First Flush Sencha

The leaves arrive tightly rolled, a deep jade green that unfurls to needle-thin ribbons the moment hot water touches them. Steamed rather than pan-fired in the old Japanese style, they keep a grassy, almost seaweed-bright aroma and a color that stays green in the cup rather than fading to amber. The liquor is pale, faintly cloudy, and tastes of fresh-cut grass and a whisper of the sea. Green tea has long been valued in East Asian tradition as a daily tonic, taken at the start of the day for a level, unjittery kind of alertness rather than a jolt. Its polyphenols, the same compounds responsible for that faint bitterness on the back of the tongue, are valued for their antioxidant properties and remain a subject of considerable modern interest, though the leaf was doing this quiet work long before anyone gave it a chemical name. This lot is a first flush, picked in the earliest weeks of the Japanese harvest when the bushes send up their most tender new growth after winter dormancy. Early leaves carry less tannin and more of the amino acid theanine, which is what gives good sencha its particular savory sweetness, the quality tea drinkers call umami. Each batch is third-party tested for pesticide residue before it leaves the source. Steep a heaping teaspoon at 175°F for ninety seconds; water any hotter will scald the leaf and pull out bitterness before sweetness. Two or three infusions are typical before the leaves are spent. A cup at the desk, or a cup at the window. Either way, it asks to be taken slowly.