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The deep cultural significance of pu’er cha , or pu-erh if you were on the other side of the Opium Wars, is often overlooked because it’s really not that deep.
Pu’er is a kind of fermented tea that takes time to age, ranging from a few years to a few decades, and it can be stored in airtight conditions to mature like wine. Experts claim that pu’er is best enjoyed when it is mature enough to not throw a tantrum in the IKEA food court but before it can develop financial anxiety.
In the Song Dynasty, people consumed their tea by adding water to a leaf powder paste they created first, which most likely contributed to its fall in 1279 CE. This slow and precise process is called dian cha . The foam created by the tea after constantly beating it with a bamboo whisk is the ancient equivalent of frothed milk, or the practice of enjoying your air with a side of drink.
Tea is a warm and relaxing beverage meant for the best of times and the worst of times. Some think of preparing it as a delicate art, requiring deep understanding and attention to detail, while others are content just microwaving some water. Both are valid ways of enjoying tea in different settings. One may argue that finding a “superior” way is stupid, but the scholars of various dynasties would beg to differ. To prove their point, they may write ancient diss poetry and/or engage in a fistfight, providing unsolicited entertainment in a teahouse.
According to credible Quora user Terance Wares, who has been cooking for over fifty years without a single human casualty, drinking tea when you have a cold has no downsides, only bringing you comfort in miserable times. That being said, flu season is the perfect time to dig around in your kitchen to locate your tea supply, whose twelfth birthday is approaching.
If you have never felt particularly reflective of your identity, unlike your neighbor that just passed the HSK (the standardized proficiency test in the Standard Chinese language) or your cousin that’s studying nuclear physics at Tsinghua, there are few better ways to start connecting to your culture than through food and drink. You are no less Asian than someone else; your effort at connecting with your heritage proves that about you.
Returning to the topic at hand: you are sick because you overworked yourself like you always do. So pull out the tin of gong cha (tribute tea) your uncle in Hebei gave to you as a gift and treat yourself like an emperor—then remember that he bought it at some fancy tea convention in Beijing and put it back in your cupboard (where it will stay for another five years before you hand it off to a family member you respect but aren’t willing to buy a new A/C unit for). To summarize, this tutorial doesn’t require anything fancy.
Boil some water on your stove. In the meantime, look for some pu’er leaves you swore your mom gave you last year. If red smoke begins to appear in your pot, do not panic. Despite its bloody appearance, this dark red actually symbolizes luck and prosperity, or so your aunt—the one with more framed images of the Buddha than her children—has told you since you were five.
At this moment, a spirit will spring out of your pot and almost send you into cardiac arrest. Do not curse at it, as this behavior will offend it despite its lack of understanding of modern American English. After all, tone and intent are some of many things that transcend language barriers.
If your spirit has deep forehead wrinkles, little horn-like bumps on his balding head, and low-key resembles one of the many fu dog/stone lion statues you saw at Lugou Bridge in the summer of 2018, it is most likely Shen Nong, father of Chinese herbal medicine. It may be hard for you to identify him based on description alone, but he will surely introduce himself.
Allow Shen Nong to peruse your pantry and gather any herbs or spices he may need. If your kitchen is pitifully void of such resources, he will look at you in disappointment and produce a small pouch, red silk embroidered with gold thread, from his sleeve of hammerspace.
It is helpful to be able to speak and understand Mandarin Chinese so that conversing with him is easier, but you can also use Google Translate’s voice-to-speech feature in a pinch. Do be prepared for some confusing metaphors and mistranslations; Shen Nong has thousands of years of age to his name, and his vernacular reflects that.
Nonetheless, this dusty old man with a receding hairline is someone to be trusted. Like the writer, you may feel yourself growing weary at this point in time. Allow yourself to pass out by your kitchen table while Shen Nong bustles around with his funny plants. When you wake up, you will find yourself tucked into bed with a still-hot pot of tea on your nightstand, a cup already poured out for you.
As you gratefully sip on your tea, feeling better already, remember to watch the loose tea leaves in your cup arrange themselves into different characters and form a sternly-written note telling you to take care of yourself.