Spring dawn in Mansa: a search for quiet elegance
In the last days of March 2025, the overgrown tea gardens of Mansa were walked, a cluster of ancient villages in the eastern folds of the Yiwu mountains. Here, at 1250 meters, the trees are old but scattered among wild underbrush — less manicured than the more famous Mahei, and producing a leaf with a distinctly quieter personality.
Mansa has drawn us back each spring since 2018, less by commercial volume than by the meditative quality of its sheng. This year, a cooperative of three Tai Lue families agreed to supply their finest pickings: buds and the first two leaves, harvested in the cool of dawn and carried down the hill in bamboo baskets before the sun grew high.
Processing took place in a small family workshop. Withering under bamboo shade, a quick high-heat kill-green to preserve floral notes, careful hand-rolling, and a long sun-drying on rattan mats. The maocha rested for a month before being steamed and pressed into 357 gram cakes using stone moulds. No harsh compression — the leaves remain whole enough to unfurl beautifully.
The greatest sheng is made with patience. This Mansa cake reflects that: a young tea that already carries the breath of the forest, and will age with deep, soft dignity over decades.