From the brick-red soil of Mengku to a Mongolian cellar.
These gardens were first visited in late spring of 2022, when the old roads were still being rebuilt after the rains. Mengku sits tucked in the Lincang range, where the broad-leaf varietal has been cultivated for centuries. The hills here are steep, the fog comes in thick, and the tea acquires a certain brightness — a honeyed clarity — that is hard to find elsewhere.
The three pressings in this flight come from a trusted cooperative, one that still stone-presses small batches and dries the cakes slowly under bamboo sheds, never in forced heat. In 2023, the early drought gave remarkable concentration. 2024 was a more mellow year, with a balanced sweetness. 2025 already shows great promise — lively, floral, almost musky.
Each cake was cellared in an aging room in Ulaanbaatar, where the dry, cold winters and mild summers slow the transformation. The dark, low-oxygen environment here — quite different from Kunming or Guangzhou — brings out leather and grain notes earlier, while preserving a fresh backbone. These samples arrived in vacuum-sealed foil only hours ago, ready for your gaiwan.
Sitting with them side-by-side, you can almost see the path from bright youth to quiet depth. It’s a journey worth taking slowly.