Goat Cheese and Green Tea? Delicious, Says Karen Dunlap, the Expert Behind Union Square Cafe’s New Tea Service
October 24, 2011 | By Cheryl Chan

Oh, the dry, sweet taste that begs for tea. At one time, a mysterious, alien like dessert – that I have since come to love and crave. Especially when drinking Japanese teas.

Many Americans, upon their first bite, get slightly freaked out. I tell you, this is an ancient candy made of all natural ingredients. Having a bite of wagashi WILL engage all five senses: sight (design), taste (often bean paste!), texture (for you to discover), scent (aroma) and sound (the name is similar to saying a word of poetry). Invoking the senses, engaging with the seasons – this Japanese way of being – is at the heart of wagashi.

They are made of grains, nuts, beans, fruits, etc. Their history goes back to Ancient Japan, and over the centuries the different shapes and styles of wagashi have taken on meaning. Their names express beauty of the natural world or refer ancient literature. In the 1400’s, they became incorporated in the Japanese Tea Ceremony.

Finding Wagashi outside of Japan
If you live in a major city, you most likely have access to buying wagashi at your local Asian supermarket. Mochi seems to be the most popular (gooey rice cake filled with red bean paste) – just the tip of the iceberg of styles.

In New York City, I go to Minamoto in Rockefeller Center. They have a fantastic selection of dried wagashi in seasonal shapes, plus fresh wagashi flown in daily from Japan. It’s a store, so everything is taken “to-go.” I enjoy the Japanese sales people that work there, and find myself bowing and speaking broken English, as I attempt to point/buy. Go there to get your “Lost in Translation” moment.

For Japanese teas paired with wagashi, I highly recommend Cha-An Tea House in the East Village. Ordering a bowl of matcha and mochi are one of my personal treats to myself.

Really?! Undrinkable tea should suit Americans??? (My eyebrow is raised high with this question). Hmmmmmmm. Looks like I’ll be bringing tea to make and share.

I’ll be staying in the town of Baiona, on the Atlantic Coast. I’m excited to swim, explore wineries, get medieval and spend time with the Smiths. Also curious to see what types of local herbs are grown, cultivated…and perhaps steeped. More from the road.
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Back from my trip
Trip Photos

Love Spain! However, Spain doesn’t love tea. They don’t have a tradition of drinking it really, as don’t have a history of cultivating or importing it. In the Spanish colonial days, the colonies grew coffee and chocolate. And then there was that whole English Royal scandal of King Henry the 8th divorcing Queen Catherine of Aragon – which didn’t entice the Spanish to take up a perceived English tea habit.

I confess: I enjoyed cafe con leches and cups of hot chocolate like a native. Why search for something that’s not there?

In traveling to Galicia, being hosted my Stephen’s family, I was the only American around. It was intoxicating living Spanish life on vacation. Waking up to the beach, having a cafe con leche, having a lunch of local seafood, wine and jamon. Taking a siesta. Going swimming in the cold Atlantic, then having a long dinner – with a swirl of English, Spanish and French languages.

I suppose the joy of all that…I can handle one country in the world that doesn’t drink tea.

I drink tea because I love to lose myself in the moment. Poets, artists have long been inspired by this seductive nature of tea.

Stephen suggested I write about this. The love stories of tea. It got me thinking, does making tea and being a good lover require the same ‘skill’ set? I’ve decided to explore this topic over the next few posts.

It takes practice to become good at something. Enjoying love and sex to the fullest extent requires us to be open, giving and compassionate. How do we practice staying open, especially as we age? How do we keep our hearts full of love? When we are single? When we have a partner?

I have no answer, exactly. Only that making tea daily has helped me to be open to life. It is a steady presence, within constant change. Over thousands of mornings, I have stood half asleep, at my stove heating water, looking at the leaves – washing out my teapot from the day before. Somewhere in that space, something deep inside says hello. Something that wouldn’t mean much to me if I only made tea occasionally. But over the years, has made a meaningful difference.

Approach making tea with the caress and care you would give someone you love.

Appreciate the water. Feel it on your hands. Think about the part of the earth it once rushed over before finding its way to you. Heat it. Hear the bubbles and sound start to form.

Look at the leaves, think of the rain and sun it needed to grow. Remember all the people it took to bring it to you, be thankful to them.

See the leaves becoming soft, changing color ever so slightly.

Listen to your intuition. Let it tell you when the tea is ready.

Taste with small sips, swirling it around on your tongue, let it remind, inspire, take you where it goes.

Say what you will about smoked teas, but I’m telling you we are hard wired to love the aroma of wood fires. Period. Why not exploit this instant sensation and feel good? Isn’t that why we really eat bacon?

I understood Lapsang Souchong in this new revelatory way, about a year ago, in the depths of heartache. God, I didn’t intend to feel better from drinking it, but I can tell you that breathing in campfire, something strong, primal like, welled up in me. I actually experienced a temporary relief. And discoveries like that, my friends, is really why tea drinking is great and surprising.

So, Lapsang Souchong, what’s the story on it? I thought I’d tell you the legend, with the caveat that smoked teas probably go back further than the 17th Century. But it is in the Wuyi Mountains, sometime during the Qing Dynasty that the smoked teas we drink today became to take form. I like the story; it reminds me that good things can come from unexpected circumstances.

The Legend of Lapsang Souchong

Time: Qing Dynasty (1644 –1912)
Setting: Wuyi Mountains, Fujian Province
Players: Army Unit, Tea Harvest Workers

The style of smoked tea became so popular that it began being copied all over China, which pissed off the tea growers in Wuyi – they invented it after all. So, to protect their regional style of smoky tea making and claim it as authentic, they began calling it Zengshan Xiaozhong, meaning “Real Wuyi Subvariety.” Over the years, our less melodic tongues in the West have changed the pronunciation to “Lapsang Souchong.”

Now where to buy some in 2010? Check out your local grocer, teahouse or favorite online tea vendor. Ask about their selection of smoked teas. If want to taste authentic Lapsang Souchong, specify you are looking for one from Wuyi region of Fujian Province. If you are open to smoked teas from other regions (why not?), just make sure they have undergone a process of being smoked over a wood fire. Avoid synthetic flavorings, really, treat yourself to the real thing.

In the last year, I’ve really liked the Lapsang at In Pursuit of Tea and The Tea Gallery.

One of my favorite people to drink gungfu cha with is the photographer Michael Halsband. He began learning about tea and making gungfu cha on an extended stay in Hong Kong while completing his Surf Book. Having tea with him, you get Hong Kong technique with touches of his own mischievous style. My favorite move of his is how he uses the gaiwan lid to rock the base plate when he is rinsing everything with water. It’s quick and it makes a clear chime that circles in the air a few seconds.

Last Sunday, there were 3 of us. Me, Michael and Bubba. He made for us his beloved Shui Xian, a Water Sprite Wuyi Cliff Oolong from 2007. Shui Xian is a style of Wuyi Cliff Oolong that is heavily roasted. It is good to let it age a few years – giving the roast a chance to relax. His brewing style is on the strong, aggressive side – and he brought out an astonishing deep, red amber color in the tea. He pushed the taste right to the limit, while still being sweetly complex.

Michael has his tea set-up on the table at the back of his photography studio, in reach of his stereo. Three large windows pour light in. I sit surrounded by contact sheets, work prints and film cameras. My two rivers of interest (tea and photography) merge deliciously for a few hours.

We often talk about following intuition – how there’s a similarity in developing photographs in the darkroom to brewing tea. First, learning technique – then, beginning to break the rules – following your intuition. How the tea starts to guide you on water, how to brew and drink it. Pretty similar to making an art piece – that feeling on knowing what to do next, and when it’s completed.

If you haven’t made tea this way and you are reading this – it is time to experience it. If you don’t know where or how, send me an email. I’ll figure out how to hook you up.

It’s not top shelf, but I have fallen in love with hojicha all the same. It wasn’t always like this, there were years when I turned my nose. What roasted tea twigs? Yuck! I mean, wasn’t there a reason for it being the cheapest price per lb tea exported from Japan?

Sometimes it takes something big for me to change my mind about something. For hojicha, it was tasting it in Kyoto at the Ippodo Tea House. This picture was taken there, as I leaned back in my seat. It was served in a rustic clay Kyushu teapot, with very hot water and paired with a red bean mochi. The feeling of the tea moved to all my limbs and I sighed with content. This was Kyoto, this was roasted tea as it was meant to be.

As for it being cheaper than other teas? It has to do with less value placed on the stems of the tea plant – where there is less flavor. The roasting helps bring the flavor forward and prolongs its shelf life. It’s a perfect tea to chose on a restaurant menu – it’s so sturdy – and will taste great no matter the care in brewing.

Oh, and the secret to Ippodo’s hojicha? A delicous second roast. And if you are in Kyoto, they roast it on Tuesdays – and for a 4 block radius – you can breathe in the sweet aroma of roasted tea.

This question was heavy on my mind on my recent trip back home to Oregon. Does this happen to people too? After 6 years in NYC, was I loosing something in me that I wanted to keep? Was I loosing an essence? Would I have to dig deep to find it again?

Jen picked me up from the airport and drove me to her house in Cannon Beach, a town of barely 1,000 people. The air smelled like sweet wood and oysters – we hiked through the woods to the beach, the immensity of the beauty slit me wide open. In the presence of a good friend, in pristine nature, I didn’t have to dig deep at all, I was home.

So, yes, tea does come from far away – by boat or plane. It’s going to have some jet lag. It’s up to us to revive it. The elements that make delicious tea are oddly similar to what makes life joyful. Paying attention/bring present, fresh water, beautiful setting and good friends. And in tea making, following your intuition is always rewarded.