From the ancient gardens of Mangjing, selected by Michael Zhan
In early April 2025, Michael Zhan walked the mist‑soaked paths of Jingmai’s Mangjing village. The old‑growth arbors, some over two hundred years old, were just pushing out their first tender buds. Working directly with a fourth‑generation Bulang family, he selected leaves from a single five‑acre grove. The altitude, around 1,300 metres, and the ancient red earth gave the leaf a pronounced floral backbone.
The family processed the leaves in the traditional way: sun‑withered on bamboo mats, wok‑fixed over a wood fire, rolled by hand, and sun‑dried for three days before stone‑compression into 357‑gram cakes. The pressing was intentionally light, letting the leaves open quickly during steeping while still supporting mid‑term aging. Jingmai teas stored in dry, warm conditions tend to develop a deeper honey character after three to five years.
This pressing was intimate: only twenty kilograms were made. The rest, once split and blind‑tasted at Sandry Law’s Kunming station, made it here. Each cake carries the quiet, deliberate spirit of Mangjing, a tea that invites slow brewing and patient cellaring.