Born of leaf, clay and ritual
Artisans balance heat, water and skill to revive age-old tea traditions and re-create Song-era ceramic masterpieces, Yang Feiyue and Hu Meidong report in Nanping, Fujian.
The phrase lingers in my mind. In the rhythmic motion of his hands, I think about man and nature, as well as a balance between control and surrender.
The scent of tea gets sharper as we enter the sha qing (killing the green) room, where an array of woks tilted at a 45-degree angle is on display. This is where the unique semi-fermented character of Wuyi rock tea is fixed.
The temperature soars over 220 C and the challenge is to know the fire.
"You can't touch it directly, or your skin will blister," Huang says, laughing lightly.
"Too fierce, and the tea burns; too gentle, and it lacks spirit."
The loose, flat leaves emerge softer and more pliable. While still warm, they are moved to a bamboo tray etched with a crosshatching pattern, ready for rolling. Here, the leaves are kneaded into tight, dark strips.
"Once roasted, these strips will look like little dragons. This is why it's called oolong (black dragon) tea," he says.
