The Cups of the 'Black Pearl'

I know, I know. It's got to mid-Febrewary and I've still not managed to tell you all about my January London Tea Club teas. In very truth, my next package has already arrived (so you'd hope by now)! In my defence, so far 2016 has certainly been engaging and not left a great deal of time to write anything up. I also misplaced my tea cards for January's teas, meaning I got halfway through writing this post and then couldn't continue, as I sort of kind of lacked the notes to go along side it.

So today I will be talking about the Black Pearl. It's a type of tea, not a pirate ship. This was one of the two specialist black teas (as opposed to a flavoured black tea) that came in January's box. I suspect it is called Black Pearl because of the visuals of the tea leaves. They're not your usual loose Assam breakfast tea, all ground down to generic nothingness. No, they're quite large, perhaps a half centimetre in diameter, and tightly furled. They looked like tiny pebbles, or perhaps dried up seeds/berries. They are also, unsuprisingly enough, a deep black brown. That's why it's called black tea, yanno. It's quite difficult to get a decent photo of this to share with you (perhaps I am in need of a more specialist camera than just what is attached to my phone), but while not opalescent, it's quite easy to see where the name comes from. The taste (which I shall get to), also suggests a sophisticated name.

I decided to brew the tea in my Taiwanese Eilong tea set. The tea card suggested to brew 'in a gaiwan, tiny teapot or loose in your cup. The leaves unfurl and sink to the bottom - no need for a tea filter or strainer', so I figured a glass pot would be best, so that I could admire the shape and movement of the leaves. It also allowed me to appreciate the colour, without any influence from the pot or cup itself.


Apparently this tea is Indonesian, grown in Sumatra's volcanic soil by Mountain Tea (there is a tea mountain?!). According to the tea card this was 'the first grower approved in 1989 by the Taiwanese government to grow Taiwanese-style tea abroad'.  Before drinking this (for I have never had tea from a volcanic region before!), I'd have anticipated quite a rough, uncomplicated flavour, not so much earthy but very natural, bitter and strong, but in a pleasant and deliberate manner, rather than that of overstewed Assam. I suppose with the destructive nature of a volcano, I had assumed there would be something harsh about the tea.

It was not. This tea could not be further from what I had expected, and the flavour truly threw me. It had the robust flavours of a fine Assam, but the delicate nature of a Jasmine tea. It was light, both in colour and taste, yet had more body than you'd think. There was also a natural sweetness about it; not the artificial sweetness of Love Tea or the indulgent sweetness of Caramel Cream, but more akin to honey or nectar. It was, as I had suspected, very clean, but it was also smooth, rolling across the palate with ease.

I felt like this was the kind of tea you'd drink, while quitely philosophising in opulent Castle gardens during spring.

I was very impressed by this tea. It was truly delectable and one I would gladly have regularly. It's amazing just how different black teas can taste, when you're drinking several different varieties on daily basis. This is definitely going to the top of my favourites list, although I'll admit I feel that it would not satisfy the craving for a good cuppa the way stronger Assams would. Still, it makes a fine mid-day treat when alcohol is not an option.