Autumn Flush
(October into November)
The monsoon clouds have retreated, the skies cleared, and again the glacier-capped peaks of the Himalayas dominate the horizon. The slopes glow in serene lavenders, pinks, and pale golds in the last, softening light as the sun disappears early and darkness descends over Darjeeling by five P.M.
The final flush is short, just a few weeks or so on each side of the Diwali holiday celebrated at the end of October or early November. Baby-blue flycatchers with banditlike eye masks, woodcocks, and leaf-green magpies dart among the garden’s shade trees. Marigolds bordering the fields flower ruddy yellow, their bases ringed with deep-orange petals. On the bushes, white tea flowers blossom: floral, fragrant, and tropical, they have the sweetness of jasmine, but not as cloying.
The autumnal leaves produce a liquor colored a ruddy copper, bright auburn, even burgundy. What a surprise to see claret tones glowing in the white tasting cup! So far from the greenish golds of spring. Sipped, the tea’s flavor is round and more robust than that of the previous flushes, with mellowed hints of musky spice and smoke. There is a sparkle, a slight kick even.
“It’s the most complex flush. It’s the most sophisticated flush. It’s the most refined flush,” said Sanjay Sharma over breakfast under a pomelo tree just below the old planter’s bungalow on Glenburn. “By this I mean it’s got everything in it. It’s a very fine tea.” On this late morning in November, the chain of peaks shimmered to the north. “Fine,” he repeated, drawing out the word, “smooth, mellow.” As he spoke, his eyes remained on Kanchenjunga rising boldly up in the pristine sky with all the distraction of a flickering TV screen in a sports bar. “It has that body, amber color, very defined flavors, from malts to chocolates to fruity notes, dried apricots. It just sits on the palate, just sits and sits and sits. Just lingers there.”
It has presence but not impatience.
And poetry:
Leaves: This beautiful autumn harvest surprises with twisted leaves in multiple colours (silver, green, brown, red).
Nose: The nose is treated to notes of chocolate as well as woody fragrances, stewed fruit and plum jam.
Liquor: From the onset, the brilliant amber liquor enchants us with a buttery, vanilla-laced background on which fruity notes (fresh Agen prunes, accentuated by cooked apple and quince jam), honey and a floral hint (rose, geranium) coalesce. The finale ascends with a halo of woody and liquorice notes lingering over this grand bouquet.1
So goes the tantalizing description of a Castleton autumn vintage in a Mariage Frères catalog.
“Autumnal teas can be marvelously complex,” said Sanjay Kapur at Aap Ki Pasand in Old Delhi. “Very easy to drink and intense in flavor.”
For many insiders these are the year’s finest teas, a last and final offering from the bushes. But they don’t get much attention on the international market. “Europeans are done buying for Christmas, or distracted by Christmas, when these teas are ready,” Kapur said. That means that they tend to be “underrated,” which is to say less expensive than their first and second flush counterparts. He smiled at this delicious coincidence.
By the second and third week of November, the harvesting year winds down. Nights get colder, and then the days, too. Snakes disappear into burrows and rockery crevices. Birds migrate out of Central Asia over the Himalayas, while others simply come down from higher hills to the lower, warmer plains to winter. Ruddy shelducks, ibisbills with long, downward-curving, red beaks, and bar-headed geese pass through. Numerous black cormorants. Students from the elite English-medium schools sit for exams as the March-to-November school year comes to a close. They wear crested blazers and school ties, and even though the rains have stopped and there will be little, if any, precipitation until springtime, the boys from St. Paul’s stroll through town with umbrellas.
Production slows. A batch tasting may consist of just a single tea or two.
The last of the leaves are brought in and processed. Workers pack the final chests of tea for the warehouses in Kolkata. A scattering of leaves have been left on the trees by workers, anxious to begin pruning.
The days grow shorter, the mornings crisper. Brisk winds blow off the icy peaks. A snap is in the air, the smell of coal smoke. Thermometers flirt with freezing. Hoarfrost spreads across the higher reaches of the estates. Snow dusts the tops of the hills, and then, gradually, the skirt of white begins to drop lower. At night, the brilliant, clear skies slur with rigid stars. The tea bushes go into hibernation for the winter.
CHAPTER 15
Positive Winds
Despite the severe challenges of climate, labor, and political stability, the winds blowing out of the Darjeeling hills still carry optimism and are redolent with promise. Even with the string of recent terrible harvests and current lack of profits, when asked about Darjeeling tea’s future, nearly everyone involved with the industry answers “optimistic,” “highly optimistic,” or “extremely optimistic.”
“Demand for Darjeeling tea has gone up leaps and bounds,” said Sanjay Kapur in his Delhi atelier Aap Ki Pasand. “After some stagnant years, prices have gone up significantly.” J. Thomas & Co.’s Darjeeling auctioneer, Anindyo Choudhury, agreed. “It has done a U-turn and is on the way up. It is around the curve. Two thousand one, 2002, and 2003 were low points. Two thousand ten is when the market really changed.” He tipped back in the desk chair in his office. “There have been three or four very good years,” he said. “The market is there.”
Internationally, Darjeeling’s most important markets—Germany and Japan—are strengthening; markets are growing in France and elsewhere in Europe; and North America has emerged as important. The Russians, with rising affluence, are eyeing higher-quality teas. Asia is also looking bright. Iranian and Middle Eastern buyers are moving from CTC to Indian orthodox teas, said Choudhury. Iran is now the world’s fifth-largest tea importer and rising fast, with a twofold increase over the past two decades. For the moment the orthodox it buys is mostly from Assam, but Darjeeling appeals to clients looking for the highest quality. China, traditionally a green (and oolong) tea-drinking nation, is developing a taste for Indian black teas and has taken clear notice of Darjeeling’s more refined (and expensive) offerings. “In the last two years, there has been an interest among the Chinese young crowd for black tea. Darjeeling tea is used for corporate gifting and on special occasions,” according to Sujoy Sengupta of Chamong Tee.1 In 2012, the group shipped around 250,000 kilograms (550,000 pounds) of tea from their gardens to China and expect to see an increase. In autumn 2013, the Economic Times reported that South Korea, predominately a green-tea market, ordered a staggering 1.5 million kilograms (3 million pounds) of Darjeeling tea, about one-sixth of its entire production.2
As a fine-tea merchant and taster, a prime source of Vikram Mittal’s enthusiasm is in the flavor of teas raised on new stock propagated from cuttings of strains well suited for local conditions instead of with seeds from old China bushes. In the traditional method, seeds are sown in on-site seedbeds and then transplanted in small polyethylene sleeves of soil, about eight to ten inches long and as thick as baguettes, once they germinate, some four to six weeks later. Under a bamboo thatch of shade, they mature for nine or so months in a garden’s open-air nursery until ready for planting. Old China leaf comes from a mix of parentage and sources, with leaf sizes all slightly different. When processing them, Sanjay Sharma said, “You sort of shoot for the middle. It’s harder for tea making.”