Some time ago, realistically the best part of a decade ago, I was in a fancy tea shop in Glasgow looking for a nice Gunpowder Green tea as part of a wedding present for a friend, and it turned out that tea shop was doing a tea tasting. (Why do I think of Whittards as fundamentally fancier than T2? It’s not as though their price points are appreciably different?) There were an array of glass teapots sitting out with tempting concoctions brewing away, so I gleefully allowed myself to be persuaded to join the tasting. They were all white teas – maybe an oolong mixed in for variety – and they were all very nice, but one of them blew me away. It was an unusual one, a white tea from Darjeeling, combining, the assistant assured me and I definitely agreed, the best of both kinds of tea. (Back when I was first exploring loose leaf teas, I worked my way through the classics of Indian teas as drunk in the UK – Assam, Ceylon, Darjeeling, Earl Grey – and settled happily on Darjeeling as my favourite – I love an Earl Grey, but it’s a tea for a particular mood, though it has the advantage of being hard to mess up, so even most coffee shops will stock it. But if I’m out for afternoon tea and they have Darjeeling, that’s what I’m having.) A rare, limited run of tea they said, and it’s certainly not on their website these days. It was also hideously expensive. I don’t now remember the price but, something like twice the price for half the amount, of the fancy gunpowder green tea I was buying my friend. I absolutely couldn’t justify it, but I’ve thought of it fondly ever since.
These days I know rather more about tea, and handily have rather more disposable income than I used to, so when I come across something different and/or special I can justify treating myself. A few months ago, I was at an outdoor craft market and came across a local tea blending company with an assortment of interesting blends along with simple interesting teas they imported themselves. (How to get a tea sellers undivided attention at an event like that, ask about oolongs apparently.) We had a delightful chat about oolongs we have known and enjoyed and I came away with a couple of interesting oolongs to try, chief excitement of which was one labelled Darjoolong. A combination of my two favourite kinds of tea, and as close to that fabled tea as I’m likely to find again, how could I resist? It was definitely not as gasp inducingly expensive as I remember the other one being, though it certainly was in the category of a ‘special occasion tea’ rather than everyday tea.
The tasting notes speak of caramel and cookies, but I didn’t notice that, what I noticed was that it tasted like a Darjeeling but softer, more like a white tea than the light but complex oolongs that I have come to love. Fundamentally it tasted of tea, pleasant mellow tea that doesn’t need milk because its just perfect by itself. I’ve made it in a cup with my little tea ball, I’ve made it in my pot and drunk cup after cup without quite realising it. It’s tea to be drunk while doing other things, tea that doesn’t draw attention to itself, or demand you drink up or abandon it. Tea that was absolutely worth the wait to find; tea that the only worry about using it up will be – when will I be able to get more of it again!
Cupboard Life 