A Bulang mountain spring, twelve years on
In spring 2012, on the misty slopes of Bulang, máochá was tasted straight from the wok in small Hani hamlets. This lot came from a cooperative of old arbor gardens near Bàtáng, at about 1,700 meters. The leaves were thick, muscular, and buzzing with a youthfully sharp bitterness that signalled they would need time — a lot of it. Rather than going to a humid coastal warehouse, this batch was left to rest in our Kunming partner cellar, where the air stays cool and arid, preserving clarity at the cost of speed. Year after year, the cake barely changed — until about year eight, when the camphor began to soften and the broth started yielding a deep walnut sweetness. Now, at twelve, it has reached the sweet spot of its aging curve: old enough to show complexity, young enough to retain the fierce Bulang backbone. Every infusion tells the story of that journey, from the Hani pickers’ songs on the mountain to the silent, patient storage that let the tea speak in its own time.