Tuesday May 4, 2010 | 4 comments
When a shipment of large fresh tea leaves landed at my front door, courtesy of Tea Hawaii’s Eva Lee, my immediate impulse was to infuse them in syrups (equal parts sugar and water boiled until dissolved) and then add citrus peel, berries, spices, what have you. But one look at the leaves, and I changed my mind. They had arrived wrapped in glossy green neat bundles, in pristine condition, with all but the morning mist clinging to them. I simply had to process them to retain their beautiful green color and bold leaf aspect. I failed on the former, but succeeded on the latter goal.
Without benefit of a leaf-rolling machine or a withering system with controlled heat and air flow, I resorted to the low-tech approach. I laid the leaves out on a butcher block surface and using a rolling pin, gently flattened them, releasing their juices slightly in the process. At ten-minute intervals, I repeated the same process twice more, applying more pressure on the now partially flattened leaves. Then I placed the leaves onto a parchment paper-lined sheet pan. Moving further into unknown territory, I left the leaves to oxidize and dry, laying them out in a single layer, leaving space between each leaf. In the temperate air of my kitchen, this 
process took two full days. They had become crisp, brittle, and mottled shades of green and brown, some furled onto themselves, others relatively flat.
Now the moment of truth. I heated purified water to 180 F and dropped a few leaves (about 2.5 grams for each 6 ounces of water) into the pot. After two minutes, I tasted the light brown golden brew. It had the floral aroma and delicate flavor profile of a decent oolong, redolent of a forest after rain, simple but satisfying. Re-extracting the same leaves, I squeezed out one more flavorful cup. Not wanting to give up just yet on the precious leaves, I tried for a third infusion, but the resulting liquor was weak.
What did I gain from this flying-blind experiment? A few good cups of tea and an increased appreciation (read awe) for the art and skill of tea processors and tea blenders, who daily coax an incredible range of flavors from the leaf that has influenced the geopolitical landscape of the world for centuries. Next up: wok-fired leaf, if my source in Hawaii is willing to part with some more of her gorgeous leaves.
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Quite an ingenious method. Very interesting indeed. You are a courageous man to have attempted this process. Keep us posted as to whether the grower will give you another batch to experiment with. Perhaps they’ll even have some suggestions. What do you suppose would happen if you merely tried to steep a few leaves without any processing – like the story of how tea was first discovered when a leaf from a near by tree blew into the pot?
Chef Wemischner, I am 100% with you on being in awe of the art, yes art, of processing and blending. It’s always been my thought that you should leave things to those who are gifted and have spent years learning and perfecting what they do. That’s why we don’t blend many here but simple things like Irish Breakfast and leave the complexities to artisans of blending. Then we choose the best of their best for the store. Oh yes..I’m also in awe of chefs. :)
Robert, I’m so jealous! What fun… i could spend a lot of time experimenting with fresh (Hawaiian?!) tea leaves. Thanks for sharing. What a great educational tool this would make for teaching people the appreciation you said you gleamed for the tea-making process.
Speaking of Hawaiian tea, I understand Samovar in San Francisco is one of the only tea houses serving it as it is very expensive. Do you know the cost/lb?