A TASTE OF TAIWAN
We ended the day with a tasting ceremony. No distractions. Just the tea, the mountains, and silence.
The water was heated to exactly 95°C (203°F). The leaves steeped. The golden liquor poured. Then the first sip — a swirl of mountain air, morning mist, and history in a cup. It’s hard to describe Alishan Oolong without slipping into poetry. But really, that’s what it is — liquid poetry.
This tea doesn’t just taste good. It feels like something. It carries with it the echoes of its origin — the altitude, the cloud cover, the ancient soil, the hands that made it.
Perhaps that is the essence of tea at its finest — a connection to land, to craft, and to one another. Because this isn’t just about tea, it’s about the transmission of knowledge. About keeping something alive that the world needs more of: patience and reverence for craft.
As we drove back down the mountain, winding below the clouds, I thought about the generations of tea farmers past and present and the many more yet to come — a story reaching through time. In the end, this tea isn’t just from Taiwan. It is a part of the landscape, culture and people. A part of Taiwan itself.