Exploring Gyokuro | An Introduction to This Powerful Shaded Tea

Gyokuro is Japan's most luxurious and elegant loose leaf tea, but despite this there are a few misconceptions about how it's made and how to brew it. So today I'll talk about what gyokuro is, how it's produced, and the special way you brew it. Gyokuro, which translates to jade dew, was invented in 1841 by Eguchi Shigejuro and is a shaded type of loose leaf green tea. Considered a luxury, gyokuro only makes up 0.3% of the total tea production in Japan. That's not a lot. Apart from the shading, gyokuro is produced in a very similar fashion to sencha. One misconception is that gyokuro is a higher grade of tea than sencha, and while in some ways this is true, there is more effort and time that is put into it, there are two different types of teas that really can't be compared directly. There are high quality gyokuro and low quality gyokuro in the same way that there are high quality sencha and low quality sencha. The main factor that differentiates these types of teas is the amount of time that the tea is shaded for. Sencha is traditionally unshaded, but many senchas today are shaded for a few days or up to a week. Teas shaded between a week and two weeks are called kabuseicha, or shaded tea, and teas shaded for three to four weeks are called gyokuro. These definitions are very loose and they vary a lot from region to region. For example, in the Kyoto region, teas shaded for less than 14 days are still considered sencha, whereas in other regions in Japan those would be considered a kabuseicha. With those definitions set, I'll talk a little bit about why teas are shaded in the first place. Reducing the amount of sunlight that reaches the leaves causes the plant to produce more chlorophyll and chloroplasts to harvest more of the little sunlight that is available. This turns the leaves a darker, richer green, and additionally these chloroplasts start breaking down the catechins that are present in the leaves. These catechins are bitter-tasting compounds that work to protect the leaves from UV radiation from the sun. Without the need to protect the plant from this UV radiation, the chloroplasts will break down these catechins and convert them into amino acids, including L-theanine, which is what gives tea its umami, savoury taste. Additionally, they'll produce some more aromatic compounds such as benzaldehyde, which is what is responsible for the specific aroma that comes from shaded teas like kabuseicha, gyokuro, and matcha. There are a few different ways to shade a tea plant. The simplest and cheapest way is called chikakabusei, or direct shading. This is when a synthetic fabric is rolled out across the top of a tea plant and lies directly on the surface of the leaves. This method only works with machine-harvested tea plants because they have a flat surface on which to rest this cloth. The second method, called shelf-style, or tanayou, or kanrei-sha, involves building a canopy above the tea plants on which the same synthetic cloth is laid out. Leaving space between the tea plant and the shading fabric means the plant can grow more naturally, meaning it can be picked by hand. Additionally, this also allows for more airflow, keeping the tea a little bit cooler. The most traditional and highest quality type of shading is called honzu. Similar to the previous style of shading, a canopy is built over the tea plants, but instead of using a synthetic fabric, the farmers will use natural reeds to block out the sunlight. On top of this, they can stack layers of straw to block out even more sunlight. So you can see, there's the bamboo reeds, and on top of that, there's straw. So, come over here, you can see the difference where the straw is, and then no straw. Compared to the synthetic cloth, the natural reeds allow for the plants to breathe more easily, meaning that the area under the shading is a little cooler and a little less humid. This allows the plants to grow even better. Compared to the kanrei-sha earlier, the honzu is much cooler and less humid. Even though it's a very similar amount of shading, sometimes even less shading, it lets humidity out because it's not plastic. One major downside of this style of shading is that it is incredibly labour intensive, and because of this, it's becoming increasingly rare in Japan. There are two areas in Japan that are famous for producing gyokuro, one being uji, the same area that is famous for matcha, and the other being yame in Fukuoka Prefecture in the south of Japan. In both of these regions, the traditional honzu style of shading is kept alive by a handful of experienced and talented farmers. In uji, one of our partners, Yoshida Major End, continues to use this traditional type of shading along with handpicking to produce their highest grades of gyokuro. In yame, there is a specific tradition of producing traditional gyokuro, which they call yame dento hon gyokuro, dento meaning traditional and hon meaning real. These guidelines are very strict, requiring the farmers to use specific types of fertiliser alongside honzu shading and handpicking. Kuma En, one of our partners in yame, is well known for their dento hon gyokuro, and consistently receives praise and awards for their exquisite tea. After the tea has been shaded for two to four weeks, it's time to harvest it. Like most teas in Japan, the majority of gyokuro is harvested by machine, but the higher quality teas are picked by hand. The picking for gyokuro is similar to sencha. One bud and three to four leaves is common, but the highest grades, those used for dento hon or competition, are picked with one bud and two leaves. After harvest, the teas are processed in much the same way as sencha, meaning they are steamed, rolled, and then dried. If you want to see a more in-depth look at this process, you can check out our video on that over here. Two ways that gyokuro differs from sencha in the processing is the steaming and the rolling. For the steaming, gyokuro is almost always short-steamed, or asanushi. As such, you'll never see a hukimushi gyokuro. When it comes to the final rolling and shaping of the leaves into needles, gyokuro is rolled with a slightly lower pressure than sencha. This is partially because the leaves used to make gyokuro are slightly thinner because of the shaving. In extremely rare cases, this final rolling can be done by hand in a process called temomi, or hand-rolling. This is usually reserved for sencha in hand-rolling competitions, where it's called temomicha, but a handful of farmers do in fact carry on the tradition of hand-rolling gyokuro, one of them being Yoshida Riichi of Yoshida Meichien, who spends six hours rolling gyokuro over a hoiro, which is the washi-covered table heated by a charcoal fire on which the tea is rolled and dried. With all of the time and effort that goes into producing this amazing tea, we want to make sure we brew it properly. One of the most common issues people have with gyokuro is in the preparation. They'll brew it like a regular sencha, which, while tasty, doesn't bring out all of the amazing aromas and powerful umami that this tea has to offer. The brewing of gyokuro is incredibly extreme. A very large amount of leaf is used compared to a very small amount of water. It is brewed at a very low temperature to extract more of the amino acids and umami compounds, and fewer of the bitter-tasting catechins. The resulting cup is a very small shot of incredibly concentrated and powerful umami. While you can, of course, brew gyokuro in a regular kyusu, there are a few more specialized options. This is a hirakyusu, or flat kyusu, and its wide and flat shape is especially suited to brewing gyokuro. The wide opening allows the water to cool down quickly, and the wide shape allows the leaves to unfurl horizontally, meaning they have a more even surface contact with the water. Another traditional option is the hohin. These have long been used to brew gyokuro, especially in the Uji and Kyoto regions. They are usually smaller in shape than most kyusu, which makes them well suited to brewing highly concentrated shots of gyokuro. But today, I'll be using a shiboridashi. This is a style of teapot that is specifically designed to brew gyokuro. It has the same wide, flat shape as a hirakyusu, and the same handle-less design as a hohin. If you want to learn more about the different types of Japanese teapots, you can check out a video on that over here. This shiboridashi was made by the skilled craftsmen at the gyoko workshop out of their signature bright red shu-de clay. I'll be pouring my tea into this adorable little gyokuro-wan, meaning gyokuro cup, made by Maekawa Junzo. But I am missing one thing, and that's the tea. Today, I'll be brewing a gyokuro made by Rishoen called koyo, which means autumn leaves. We gave it this name in reference to the fact that most gyokuro is rested until autumn before being sold. This allows the spring-picked leaves to round out and mature, producing a smoother cup of tea. As always, first thing I'll do is heat my water. As I mentioned, gyokuro calls for a very low brewing temperature, anywhere between 40 and 60 degrees Celsius. Today, I'll be brewing at around 40-45 degrees Celsius, and most temperature control kettles actually struggle to accurately heat their water to this temperature. So there are a few tricks you can use to get water down to this temperature. My kettle is currently at 60 degrees Celsius, so I can use my teaware to cool that water down to the 40 degrees that I'm looking for. First, I'll pour the water into the cup. This cools the water by roughly 10 degrees Celsius, so now I know it's around 50 degrees. This also functions to measure out the water I need to use, because now I know I have just enough water to fill this cup. Pouring the water into the shiboridashi cools it by another 10 degrees Celsius, so now I'm in roughly this 40 degrees ballpark. The cup is preheated, so I can pour the water back into the cup and weigh out my tea leaves. Gyokuro calls for a very high leaf-to-water ratio, but quite how high is up to you. Today, for my tiny 25ml cup, I'll be using 4g of gyokuro. Now that my tea is weighed, I'll pour the water in and start a timer. Because of the really low water temperature, the brewing time for gyokuro, especially for the first infusion, is typically a lot longer than you'd use for regular sencha. Anywhere between 1 minute and 30 seconds to 2 minute and 30 seconds, depending on the water temperature and the amount of tea leaves. The lower the temperature, the longer the time you'll need. I'll also take this time to reheat my teacup, because by the time this is done brewing, the water will have cooled so much that the tea will actually be around room temperature, and it's much nicer to drink this tea out of a warm cup. I don't have a kansui. That's okay, I'll drink it, it's fine, it's water. Now that the tea has been brewing for about 2 minutes, I'll put the lid back on and it's time to pour. Using a shibori dashi allows you to set a very fine opening so that you can pour the tea out without getting any of the leaves. When pouring gyokuro, you want to be slow and smooth as not to disturb the leaves too much, and you really want to make sure to get as many of the final drops out as you can, because the final drops have the most concentrated flavour. If you've never had gyokuro before, it is an incredibly powerful experience, so take it slow, take a small sip first. Itadakimasu. So, the first thing you'll notice is an incredibly powerful punch of umami. It's a completely different taste to a regular sencha or even a kabu seicha. The texture is also going to be much thicker and brothier because of the incredibly high leaf-to-water ratio. Even at this incredibly high concentration, there is absolutely zero bitterness in this gyokuro, which is a testament to the science of shading and to the hard work and passion that is put into this tea. Gyokuro has this incredible power to linger on the palate for a really long time, which is really pleasant. Because of the high leaf-to-water ratio, the gyokuro can be re-infused multiple times, maybe five, six, even seven times, depending on how you brew it and how you like your tea. For the subsequent infusions of gyokuro, you can use higher amounts of water, maybe like 30% more, as well as hotter water and longer brewing times. For the second infusion, I'll be using slightly hotter water, around 60 degrees, and 30 or 40 millilitres. Another guideline for the second infusion is to add just enough water that it will cover all of the leaves. I tend to keep my second infusions of gyokuro shorter than the first one, so I'll brew it for around 30 seconds before pouring it. The second infusion of gyokuro still has plenty of umami and a lot of sweetness, but it lacks the presence and power of the first infusion, which is truly something special. The second infusion is a lot more balanced and drinks more like a regular tea, but still has the incredibly unique flavour of gyokuro. This particular tea is blended from both machine and hand-picked gyokuro from around the Kyoto and Uji regions, using cultivars such as Saimidori Ujihikari, Saimidori and Goko. All of these are well known in the Uji region for being excellent under shading. From now on, for each infusion that I brew, I'll increase the temperature of the water by about 10 degrees Celsius and brew it for about 15 seconds longer each time. For the third infusion, I'll brew it at 70 degrees Celsius for 45 seconds. The third infusion is quite similar to the second, being very balanced and quite sweet. Depending on the gyokuro that you're brewing, you can brew it for another 3, 4, even 5 times and it's entirely up to your taste. Unlike sencha, gyokuro doesn't really get bitter with over-infusion or repeated infusion, but it will just become less and less powerful in flavour. As always, my brewing recommendations are just that, recommendations. You can always tweak the parameters to your liking and to the specific tea that you're brewing. After you've brewed your gyokuro for as many infusions as you'd like, you can, if you so choose, actually eat the leaves. The shading causes the leaves to be really thin, pliable and soft, which makes them actually quite pleasant to eat. It's not uncommon if you go to a tea shop in Japan for them to serve you the tea leaves dressed with a simple salad dressing made of ponzu, a soy sauce and maybe some sesame seeds. I could go for a salad right now. That's pretty tasty. I will say one downside or upside, depending on how you look at it, of eating gyokuro salad is that you'll have a lot of caffeine because you're actually eating the tea leaves. You'll also get a lot more of the antioxidants because you're eating all of the tea leaves. I hope you enjoyed this brief overview of gyokuro. If you did, please leave a like on the video and subscribe to see more like this in the future. As always, I'll leave links to the tea and teaware used in the video in the description down below. Let me know in the comments if you'd like to learn more about what I've mentioned today. Thank you very much for watching and I hope you have a good day while I have a good salad.