The Smoky Echoes Of A 2006 Gaoshanlaoshu Raw Puerh

Here’s something to stir your curiosity: A 2006 Gaoshanlaoshu raw puerh delivers a smokestack of hickory and barbecue pit, but the rest of the story feels unfinished. The tea’s aroma is a quiet rebellion—hickory without the sharpness of a charcoal grill, oatmeal without the cloying sweetness of breakfast. It’s a scent that lingers, but only in the upper register, like smoke drifting above a campfire rather than settling into the air.

The first steep reveals a paradox: lightness that hints at depth. Oatmeal and woody incense dance with a peppery edge, while a fleeting strawberry note vanishes like steam in the morning. By the second steep, the mouthfeel begins to thicken, and the smoke gains weight, stacking like layers in a slow-burn fire. Yet the body remains restrained, and the finish lacks the lingering sweetness that defines great puerh. The tea feels like a half-finished novel—promising, but unresolved.

By the fifth steep, the smoke softens into a briny note of brisket and water, accompanied by a relaxed qi that tingles the tongue. The leaves, long and straight like yancha, hint at their origin but fail to deliver the complexity of a mature cake. The absence of huigan—a hallmark of aged puerh—leaves the experience feeling hollow, as though the tea is waiting for something to unlock its potential.

Key points: The tea’s smoky aroma is its strongest asset, but the lack of depth and sweetness leaves it underwhelming. The leaves suggest a yancha origin, yet their dry scent lacks the earthy richness of a well-aged cake. While the smoke is dialed in perfectly, the tea’s body and finish feel incomplete.

Would you still call it a masterpiece, or would you keep sipping until the smoke faded.

What if this puerh had been paired with a touch of sweetness and a fuller body? Would you still call it a masterpiece, or would you keep sipping until the smoke faded?