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Small talk on Oriental Beauty Tea


"Tea that has been wounded tastes better. Tea and humans share a similarity—both become fragile yet resilient through their wounds. It is these very wounds that make you different from others."


This poignant line from the Taiwanese TV series Gold Leaf (2021) encapsulates both the essence of the drama and the fate of the Taiwanese people during that era—designed to move its audience to tears.

To counterbalance these overwhelming emotions, I decided to take a more rational approach and explore the "wounds" of Oriental Beauty Tea—specifically, the phenomenon known as "tioh-ian" 著蜒/著蝝.

Tea cup, wooden spoon, and two white lids on brown background arranged to resemble a face with black tea leaves as hair and mustache.
"What? This isn’t Darjeeling First Flush?" A friend once pointed out that some top-grade Darjeeling First Flush teas have a marginally comparable flavor profile to Oriental Beauty Tea. Anyone else also has that impression?

"Tioh-ian" 著蜒/著蝝 refers to the condition of tea buds and leaves that have been moderately nibbled by the tea leafhopper (Jacobiasca formosana) 茶小綠葉蟬 during their growth. Traditionally, tea leafhoppers are considered pests in tea cultivation. When the damage becomes severe, the leaves develop red veins, curl up, turn brown, then wither, and break apart (the "Hopperburn"). The tea plants themselves may become stunted or even die, rendering such decayed leaves unsuitable for tea crafting.


The impact goes beyond appearance—damaged leaf veins disrupt moisture flow during the withering process, leading to undesirable flavors in the final brew. These can range from grassy bitterness (菁味 tshenn-bi, the "Raw Veggie Taste") and moldy smell (悶味 tshau-phu-bi, the "Stagnant Water Taste") to a stale, unrefined note (生味 tshau-tsho-bi, the "Expired Plant-Based Oil Taste"). In oolong tea, excessive moisture retention can result in murky, overly dense red hues, a flaw known as "Stagnant Red" 積水紅.

Wounded, yes—but if taken too far, it becomes a detriment rather than a benefit.


However, when the damage to the tea plant is just right, an entirely different story unfolds.

Close-up of a green tea leaf with a small insect, the tea jassid, resting on it. The background features blurred foliage. Red leaf veins and a red spot are visible.
A tea leafhopper and its victim.

The tea leafhopper is remarkably small—only 3 to 4 millimeters long. It feeds by piercing tea leaves and buds with its needle-like mouthparts to extract sap. Some leaves, having been lightly nibbled, show no visible marks unless closely examined—much like a pinprick on thick fabric, pierced but not torn. Others develop slightly curled edges along the central vein and red speckles (that later deepen into red veins).

Once the tea leafhopper has fed, the tea leaves undergo a biochemical transformation:

  • Decreases: Chlorophyll, soluble sugars, and free amino acids.

  • Increases: Catechins, multiple enzymes, polyphenols, caffeine, and four specific proteins.

These changes are triggered by the tea plant’s self-defense mechanism. In response, the plant adjusts its chemical signals—repelling leafhoppers, attracting their natural predators, and simultaneously healing its wounds.


For skilled tea makers, these altered compounds can be carefully transformed into fragrant, sweet-smelling volatile substances—the signature "Leafhopper Flavor" 蜒仔氣 or "Honey-Like Aroma" 蜜香.


In this case, who inflicts the wound really matters. Research shows that when tea leaves are bitten by other types of pests, they often develop a harsher, more bitter taste instead.


The "Honey-Like Aroma" isn’t really the scent of honey but is more reminiscent of rose nectar, lychee blossom honey, or the skin of muscat grapes. The final aroma and flavor depend heavily on the craftsmanship of the tea maker—their skill in processing shapes the tea’s complexity and character. Just as different chefs can transform the same cut of meat into vastly different dishes, the delicate art of tea crafting yields an endless spectrum of flavors.


Even the finest raw leaves 茶菁 can be ruined in unskilled hands.

Tea set on a brown mat with a teapot, teacup, and tea leaves. Plants and vase in the background. Calm, earthy tones. Oriental Beauty Tea is serving in this ceremonial tea tasting session.
Oriental Beauty Tea in ceremonial tasting set; arranging by our friend Fabian from tea.impressions.

Tea leafhoppers thrive in warm, humid environments and are typically found in low-altitude hills. However, due to climate change, they have recently been spotted in higher mountain tea regions as well.


While traditional Oriental Beauty tea is made exclusively from Qing Xin Da Pang 青心大冇, tea leafhoppers are not particularly selective—they happily nibble on a variety of tea cultivars and even other plants like guavas, snap beans, and wax apples. Some of their favored tea cultivars include:

  • Qing Xin Oolong 青心烏龍

  • Huang Gan 黃柑

  • Tie Guan Yin 鐵觀音, aka Hong Xin Wai Wei Tou 紅心歪尾桃

  • Qing Xin Gan 青心柑仔

  • Assam 阿薩姆種

Each cultivar undergoes a slightly different transformation when nibbled, but the overall result is a honeyed fragrance blended with the cultivar’s unique aroma.


******


In Taiwan’s current tea market, a pound of top-quality Oriental Beauty can command prices exceeding one million NTD (~$30,000 USD) in auction.

Is this simply industry hype? Partly. But truly exceptional Oriental Beauty is, indeed, breathtakingly rare—almost heaven-sent. All conditions must align perfectly, and many accomplished hands are required.

  • The tea leafhopper-bites must be perfectly balanced.

  • The tender buds and young leaves must be hand-picked with precision, requiring expert eyes to assess their condition.

  • The tea crafting process is intensely demanding, akin to the craftsmanship required in a three-Michelin-star kitchen.

  • The final refinement phase involves meticulous sorting, slight charcoal roasting, careful removal of imperfect leaves, adjustment of the bud-to-leaf ratio, and more.


For true artisans, tea crafting is an art form. Some treat each batch as a masterpiece, sculpting it with obsessive dedication.

Oriental Beauty can be a drinkable work of art—and its price reflects that.


******


Lastly, a small historical correction to the old myth about its naming by an English queen:

The name "Oriental Beauty" 東方美人 and its English translation were coined in 1982 by Wu Zhen-Duo 吳振鐸, the first-generation master of the Tea and Beverage Crops Research Station of Taiwan (TBRS), and the so-called "Father of Modern Taiwanese Tea." Prior to that, this tea was known by many different names, depending on the region:

  • Pong Fung Ca 椪風茶、膨風茶, meaning "Bragging Tea," originated in the Hakka villages of northern Taiwan.

  • Ian-a-te 蜒仔茶, meaning "Leafhopper Tea", originated in the Hakka-Minan-mix communities of northern Taiwan.

  • Five-Colors Tea 五色茶

  • Bai Hao Oolong 白毫烏龍, meaning "White Tip Oolong".

  • The Highest Grade of Huan-Tsng Oolong 最高等級的番庄烏龍

  • Champagne Oolong 香檳烏龍

  • Fu Shou Tea 福壽茶, meaning "Lucky Life Tea", named by former vice president Hsieh Tung-Min 謝東閔 in 1980.

However, during the era depicted in Gold Leaf, no one had yet heard of or call it by the name "Oriental Beauty."


Just to set the record straight—the charming myth claims that an English queen in the 19th century named the tea Oriental Beauty after being captivated by its delicate taste. In reality, however, neither Queen Victoria nor Queen Elizabeth had anything to do with its name. Instead, it was dedicated tea scientists who sought to craft a fittingly romantic title for this extraordinary tea.

「『東方美人』命名由來」的資料來源為茶改場於1997年撰寫之《臺灣茶葉起源特色》手冊。明確載錄1982年時,茶業改良場前場長吳振鐸先生到新竹參加農事講習會,建議茶農將品名改為「東方美人茶」以利市場識別,獲當時行政院長俞國華認同等語。該手冊資訊經數位化後,現已可在臺灣文化部「國家文化記憶庫」搜尋到。

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