The purple clay Wang Zhaojun teapot is long and slender, its shape reminiscent of the pipa so closely associated with her. The handle is slightly notched, to mimic the tailpiece where the strings are anchored near the bottom of the instrument.It is the only teapot whose lid is not crowned with a knob, but with a half-ring - the top of the pipa is usually a loop or a lingzhi shaped adornment, decorated further by carvings or a jade piece.  The teapot sits squarely and firmly, well-grounded in comparison to the small-bottomed Yang Guifei teapot, or the almost-floating Diaochan teapot.

The base of the teapot holds a surprise: Three parallel bars are engraved around the seal of the maker, creating the “strings” for this clay pipa. The top-down view does not do the teapot sufficient justice, as it looks slightly tear-dropped shaped only. In fact, there are two very faint indentations on either side of the teapot. I am not entirely sure why the indentations are there, but it could be to imitate the ripple-like frets that are at the top of the pipa. Like the other teapots, it is surprisingly light for its size, and its generous spout is very fitting with the overall design, as its lines are very strong throughout.

As Diaochan is somewhat a cipher in history, I find the teapot named after her somewhat puzzling too. Of the four teapots, the grey clay Diaochan teapot is the heaviest and most angular. From certain angles, it has a light grace, seeming to float a little off the surface of the table, and its notched ear hints at feminine curves . But from other angles, it seems squat and awkward, perhaps to hark back to Diaochan’s humble origins; she was a peasant, supposedly nameless, until sold into Wang Yun’s household. On the other hand, she had seduced both Dong Zhuo and Lü Bu with her dancing, her singing and music playing, so she could not have been too clumsy a girl. My friend A. speculated that the grey clay and squatness hint at the animalistic qualities of her name, lending a primeval and primitive air to the teapot.

There are 2 qualities of the teapot that I love, though; it is the smoothest of the four, as it feels like a river-worn stone, and the grey hues make it resemble a natural object even more. The other is that despite its angularity, it sits very comfortably in the hand. The handle is generously large enough and the wide lid allows for a relaxed hold. It feels robust enough that I do not fear breaking it if I held it too tight, as I do the other teapots, although I do not quite consider that a point in its favour; after all, it is named after a graceful dancer, and should have a certain level of delicacy to it. Nonetheless, its somewhat contradictory qualities make it stand out, and it is worthy of the equivocal lady herself. 

云想衣裳花想容， 春风拂槛露华浓。
Clouds remind me of her garments, flowers bring to mind her face; the spring wind brushes past to reveal a luscious bloom.
若非群玉山头见， 会向瑶台月下逢。
If I had not encountered her at the peaks of the Jade Mountain*, it must be beneath the Jade Platform one moonlit night^ we met.

(Apologies for mangling the great poet; I attempted as literal a translation as possible).

The teapot from the side looks like a stylised cloud, as one might see in classical Chinese paintings, or Chinese religious carvings. From the top, it resembles a flower in bloom, perhaps the peony, a flower often associated with royalty, and in its plumpness, with the zaftig Yang Guifei.

The teapot is made of zisha tinted to resemble red clay, and the surface is smooth but with very fine bumps, uncannily like human skin. The “roof-beam” handle is a little short for bigger hands, but just right for smaller ones; obviously this is a pot made for women. The pot is round and plump, but tapers down with a dancer’s grace at the base; Yang Guifei was known to be a skilled dancer. The side view is also reminiscent of a dancer’s upper body, one arm (the spout) stretched out, one arm (the handle) curved slightly towards the head. Despite the small base, the pot is very well-balanced, possibly because the generous spout and upswung handle provide adequate counter-weights. Despite its fairly large volume, the pot is very light, which means the walls of the pot are made very, very thin.

*The Jade Mountain is a real location in Taiwan, but in this poem actually means a mountain in the celestial realm (Chinese Heaven, one might say).
^The word 瑶 yáo means a type of precious jade, whereas the word for Jade Mountain 玉 yǜ is a more generic term. The Jade Platform refers to another celestial abode, a terrace or tower, and as evinced by the name, is made of or decorated with countless precious jewels.

Most green teas sold in the West are heavily flavoured with fruit or flower, largely with the intention of masking the smell of the tea. If you are used to drinking black tea, then the savoury, meaty taste of green tea is startling and may put you off.

Chinese green tea and Japanese green tea are different beasts. They are similar in that heat is applied very early in processing to stop enzymes from breaking down the phenolic compounds in tea (the all-important anti-oxidant bit). In Chinese tea, the heat is applied in a hot metal pan (much like a wok), which removes some of the colour and imparts a savoury fragrance very reminiscent of meat (which comes from pyrazines and pyrroles). In Japanese tea, the heat is applied as steam, which preserves much of the grassy taste of the leaves, allows it to retain a fresh green colour even when dried, and is also responsible for the distinctive seaweed flavour of Japanese green tea (dimethyl sulphide).

Tea contains a unique amino acid called theanine, which is able to cross into the brain and produce feelings of relaxation and improve cognition. Some of it breaks down to glutamic acid, which is a flavour enhancer. Tea also contains guanosine monophosphate and inosine monophosphate, which are both flavour enhancers as well, and serve to further intensify the savoury taste of green tea.

Lu K, Gray M, Oliver C, Liley D, Harrison B, Bartholomeusz C, Phan K, Nathan P (2004). “The acute effects of L-theanine in comparison with alprazolam on anticipatory anxiety in humans”. Hum Psychopharmacol 19 (7): 457–65. doi:10.1002/hup.611. PMID 15378679.
Haskell CF, Kennedy DO, Milne AL, Wesnes KA, Scholey AB (2008). “The effects of l-theanine, caffeine and their combination on cognition and mood”. Biol Psychol 77 (2): 113–22.

Alas, by the time I could afford to buy teapots, none of the tea-houses I frequented stocked any more of the pots. However, a new set, entirely different from the Sacred Beasts set, captured my attention. Where the Sacred Beasts were hefty, these were remarkably light, though they were not small for clay teapots. Where the Sacred Beasts were almost starkly masculine in their strong lines and fairly angular designs, these were all curves, reminiscent of flowers, clouds, sashes and musical instruments.

The Four Beauties have been mentioned more than once in this blog, especially in the entry on Lychee tea. The Four Beauties set are four light, curvaceous, vivacious teapots, each named for one of the Four Beauties of ancient China.

In my next few entries, I will talk about the four Beauties in more detail. 

In 1904, Thomas Sullivan, a New York tea merchant, began sending his customers samples of tea in small hand-sewn silk bags, some of whom mistakenly assumed that the entire bag ought to be immersed in hot water instead of first removing the leaves to be used in the usual manner. Following complaints that the weave of the silk was too fine, Mr Sullivan began issuing (cheaper) bags made of gauze instead. Thus was born the tea bag.

While tea bags were popular in the US before the war, the British were far less enthusiastic, and tea bags were only introduced to Britain in 1953 by Tetley’s (the Yorkshire tea merchants).  The convenience of the tea bag is its main selling point, and today, more than 95% of all tea sold in Britain is sold in bags.

There is nothing intrinsically wrong with tea bags per se. The main complaints are that bags which are too small do not allow the leaves inside to expand (an easily rectified problem), or that paper alters the taste of the tea (Teapigs use plastic mesh instead). However, the cardinal sin of tea bags is really that they permit manufacturers to sell to Joe Public enormous quantities of vile cheap tea powder (or “warehouse sweepings”, also known as cut-tear-curl tea), where the leaf fragments are too small to use in a tea pot and would otherwise be unusable and unsalable.