Golden Monkey tea is, according to the good people at Tao of Tea, is a high-grade mountain grown tea. The “monkey” moniker comes from the fuzz on the long, lush leaves, not from being plucked by a primate. Monkey-picked tea is verifiable, but appears to be a whole ‘nother variety and a whole ‘nother story.

At any rate, the bushy, blond leaves are a treat to see and smell; and even more so to taste. Simply because I expected this to be a great tea and wanted to stretch the lifespan of my sample (note to tea newbies: gold or golden tips are a near-guarantee your tea is going to be excellent!) I was a little light on the leaf in my two-cup pot. Even so, the steeped results were great: color–burnished gold; fragrance–perfectly done toast; flavor similarity–perfectly done wheat toast with a drop of fresh honey. This Golden Monkey has some heft to it; feels good and thick on your tongue and continues to roast and toast you after you swallow.

Benjamin Franklin is credited for saying that “Beer is proof that God loves us and wants us to be happy.” I’ll forgive him that notion–after all, thanks to good King George, decent tea wasn’t to be had in the colonies. But I think that Ben might recant his words and turn teetotaler if we could serve him a sip of this simple, heavenly variety.

You can purchase the Golden Monkey directly from the Tao Of Tea website.

My first visual impression of this compressed green pu-erh was the bottom of the leaf pile I raked to the curb two months ago that the city maintenance crew still hasn’t picked up. The first smell impression was a strong memory of Grandpa Jenkins’ damp cement-block garden shed resplendent with rusty spades and bins of stored potatoes. Which, lest you think otherwise, is not an unpleasant recollection.

Since my sample didn’t come with an instruction manual, I averaged the best advice I could find online and among acquaintances. Starting gingerly with a nugget the size of an unshelled almond, I gave it a quick rinse with hot kettle water. With water just underneath boiling, I steeped the first batch in a two-cup pot for a minute. The garden shed smell was still prominent, but the taste was lighter and mellower than the eau de potting soil I was bracing for. Almost maple-sugar sweet and leafy with a thickness on the tongue that I don’t generally associate with green teas.

The second steep, since I declared myself over my initial apprehension, was allowed to go a whopping extra 30 seconds. Color deepened just one tint from golden to dark amber, and the sweetness intensified equally.

I’ll end this narrative with Steep #3 (2 minutes, 30 seconds), which is still darker, still sweeter, and apparently still viable for several more steeps. As a newbie to the pu-erh spectrum, I think I should skipped Steeps 1 and 2 and just started here.  Thanks, Grand Tea, for providing an afternoon of entertainment and analysis, as well as proof that even an untutored and clumsy tea preparer can learn to appreciate the personality of this unusual variety.

You can purchase the Year 2000 – 7542 Green Pu-erh directly from the Grand Tea website.

On the same trip to Banff, (see this previous post on the Banff Tea Company’s French Blend) I found this cute little teapot. I was resistant to buy yet another tea pot, after all how many does one person really need to own! We’ll this one I was glad I picked up.

I like to make a small pot for myself, instead of brewing directly in the cup every time. The bright, cheery colors caught my eye and I picked up a pretty green with a white etching. It’s dishwasher safe and included the metal tea basket for brewing any one of your loose tea choices. It’s a one-cup pot, but makes about a cup and a half. Another thing I love about this particular pot is that when pouring, it doesn’t drip back down the spout. This would make a perfect gift; it was under $25.00, so very reasonably priced.

You can purchase HuesNBrews i-pot (sunflower) from the Amazon website (this is NOT an affiliate link!).