The everlasting gobstopper is of course the invention of Roald Dahl. It’s his hero, Willy Wonka, who manufactures the boiled sweet that keeps on giving.
Well, everlasting flavour is something that appeals to anyone who’s been stuck with flavour-faded chewing gum. But, sadly, diminution is the way of things in the real world. Let’s call it the curse of osmosis.
It’s natural for people to try and squeeze the last dregs out of something they’ve paid for. And British fiction also has various other characters (mean old misers, mostly) who peg their teabags to the washing line before attempting another brew the next day.
I have tried this myself, and it doesn’t work. Naturally, the teabag gains nothing through the drying. A teabag is only ever good for one and a half infusions. That’s because, despite the paunchy appearance of the bag, the particles within are tiny; they are mere fannings.
It was tea evangelist Henrietta Lovell who likened the teabag to “a cheap strumpet who gives you everything immediately”. I’m glad it was Henrietta Lovell who said this, not a man. Yes, it’s cheeky, but also cleverly memorable.
We’re lucky that not all tea, especially not tea here in China, is hobbled by the surface-area-to-volume ratio of the Crush, Tear, Curl (CTC) [挤压撕裂卷曲] teas prevalent around the world.
Loose leaf tea can be good for many, many pourings of water. And the variety I’m drinking these days offers especially good entertainment. I’ve kept single batches of these leaves going for two consecutive days. Tea lovers, and not just Henrietta Lovell, describe this kind of tea as “patient”.
Let’s call this one a long-long-Dianhong [滇红], because Yunnan is its origin and the flavour is very similar to my favourite everyday red. Made from large leaves normally designated for Pu’er, some of these rolled dried leaves are as long as a human finger. Visually, it almost resembles Ku Ding Cha [苦丁茶] (a bitter non-tea infusion which I quite like).
There’s nothing Pu’er about the flavour; just the warming sweet potato, mango, raw tobacco, slightly floral flavour of a Yunnan red. The flavour rewards the additional patience of being brewed warm and slow, but never gets too malty or bitter, even when stung with hot water.
This is my current World Champion Tea for infusion endurance. But, while examples of camellia sinensis do continue to amaze me, tea is not the best leaf in the world for performing this feat. That Ku Ding Cha mentioned above lasts for longer, as did the (very thin) curry leaves I wrote about last year. And, as you know, bay leaves never give up ever. A new Strainer article about infusions is surely overdue.
Oh, but, just before I leave to join a vegan birthday party this evening, let me sing the praises of pork fat trapped in the teeth. That carnivorous consumption truly is an efficient indulgence, because one tiny piece of parma ham [帕尔马火腿], or chinese cured pork [腊肉], can give pleasure for hours. Chewing the fat is the original gum-that-never-loses-its-flavour.
