A few months ago at the Muzha Tieguanyin Competition, the staff introduced me to a farmer who’s particularly known for producing Zhengcong Tieguanyin (Tieguanyin produced from the original cultivar, Hongxin Wai Wei Tao).
I’ve continued to be interested in the distinction between different kinds of Tieguanyin in Muzha, so the other week I went up to Maokong to have tea with him.
He’s been growing tea his entire life, and learned the trade from his father who farmed the same land before him. He told me that in his father’s day, they used to grow a lot of Wuyi and Sijichun (in addition to Hongxin Wai Wei Tao), all for Tieguanyin production. He no longer grows Wuyi though, because it’s harder to ball-roll to the degree Tieguanyin customers expect. And that while he does still grow some Sijichun, he doesn’t use it for Tieguanyin — that Sijichun has been falling out of favor amongst Tieguanyin producers in recent years.
So for his current Tieguanyin production, he grows Hongxin Wai Wei Tao and Jinxuan. He explained that Hongxin Wai Wei Tao is particularly difficult to grow, because the plants only live for about 8 years. And you can’t just replant them right away in the same soil — if you do, they’ll die within a year or two. So you have to alternate fields, and grow other crops like bamboo shoots in the intervening seasons. With Jinxuan, this type of crop rotation isn’t as necessary.
We drank three Tieguanyins he had submitted to the competition this past spring. One was a Zhengcong Tieguanyin, and the other two were Jinxuan. One of the Jinxuans placed in the lowest-ranking category (youliang) and the other two, including the Zhengcong Tieguanyin, were rejected outright.
The rejected Zhengcong was, to my tastes, by far the best. It had good texture and throat feel, a well balanced flavor, and the best longevity. The rejected Jinxuan was much brighter and had a type of acidic aftertaste I found undesirable. It wasn’t bad, but just lacked the depth and complexity of the Zhengcong. The other Jinxuan, the one that was awarded in the competition, was noticeably lighter and more fragrant than the other two. It sort of felt like it should belong in a different genre of tea. I personally felt it was the least interesting of the three.
As we drank and as he watched this realization come over me, he kinda smirked and commented that which teas win at the competition is somewhat random. And that it depends greatly on the tastes of the judges.
He mentioned that new judges came in a few years ago, and that their tastes are different from the previous judges. They value teas that are lighter and more fragrance-forward — a notable departure from the traditional interpretation of Tieguanyin in Muzha. However, because of how influential the competition is, he has begun to produce more teas that cater to these tastes. Which is to say, he is doing a lighter roast with more of his production.
He wasn’t trying to disparage the competition at all, he’s fully supportive of it. It basically helps him to make more money, by promoting the Muzha tea industry and also by setting prices at a pretty high level for any of his teas that receive an award. These teas, even if they only place in the lowest award category, sell out every year, just by the prestige of being competition-recognized.
It does make you wonder how these competitions affect the trajectory of the industry though. He told me he continues to grow Zhengcong Tieguanyin because he has longtime loyal customers who request it. But over time, will this customer base begin to dwindle? Perhaps this is just the typical ebb and flow of tea tradition across generations. But it does feel like this trend towards such greener teas is something significant that is not about to go away — all around Taiwan, this has been happening for more than twenty years now. I do wonder if the more traditional heavier-roast style Zhengcong Tieguanyin is just going to become increasingly niche, and increasingly more expensive. I certainly hope not.
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