Tea is life — in every steep, a lesson; in every cup, a practice.
Mangsheqing is a rising micro-region on the edge of Yiwu: deep ravines and dense forest, streams criss-crossing, ancient trees growing along the gorge sides, the mountain vitality especially strong. The name sounds fierce, and fittingly so — tea friends who have entered Mangsheqing know: the forest is deep and the paths slippery, ancient trees and vines grow together, and picking means bending through undergrowth, hard work. Precisely because the ecology is primeval, the mountain vitality of the tea is especially vivid; in recent years the trade has come to regard it as a standard-bearer among Yiwu’s rising regions.
That Anle Hao chose Mangsheqing for its 2023 new tea shows a sharp eye. At the new-tea stage, the aroma is that clean, crisp floral scent of mountain forest; the liquor enters the throat and the mountain vitality surges, bitterness extremely light, the returning sweetness quick — combining the freshness of young tea with the mountain vitality of a micro-region. When I broke this cake open I joked with a tea friend: this tea is like a young man — full of vigour, but well brought up. The refinement of Anle Hao’s craft keeps it fresh without being green, bold without being harsh.
The logic of collecting differs between new tea and old. The 2008 series is for drinking its aged resonance; the 2023 series is for drinking its growth: this year it brews one way, in three years another, in ten yet another — you are buying not only a cake, but a transformation you can watch with your own eyes. In my cellar, young teas have always aged alongside the old; brewing them side by side in future, old and new in conversation — that is one of cellaring’s great pleasures.
For wellness, young raw Pu-erh is livelier in character. My suggested approach: drink it in the afternoon, brewed light and sipped slowly — first-rate for lifting the spirit and clearing the head; friends with sensitive stomachs do better after meals. The mountain vitality of Mangsheqing drinks like a walk through deep mountains — refreshing, the thoughts opened wide. A rising region, a mountain vitality: this cake is a good entry ticket for younger tea friends, and a fine specimen for older ones to watch transformation.
Tea has grades, but no one is barred from the table.
The rise of micro-regions is a major trend of recent years in Yunnan tea: the great mountains speak of heritage; the micro-regions speak of personality. From unknown to named, Mangsheqing’s journey took only a few years — the tea seekers walk ever deeper, and fine terroirs are discovered one by one, like a map slowly being lit up. A trade friend once said Yunnan’s fine teas can never be fully explored. I believe it. That Anle Hao brought Mangsheqing into its 2023 series is exactly that exploring spirit: an old house does not rest on its laurels — every year it goes into the mountains for new leaf, and that is how a two-century name keeps its shine.
For collecting new tea, what I advocate most is the “comparison method”: the same year, several micro-regions cellared side by side; or the same region, several years side by side — then when the time comes, brew and compare, and the mountain’s character and the ageing curve are laid bare. I have already made my plan: of this Mangsheqing batch, open one cake at three years, one at seven, one at ten — watching it turn from green to mellow with your own eyes, like watching a young person grow through school. That sense of participation is a blessing only cellaring new tea can give.
Young tea friends often ask: budget is limited — chase old tea or collect new? My answer has always been: begin with new tea, and grow with it. The entry threshold is friendly; spend a few years accompanying its transformation and training your tongue — by the time you can tell good old tea from bad, you are already half an expert. The Anle Hao 2023 series is prepared for exactly such friends: fair price, clear source, honest craft. A stepping stone into the game should stand firm.
Fierce as its name sounds, Mangsheqing’s tea is unexpectedly gentle: strong mountain vitality without harshness, very low bitterness for a new tea — a rare combination in a young region. I suspect the ecology: giant trees shade the gorge, stream-mist moistens year-round, and the trees slowly accumulate sweetness in the cool. Nature never hurries; all good things are raised slowly. When you drink Mangsheqing, remember that slowness.
Friends through tea — please, join the cup.
Author: LamSam (老茶頭·林燊)
ZENTEA MANOR 禪茶莊園
天盈供應鏈公司
www.zentea-shop.com
