, it is the closest expression to a two-year-old puerh in the collection. . . ostensibly.  One of the features possibly distinguishing it from a young production, however, is that it drinks all the way through.  In other words, it never reaches a raw stage where it bottoms out indicating that it needs more curing time.  This happened in previous sessions.

Brewing

I decided on using 6.5g in my 150ml workhorse zisha pot.  The pot pours quickly and doesn’t clog easily.  Older and more tightly compressed cakes may take as much as eight grams, but that’s rare.  The usual amount is 7g for this pot, but judging from the smell, 7g seemed excessive.  I don’t like overleafing because it smashes the notes.  In retrospect, even 6.5g may have been too much.  Fujin Green overall pushes to the very edge of being too much.  Stunt drinkers, of which there seems no short supply, will definitely delight in drinking this.  I administered no rinse and flash infused each round.

Rating

After three rounds the total was as follows:

  • Aroma          13
  • Clarity          11
  • Sweetness   15
  • Viscosity      13
  • Astringency  14
  • Huigan         15
  • Qi                 15

Reflections on Fujin Green

Fujin Green is intense.  It lives up to the reputation of the factory.  Each infusion differs a mite.  The character is certifiably Bulang/Banzhang, with an unapologetic bitterness.  The first infusion releases a high floral aroma, which could be easily associated with Jingmai material.  The taste in the the first infusion begins with citrus at the front of the tongue, then proceeds to vanilla mid tongue before finishing with vetiver.  For those unfamiliar with vetiver, it is a dark resinous essential oil with strong baby powder notes.

Infusion #2

The second infusion is much more intense and complex with prevailing notes of grapefruit seed and vanilla.  The liquor coats the mouth leaving the huigan of citrus, then vanilla, and finally that eau de Lick-a-Stix taste.  Pronounced piercing perfume (not vetiver but much higher) and vegetal green notes make their presence known, both quite hideous by the Puerh Junky’s reckoning.  The citrus fruit sourness and a balanced sweetness, offset those figurative flaws.

Second infusion was totally murky.  Both the first and third infusions were crystal clear. By the second infusion the ferocity of the qi became an issue.  The first pot went strait to the head but the second stirred raucously in the chest.

The citrus vibe continues into the third infusion, with the dreaded dry-sheet note making its presence known in the huigan.  Throughout each session the vaunted houyun resounds.  In other words, it’s throaty.  By this round, I was ready to tap out.  The qi has a character not altogether dissimilar from the BZ Peacock, despite being in totally different classes, FG being Floral Class and BZP being Tobacco Class.

Infusion #3

I also had suspicions about FG being a gut buster, which proved to be true.  I served up infusions 4-6 to a visitor who, drenched in sweat from the power, complained of this, stating that such was her experience with tea most of the time.  It was the first among our many sessions.  Gut-busting adds to the stunt-tea appeal. <<ahem>>

Conclusions

Fujin Green is an intense raw puerh most appropriate for the stunt tea drinker seeking young expression in a puerh well over 10 years old.  The huigan and qi are exceptional, and the sweetness is perfectly balanced in the context of the overall treasure itself.  It’s an outstanding production that lives up to the reputation that the factory projects.

96/105 A

Shocking Puerh Changes

Shocking Puerh Changes relates the on-going observations of the Puerh Junky with his pre-2016 purchases.  Specifically, it involves the dangers of classifying productions, which are wont to transform into an entirely different category.  It is also part of a saga of discovering erstwhile duds were nothing of the sort, but processed in such a way where they only have come into form after a great deal of time.  Let’s begin.

Shifting Puerh Class

The ’07 Prince of Vanilla came into the Puerh Junky’s possession in ’15.  It hails from the Longyuan TF, which produces an awful lot of tea, many with super fancy wrappers.  In the year of its incarnation, ’06, the PoV won some type of metal at some competition that was essentially ignored upon acquisition.  The wrapper captures a theme of a continued Dai/Thai tradition thus comprising a thematic “fit.”  Compression is one of the most noticeable features of the cake.  Whereas most Menghai productions from this era have been machine pressed with serious zeal, the PoV is quite moderately pressed.

Nothing impresses more than the ability of competition tasters.  Over the years, it is hard to say any thing had particularly stood out about the PoV and for copetition tasters to detect award-winning traits hot off the press boggles the mind.  In one missive, I mentioned that Prince of Vanilla made for good bowl drinking and that the qi was stout, a great firm drink in the Tobacco Class for the morning.  At one time, there was a vanilla note, which earned it its name, but after some time faded residing rather humbly in the Tobacco Class most distinguished by its wrapper.

As such, it never garnered any special storage attention and could said to have been relegated to quasi-purgatory treatment.  Special attention means more humidity and purgatory means getting whatever humidity possible, which isn’t a whole lot.  This could prove positively disastrous in the desert, but Los Angeles isn’t exactly a desert climate given the famous marine layer that adds a bit of humidity to the air for about three of the four seasons.

As of the summer of ’22, the Prince of Vanilla’s Tobacco Class days are very behind it.  It is now a Fruit Class bomb.  It’s not like the Thick Zen where there are just fruit notes.  No, it is screaming blueberry, a taste which lingers and lingers long after done drinking.  It’s as though this is the material from which the mercurial Merlot was taken.  Merlot is a ripe which was originally going to be called Crunch Berries because it was so fruity but then settled into something more like Merlot before shifting back into to a voluble fruity expression. . . with more qi.  It seems sometimes that consistent dry storage will develop this fruit character, instead of strong camphor and tree roots.  The storage is certifiably dry but it isn’t in the least dry tasting.  That occurs when storage is too dry and too hot, which in any event result in different notes.  Here, nothing about the PoV is dry.  It’s super summer fun.

Jingmai Puerh Awakens

Another ’15 acquisition was a Jingmai with a stunning wrapper from a now either defunct or reorganized outfit called Mountain Top TF.  The fate of such a factory is quite telling.  To wit: the ’09 Jingmai is only now starting to show signs of promise in ’22.  A new factory faces a serious uphill batter for survival if their processing required waiting a good 15 years before coming into form.  This is a battle that Mountain Top appears to have lost, but there’s still its offerings for evaluation and enjoyment.

Perhaps most surprising about this Jingmai was its utter absence of the signature Jingmai florality.  Youth and processing notwithstanding, Jingmai are still expected to possess a floral character.  Without any particular character or floral expression, this production was nothing short of a major dud, especially given its exquisite wrapper and very careful pressing.  As such, it was set aside and essentially given the purgatory treatment: dry and given little if any fuss.

The July ’22 tasting proved surprising.  There is a hint of flowers starting to emerge amidst a very sweet broth.  It’s hard to imagine how such tastes and aromas age into a production, but this is what makes puerh aging so interesting.  Also shocking is the virtual absence of colour in such an old production.  By all accounts, I would have guessed that this was a ’20 Lincang processed for young consumption, the exact opposite of the facts.

The caste of the broth stays this colour throughout.  There may be a hint of pink in there which is supposed to a mark of the absolute best.  It could also be from the time of day the photo was taken.  I paid more attention to whether the floral note would express more strongly, how long the sugariness would continue, and whether the broth would darken up or go through a cloudy stage than the nature of the hue itself.  It never went through a cloudy stage nor did it get darker.  The richness and sugar start to fade in the 6th and 7th infusions.  Clearly its most humbling feature involves the colour, as a typical barometer of age.  Curve balls of this sore make the Puerh Junky all the more apprehensive in doubting some age claims.

The remaining cakes were resting in more humid climes for a few months, but there’s a measure of storage orchestration with which I’m currently contending, so they’re back to purgatory for at least the next week. The Jingmai will be sampled again at the end of the summer.  I’ll be particularly interested in how long it lasts and whether the floral note continues to develop, as I’m finding with the Bulang Shengtai.

 

Floral Class Puerh

Floral Class Puerh is not a monolith.  Many variables factor into the quality of flower notes.  These are age and terroir primarily, not to mention the time of year and whence the leaves are picked.  Let’s examine each of these a bit more closely.

Floral Class Puerh and Age

One of the main drivers of floral attributes is age.  By age, we’re talking about  how old the leaves actually are.  If we imagine floral notes as keys on a piano, then we could assign younger productions to higher keys and older productions to mid-range keys.  Young productions have a tendency toward being “pitchy.”  It’s not uncommon for these to possess sharpness, an edginess that carries with it a measure of bitterness and astringency.  These attributes most often mellow with age, though some will intensify into perfume and incense depending on the particulars of the production.  Some young productions will express no florality only to age into it.  such is the case with some very highly regarded Yiwus.  This floral attribute will be of a much different nature from its young counterparts from other terroir due to where they reside on the keyboard.  These are not the least bit “pitchy.”

Floral Class Puerh and Terroir

The topic of floral class puerh and terroir is bound to create confusion and elicit strong reactions.  Part of the discord arises from differences among villages within a terroir.  Village productions within a terroir may differ considerably from the region name itself.  For example, Yiwu region productions are not floral, while Yiwu villages Mahei and Yibang often express floral tendencies.

Another factor for consideration in this regard is house style.  Some house styles despite being situated in one region may focus upon a niche not generally associated with the terroir itself.  Here the brand carries the day and seems to be the approach of most vendors from Taiwan, but is also evident in Chinese factories offering recipe productions.  Recipe productions here is characterized by bearing numbers, like 7542 (of course).

In general, if the productoin states the name of the the terroir, then information about the puerh class to which it belongs follows.  Daxueshan, Jingmai, Fengqing are some of the most vaunted floral terroirs.  Factories tending toward the floral side are Liming, Mengkurongshi (MKRS), and 6FTM.

To be continued. . .

 

Puerh Rating: Wild Jingmai

The Puerh Junky Rating System (PJRS) takes on Wild JingmaiJingmai puerh is characterized by an orchid aroma.  Young, they are very bright, optimistic, and magical, while still expressing razor thinness, alertness, and astringent and bitter zing.  This cake, from ’14, is from an on-going series that GPE runs. Some of the earlier productions are associated with a famous tea master.

After three rounds the results were as follows:

  • Aroma        13
  • Clarity         11
  • Sweetness  11
  • Viscosity     13
  • Astringency 11
  • Huigan        13
  • Qi                 8

Reflections

The Puer Junky regards this Jingmai as far better than average.  At this stage it still expresses bright and clean notes.  Given the lineage of this production, it is not suspect in the least.  The viscosity, aroma, and huigan place it in rarefied aire.  It’s lowest mark is in qi about which the Puerh Junky can be particularly rigid.

This Wild Jingmai is an offering that has fantastic storage potential.  GPE is a factory that goes back to ’99.  They are known for their ripe squares (fangcha) and this particular Wild Jingmai production.  Their raw material centers around the Simao terrior, with a house style that is big on taste.  This is the best Jingmai cake that the Puerh Junky has tasted since 2013.

Conclusions

There is no need to be overly long winded about the Wild Jingmai.  It is a young puerh that is drinkable now but with at least 20 yrs history behind its production.  It is in the floral class of puerhs, not exactly Zen and maybe a little bit macho without smoke or tobacco notes.  This isn’t the piercing florality of first flush productions.  The word that came up was “fresca”.   Puerh Rating: Wild Jingmai

80/105, B

Puerh Cake Take: Jingmai Truth

This Puerh Cake Take is entitled “Jingmai Truth.”  It’s a reference to the true taste of the ’14 Wild Jingmai, a quintessentially floral puerh terrior.  This GPE tea is one of their best out the gate and strongly representative of the region.

When we talk about the raw floral puerhs there are many variations.  The Jingmai floral is described as “orchid.”  It stands in contrast to the Fengqing/Daxueshan black tea floral note.  Good Jingmai floral can be quite inviting at a young age.  It also represents a style of puerh processing that stands in contrast to classic recipes that require long term storage.

This entry daringly assumes some Jingmai Truth that differs from a Bulang Truth or an Yiwu Truth.  Indeed.  Jingmai must be floral: how the flowers pop in aroma as well as taste and huigan determine its truth.  The Wild Jingmai rates highly by all these measures.  It has citrus note in line with the Jade Mark and a mouthfeel like the Mystery dragon pearl.

In my June 2020 tasting of the Wild Jingmai, I keep coming back to truth.  The impression is akin to proof in spirits.  Even flavour-infused vodkas are brighter and cleaner than the lightest brandy not to mention whiskey.  Here we have very bright notes but with an undertow that is already exhibiting pleasing attributes for drinking now.

 

Visiting the 05 Peacock Puerh, LM

Visiting the ’05 Peacock Puerh, LM is not what I’d consider to be the most memorable experience.  I’ve been sitting on this for about three years.  It is tightly pressed early spring material from what seems to be Daxue Shan or Jingmai material, but this is only a guess.

A few weeks ago, I took it out of storage.  I has a session with it about two weeks ago, where I noted strong green floral notes quite similar to 6FTM Lunar Series productions.  However, the Monkey is far superior to this production. . . at least what I’ve tasted of it.

Infusion #6

Infusion #6

For starters the ’05 Peacock takes two infusions not counting the rinse to get beyond a storage taste, one that it had upon acquisition.  None of the 6FTM Lunar Series have a stale storage vibe.  The ’05 Monkey upon acquisition four years ago already had some distinctive spice notes.  The ’05 Peacock is starting to develop a hint of petrol, but only for the second and third infusions.

The aftertaste of the ’05 Peacock is its greatest attribute.  Usually by now, a production of this age has floral notes that are more chrysanthemum or dandelion in nature not orchid.  In this regard it is quite similar to the Jingmai “003” from the same year, though the “003” has a young floral zing in the liquor as well as the aftertaste.   In some regard, both possess aggressive attributes.  The robustness of the ’05 Peacock’s liquor fades quickly before expressing Zen characteristics.

Aged appearance, some froth.

The body feel and effect of the Peacock is non-existent.  The “003” and the Lunar Series are both far superior in this regard.

I’ve tasted the ’05 Peacock, LM on numerous occasions.  I find it disappointing and overrated.  The ’06 Peacock Brick, also by LM by contrast, is rich, spicy, and durable.  They’re qualitatively different productions.  The ’05 is decidedly spring tea, which is what accounts for it valuation.  The Lunar Series and the “003” are two better productions that fall within the same floral class.