Dark teas from the land of the dragon

Almost four years had passed since my last trip to Vietnam. A few weeks earlier, the government announced that it was opening the borders. The opportunity was too good, and with so many reasons to go, I bought my ticket.

By Léo Perrin

Visiting a country is an experience; returning there is another. What a pleasure to slip back into old habits, to return to places one has been to before, to see the changes, rediscover the smells, colours and sounds, all the constants that make up the country’s identity. After a few days wandering around Hanoi surrounded by the opulent aromas of lotus flowers and the buzz of mopeds, spending time talking to sellers on the tea stalls, I met up with my friend Nam and together we set out on a six-hour journey to Cao Bo.

Returning to Cao Bo

Nam Lê is one of the directors of the large tea factory at Cao Bo. Cao Bo lies in the extreme north of the country, near Hà Giang, not far from the Chinese border. Vietnam’s finest Pu Erh teas have been produced here for more than 50 years. For a long time, the factory worked with Hong Kong, sending its fine teas directly to the former British colony. These teas were stored in cellars with humid atmospheres where they developed their deep aromas of humus and incense. It was only at the end of the 1990s that these teas began travelling to new destinations, including France.

The factory works with some 20 villages which harvest leaves on remote mountainsides. The tea plants there are the Shan Tuyet variety and look like nothing else on earth. Forget the orderly gardens where the bushes are all picked to hip height and are grown in long rows that follow the contours of the valley. Here, the tea plants are trees, and the smallest ones are almost two metres high. They have solid, thick trunks and are spaced at random, either growing wild in dense forests or more sparsely, mixed in with other local crops. These are ancient trees that continue to be shaped by time.

At last, we reached this place I am so fond of. Four years ago, I stayed here with Nam for a month and he taught me the secrets of Pu Erh fermentation. The same people were there, with the same smiles, surrounded by the same smells of tea slowly fermenting under tarpaulins.

We greeted each other warmly, then it grew late and dinner was served. What a feast! I enjoyed delicious tiê ´ t canh soup made from freshly coagulated ducks’ blood, as well as carp sashimi and, of course, bamboo rat, which went pretty well with the Alsace wine I brought them. It was an interesting pairing of Gewürztraminer and rodent...

The next morning after a short sleep, a tea tasting session awaited me. In the tasting room, a series of cups provided an uninterrupted flow of infusions, all wonderful. I liked the depth of buckwheat notes of some Pu Erh Shus, as well as their roundness and irresistible sweetness. I enjoyed trying to control the wild astringency of their green teas. Passing time affects the teas’ notes, which evolve over the years. I was amazed by the changes that time had wrought on the aromas of a Mao Cha between 2017 and this year, by the subtle mushroom smell emerging from the leaves of a slightly older tea cake… When it’s done well, Pu Erh, like wine, improves with age, and the fragrances that result from this passage of time are glorious and unparalleled.

Amethyst buds

Among these teas, one stood out. A young Mao Cha from last year caught my attention with its incredible fruity notes that reminded me of gentian and green papaya. I asked Nam what makes this highly aromatic tea so unique. “The leaves come from a village we’ve been working with since last year. We can go there if you want, it’s next door.” After two and a half hours crossing rivers on scooters and falling off every hundred metres or so, the concept of “next door” became increasingly vague. At last, the focus of our quest gradually appeared through the thick fluffy mist, and I spotted the first camellias. “Here we are, these are the first tea bushes of the village,” Nam said.

At this point, I started to notice the very special aromas of the tea that had originally caught my attention. These tea trees with their massive trunks, most centuries old, all have a unique genetic trait, and for some unknown reason there are many of them in this village. They have purple leaves! This characteristic is often found in ancient tea trees which, over time, develop more anthocyanins in their leaves, darkening them and sometimes turning them a deep purple. The high numbers of anthocyanins* influence the aromatic particles of the leaves and bring a specific fruity quality to the tea.

The coveted jewels were finally within sight: beautiful amethyst buds. These magnificent tea trees gave me much food for thought. If this terroir is so good for Mao Cha, what would it be like for black tea? Or white? Or any other tea colour that camellias can produce? I concluded my visit by allowing these ideas to infuse in the creative mind of my friend Nam.

The Vietnamese revival

Next, I head to Ta Thàng, in Lào Cai province. It took more than nine hours to reach a new producer I’d heard about during my few days in Hanoi. We made a short stop in the city of Lào Cai where the atmosphere is very different from Cao Bo. Here, the architecture seemed more Chinese, which is no surprise given that the town, located on the Red River, is one of the border crossings with Yunnan.

The proximity to China plays an important role in the local tea market. Many Chinese traders cross the border to buy Mao Cha at low cost from the different Vietnamese peoples and resell it under a Chinese name at a much higher price.

*Anthocyanins are a natural colouring ranging from orange-red to purple-blue.

Northern Vietnam has rugged mountainous landscapes covered with lush vegetation and steeply sloping tea plantations.

In recent years, a radical change has taken place among these Vietnamese farmers who are starting to refuse to sell to the Chinese and instead want their teas to contribute to the reputation of their own country. This is a healthier and more transparent approach that guarantees the Vietnamese origin of the teas.

I met up with Tuãn Phan who is in charge of producing tea in Ta Thàng. Together, we set out for the final hour’s drive to get to the place he spoke so highly of. It was my first time in these mountains, and the higher altitudes offer up new landscapes. Large blue lakes surround the mountains, which are sparsely strewn with conifers. There’s a touch of Bavaria about it and only the presence of the pretty Hmong houses gives away the location.

The secrets of centuries-old tea trees

At the end of the road is the Ta Thàng factory, established only three years ago. In 2019, one of the current managers, Nguyen Van Linh, visited the region with a group of friends with no intention of starting a business there. But he fell under the spell of Ta Thàng and its community, and the group of friends decided to embark on a project there to support the village.

Attracted by the vast forests of ancient tea trees abandoned by the Hmong for several centuries, and knowing the trees’ potential, they revived tea production.

Situated at more than 200 metres above sea level, the Cao Bo factory has been producing exceptional teas for several years. In this valley where wild tea trees grow between lakes and conifers, some delicious black and white teas are produced. Each ethnic group has a different relationship with the land. Here, the Hmong people pick leaves from centuries-old tea trees. The producer Tuãn Phan is proud of this factory, set up just three years ago by a group of friends who fell in love with Ta Thàng and its community.

I was welcomed there by the light of a beautiful full moon. Tuãn gave me a tour of the factory, where black tea was slowly oxidising on woven bamboo racks and where white tea buds were drying slowly. The place had a wonderfully peaceful atmosphere. The workers, who are so often talkative, were quiet here, focused on their task. Tuãn sees tea production as an active meditation, which requires being fully present to obtain exactly the right results. The next day, we set off to see the famous tea forest where their finest teas come from. The Shan Tuyet trees are all at least two hundred years old. Some measure several tens of metres and I can’t resist picking a few leaves off them. Beneath these great trees, buffalo watch us, like guardians of this almost sacred place. While tasting some of the precious leaves, processed that same day, I asked Tuãn the same question I ask all producers I meet around the world: “What is the secret of a good tea?” Between two sticks of smoking incense, I watched him move his hands over the tea and close his eyes. He stayed that way for several minutes. “I give tea my energy,” he explained.

I’m not sure that “energy” plays a role in the taste of his tea but this one is, without a doubt, one of the finest in Vietnam. •