But there’s something about fall that can make me crave tea. Generally, I go to Goldfish Tea in Royal Oak, which has a superb selection of teas they import from China. But I was in the mood for some robust, sturdy, English tea time type of stuff — so I recently put in a sizable order with Upton Tea Importers out of Massachusetts.

These three in particular have been real treats:

Margaret’s Hope Estate, 1st Flush 2011 Darjeeling FTGFOP1
I’m hardly an expert on tea, but I’ve been drinking it for quite a while, and one of the reasons I love Darjeeling is the wide variation in production methods and the willingness to ignore the obvious, commodity-based classifications for tea. That is to say, it’s not “green” or “black” or “oolong.” In fact, I’d guess most people think of Darjeeling as black, but it’s arguably closer to oolong.

This particular tea is somewhere in the green/oolong range. Wiry, twisted, green leaves are interspersed with darker leaves and ample silvery, fuzzy tips. Even just from its “tippy” appearance, it’s clear that this is top shelf stuff.

The leaves have a bit of a raw, grassy aroma, but far more so, they’re quite sweet-smelling – a bit like dried hibiscus or cracked rose hips.

Different estates have different characteristics, of course, as the elevation, temperature, weather, and sun exposure are different (not to mention the processing methods). I’d never had a Margaret’s Hope estate tea before, and I can’t speak to the unique characteristics of this 1st flush (which refers to softer teas harvested in March rather than the more widely known teas from the June season) versus another estate’s – but this is really very lovely stuff.

The nose is youthful and green with a delicate redolence, like sugar syrup and flowers. On the palate, it’s similarly refined with a tropical flavor. Upton suggests “pineapple” as a descriptor, but more so, it’s this vague impression of refreshment despite sweetness. At $33 per 80g, this is not something any random tea drinker might want to purchase on a whim. But anyone who wants to really explore the wide range of flavors that tea can have should consider trying something like this. It displays very particular, elegant flavors that only Darjeeling is capable of producing.

Lavender Earl Grey
Whoever came up with the idea to blend Earl Grey tea with lavender is a genius. Traditional Earl Grey, of course, is a loose leaf black tea (It could be from China or India; I think most tea lovers believe that the first black tea base for Earl Grey came from China, but modern producers make no distinction) that is blended with Bergamot. The oils are extracted from that Asian citrus fruit and added to the tea, which lends both flavor and especially aroma.

Anyone who’s had real leaf Earl Grey with natural Bergamot rather than bagged tea or something flavored with synthetic oils knows that the citrus lends a powerful nose to the dry leaf as well as to the cup.

So I had my doubts as to whether or not a similarly dominant aromatic like lavender would work with Bergamot. But Upton Tea knows their shit, and one of the reviewers – who often also know their shit – commented specifically about the lavender being a surprisingly pleasant addition.

As it turns out, that was a bit of an understatement.

This is arguably my favorite scented tea ever. Granted, I’m a bit of a lavender slut (OK perhaps “fiend” or “lover” would have been a more appropriate word), but the floral nose of the dry leaf is intoxicating and the aromatics in the brewed cup are nice and subtle. There are bits of dried lavender throughout, a style similar to a rose Chun Mee where the rose petals are still blended in with the tea leaves.

Obviously, this works exceptionally well with just a touch of milk, and one could sweeten it if they were so inclined, but even after accidentally over-brewing it once, I didn’t find this terribly astringent or tannic at all. It’s quite drinkable, and the lavender flavor seems to blend together with the Bergamot a bit. It never smells or tastes like perfume, which can be off-putting. A great cup of tea all around and pretty much dirt cheap at $7.80/125 grams.

Sungma Estate 2nd Flush, Darjeeling SFTGFOP1
“Muscatel” is a common descriptor for Darjeeling, though it’s always seemed to me to be more of a feeling or a vague notion than a concrete flavor. The idea is that it tastes like old muscat-based wines with kind of a fruit forward flavor combined with a muskiness. It’s hard to describe, and it’s a perfect illustration of why wine media personalities started using terms like “blackberry” or “strawberry” instead of words like “masculine” or “feminine.” The latter means very little unless you’ve had enough wine to get the notion of big and burly wines rather than pretty and elegant wines.

Muscatel seems to me to be a similar descriptor. But if you want to learn what it tastes like, buy this tea. There’s a sweet, watery fruit flavor reminiscent of grapes and a dusty, mildly astringent tannic flavor in the finish. (I may have overbrewed this just a touch most recently because I recall from my last cupping of this that there should be more fruit.)

Either way, this is a fun, very drinkable, very tasty tea – a “2nd flush” (picked in June, oxidized to something closer to a black tea) – that perfectly represents what most people consider to be quintessential Darjeeling.

From the mountains of Qimen County in the Anhui province of eastern China comes a black tea comparable to the famous Darjeeling. Keemun (the English spelling of Qimen during the colonial era) is the name. Hao Ya A (Downy Buds Grade A) is the highest grade possible and the tea you want in your cup. The tiny black leaves with golden buds produce aromas and flavors that have been described as floral, port wine, pine smoke, biscuits and orchard fruits, in other words, complex. It makes a kick-ass iced tea, too.

Known to embody the essence of Taiwan’s mountains and rivers, Dongding oolong tea immediately engages with a nose of sultry blooms, mown grass and water crackers. Grown in Nantou County of central Taiwan, Dongding is the most popular tea on the island. Only partially oxidized and lightly roasted, the tight, curled leaves expand several times and last through numerous steepings. A cup is clear, pale yellow touched by green. A full and gently sweet body belies its delicate appearance. It makes a fine, balanced iced tea.

Black tea from the Fujian province on the southeast coast of China, Lapsang Souchong is one of the more unique teas you’ll ever come across. Dried in bamboo baskets over burning conifer, it is redolent of sap and smoky campfires. These aromas combined with the sweet and tangy liquor create a sip reminiscent of the wet decay of a cedar forest. A quality Lapsang Souchong is a transcendent drink for those of us captivated by all things smoked. Drinkers into highly-peated Scotch should dig it. It’s also handy in the kitchen for flavoring everything from vegetarian stew to oven-baked ribs.

Since the Eastern Han Dynasty the Chinese have been taking broad leaf tea from around the southwestern province of Yunnan, fermenting it and then compressing it into bricks or cakes. The finished product can be drunk immediately but if made well it can mature into a dark, mellow and unique tea fragrant with dried fruit, mushrooms, camphor and flowers. As with wine, only finely made and properly stored pu-erh teas will improve with age and increase in value.

To sample and learn about high quality tea in a relaxing atmosphere, check out Goldfish Tea in Royal Oak.

Unusually large, the leaves of Great Green Monkey — also called Great Green Monkey King or Tai Ping Hou Kui — almost look more like dried crab grass clippings than tea leaves. It gives off a very immediate but pleasant sweet, vegetal aroma from the moment the water hits it, and it’s surprisingly full-bodied for such a pale-colored tea.

While the leaf is large, the flavor is not. Instead, it’s remarkably subtle — a bit sweet with little bitterness even if over-steeped.

The unusually flat leaf is apparently produced when the producer presses the leaf between two pieces of cloth or paper, and there’s a great deal more historical and production information available at Chinese Tea Culture.

I saved the to-go bag and re-steeped the leaves this morning to similar effect.  It makes a delicious cup that, given its mild flavor and heavier body, seems like a perfect morning or afternoon tea over which to meditate on and hope for the coming of spring.

That was my first introduction to Lab Cafe. Today, I decided on a whim to give it a more thoughtful visit.

A “friend” of the cafe standing on my side of the counter — a regular customer or off-hours employee, I’d guess — recommended a zucchini muffin. I asked where it was from, and the gentleman behind the register, Toby, replied that it was from a bakery in Kerrytown affiliated with Sparrow Market. Anticipating my next question, he followed with, “I don’t know exactly what’s in it; they keep it a secret. But it’s really quite good, and we get them fresh every morning.” The long strands of green vegetable protruding from the top indicated he was telling the truth, and the giant orange hunks of carrot embedded in the cake made by the same folks counted as a second “yea” vote in my mind.

The poured me a chai as well, which was spicier than some and less sweet than most. And I asked about the yogurt. He claimed that they made it there every day, “Well except for the milk. We don’t have cows, of course.” Having just had some less-than-natural yogurt at another place in town, I pressed him a bit and he also commented that the yogurt is sweetened only with pure sugar, no syrups or additives. I tried the four flavors — taro, honeydew, chocolate, and original — and all were delicious, especially the taro.

They serve Intelligentsia coffee, which had previously been favorably described to me by Gourmet Underground member and Great Lakes Coffee roastmaster, James Cadariu. I’m not a coffee drinker, so I can’t comment yet as to the quality of their work, but if the other products are any indication, I’m sure it’s marvelous.

Walking into the cafe is a bit like stepping out of the midwest — very minimalistic industrial design with plywood chairs, bright green accents, white countertops, and short movie clips projected over the wall where the typical Starbucks customer may be looking for a menu. But it’s nonetheless quite warm-feeling. The menus are adorned with instructional clip art (a little outlined French Press for coffee, et cetera) that I’m positive my wife would find adorable, and the floor-to-ceiling windows allow for a ton of natural light.

Coffee, tea, and yogurt cafes ranging from relatively full-service operations like Lab to tiny stands that are little more than closets with self-serve yogurt handles have been a “thing” in a number of cities, especially in places along the California coast, for a while now. So despite the experimental name, Lab is just an extension of that age-old rule that everything reaches the midwest 3-8 years after it hits the coasts.

But regardless, for those of us who work or live in Ann Arbor, it’s a nice mid-day treat, and for other Michiganders looking to occupy a Saturday, Lab might fit nicely into a stroll through the U-M Museum of Art and around the streets of Ann Arbor.

It’s one of the newer tea selections available at Goldfish Tea in Royal Oak. As the absolute pinnacle of what the Detroit area has to offer in terms of tea, Goldfish specializes in Chinese teas. While their extensive menu is generally static, they occasionally have something new and/or truly special that comes through their shop by virtue, I suspect, of their direct importing arrangement.

So today, I’m sitting in Goldfish with my laptop, drinking a tea called “Crab Leg.” The name fits: The leaves are narrow and long, punctuated every several millimeters or so with a joint- or knuckle-like bulbous ridge. There’s a faint mushroom quality to the aroma of the moistened leaves, which gives the impression of a puer-style tea. But its golden, medium-brown color hints at more of a robust oolong treatment, as it is indeed labeled at the tea shop. And its flavor, equal parts medicinal, buttery, and earthy, leaves me fairly dumbfounded.

After a bit of research, it appears that several online retailers qualify Crab Leg (or”char yong”) as puer but offer little detail in support of that. Puer can be tricky to classify, of course, in that its green/raw form is so very different from its richer, earthier post-fermentation “big brother.” If I were to reach into my bag of over-used diagramming tools and pull out a simple Venn diagram, I’d say that Crab Leg tea falls in the middle of an overlap between raw puer, fermented puer, and an oolong.

It’s fascinating stuff — almost as fascinating as the salon job interviews some hair stylists from the next shop over are conducted a few tables over. Give it a try. The tea. Not the salon gig. Unless you’ve been to beauty school and love the word “like.”

It starts with a contrasting sweet and tart fruit flavor, something like unripe apple or green mango without the rawness. Eventually, a wave of freshly mown grass and cut herbs washes through. With the herb you’re expecting a bitter aftertaste but it’s quite the opposite, finishing slightly tart, maybe even a bit soft, even more drinkable than you would expect given the wholesome ingredients.

Ingredients like Klamath blue green algae. Klamath Blue Green Algae is a wild, fresh water algae growing in natural abundance in Upper Klamath Lake, east of the Cascade Mountains in Southern Oregon. The mineral-rich volcanic soil that’s deposited into the alkaline waters is the perfect growth medium to produce the nutrient dense algae containing glyco-proteins, vitamins, minerals, simple carbohydrates, lipids and biologically active enzymes.

Other algae found in Multi-green are Spirulina, a food source of the Aztecs and people of 9th Century Kanem Empire near Lake Chad, and the simple green Chlorella.

Studies suggest that all of these extra ingredients have the ability to reduce high blood pressure, lower serum cholesterol levels, accelerate wound healing, enhance immune functions and help aid dioxin detoxification. Add all this to the goodness already present in kombucha and you might as well be drinking from the fountain of youth.* Never mind the color. Hell, we know people that won’t eat guacamole because of the way it looks.

*No clinical studies have proven that drinking GT’s Multi-green will turn you immortal, though you are guaranteed to get strange looks in the cafeteria. Not recommended for zombies.

It’ll last up to three or four steepings and proceeds go to support the non-profit Zen Center. They offer a total of four grades of various quality and price and even throw this fun how-to pamphlet in the bag.

1. Use a fine grade tea: Though I only have anecdotal evidence to support this, using a good, loose-leaf tea has worked amazingly well. Bagged tea always seems to take longer to ferment. Does this mean there are more nutrients in a quality loose-leaf? Perhaps. I like oolong best. The flavor is milder than black tea and it makes for a lighter, better looking product.

2. Be consistent: Though the type of tea might change, I use the same formula for every batch. Each three liter batch will yield…Read the rest of this article at Total Kombucha

Then tea got trendy.

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Florida isn’t a place I generally like to spend my time, and it’s the last place I think of when I imagine sipping on a hot, fresh cup of tea. But when work took me to Orlando, away from my sizeable office stash of loose leaf, I needed a delicious cup despite the heat. The hotel, better than most, stocked Mighty Leaf-brand tea in pounches. Earl Grey, English Breakfast, Mint Verbena, and Orchid Oolong, among others.

Described on the box as being sweet and floral and presented in one of those pretty, roomy silken bags, the tea nearly moved me to sue for false advertising since it tasted more like Australian Shiraz than tea. Oolongs dried with blossoms still retain true tea flavor and usually have a light, natural sweetness and autumn leaf aroma from the flowers. Actual steeped flowers or sweet herbs can have sweetness, but again, there’s an inherent natural depth. But this Orchid “Oolong” reeked of bubble gum and tasted like tropical fruit, suntan lotion, and pina colada.

Why ruin a good thing? Keep the silken bags, the overpriced boxes, the fancy packaging, the cheesy name, and the consultant-driven marketing plan. No problem. But why concentrate some quasi-natural orchid flavor and soak an oolong tea in it to the point it’s more reminiscent of fruit punch than a quality cup?

The straight black and green teas weren’t bad, but whether I’m in a steamy southern state or staying warm in Detroit, I’ll be avoiding the Orchid Oolong in the future.