From Jingmai’s protected forests — a sheng built for the cellar
I walked the Jingmai gardens in late March 2025, just as the first flush of buds pushed through the canopy. These trees — many over a century old — grow scattered across the mountain’s UNESCO-protected forests, shaded by camphor and wild orchid. The air was thick with the scent of wet earth and blossoms. I sourced this lot from a smallholder cooperative that still hand-picks by the traditional standard of one bud and two leaves, then pan-fires in wood-fueled woks before rolling and sun-drying on bamboo mats. The result is a maocha with a clear, bright energy and a structure that I recognized immediately: honeyed top notes, mineral depth, and that unmistakable Jingmai cooling finish.
This is a sheng I’ll watch over the decades. The 2025 spring cake has the kind of tight, resilient compression that lets it mature slowly — developing leather, camphor, and dried fruit notes without losing its vibrant high tones. It’s a tea that bridges worlds: the ancient tea forests of Yunnan, the nomadic tea routes north through Mongolia, and the careful stillness of a cellar. I pressed it into 357g cakes in April, and now I’m offering a small number from that batch. Brew it today for the floral lift, or tuck it away and let time add its own chapters.