Higher leaf standards, better tasting tea? Xinyang tea farmers weigh in.

A Note from Foodthink

With the passing of Grain Rain, the peak season for this year’s spring tea has come to a temporary close. During the Qingming Festival, Foodthink shared a story about the climate resilience of a natural farming tea garden in Xinyang. Today, we present the second part, which explores the controversy surrounding “Xiao Hundan” in Xinyang Maojian. We discuss how the shift towards single buds as the highest standard for fresh leaves has impacted local tea farmers, and how a new generation of practitioners is exploring sustainable production and management.

*The author has made some revisions to the first part of this article, “How are Spring Teas Farring Under Extreme Weather?” Please click here to read it. We would also like to thank the reader “Yu Jing” for correcting some of the information in the article.

Returning to the tea room from the Deyi Tea Garden, both the hot water and the conversation flowed seamlessly. When Zhang Chao serves guests, he eschews the glass straight-sided cups typically used for Maojian in favour of the Gongfu style, using a gaiwan, a fairness cup, and small tea cups to pour the tea steep by steep. This method ensures that everyone drinking shares the same tea liquor (hence the term “fairness cup”) and allows one to experience the full, layered sensory evolution of the leaves from the first infusion to the last. As the session of Xinyang Maojian ended and the spent leaves were poured out, one could see individual yellow-tender, clean leaves—each consisting of one bud and one leaf, just beginning to unfurl.

I had heard that in Xinyang, Maojian is locally divided into “Xiao Hundan” and “Da Qing Nong”. There are various interpretations of “Da Qing Nong”—some say it refers to large-leaf tea, others to machine-processed tea, summer or autumn harvests, or tea from expanded county-level production areas—but in any case, it is not considered high grade. The term “Xiao Hundan”, however, is more specific: it refers to tea consisting mostly of pure buds. Rare and expensive, it was once highly coveted by the market.

Zhang Chao asked me rhetorically, “If a cup of tea is both cloudy and bland, do you think it would taste good?”

The answer seemed obvious. In my limited experience with tea, a “good tea” is typically described as having a clean, bright liquor and a rich flavour.

Compared to the widely established and promoted Coffee Taster’s Flavor Wheel, the flavour profile of tea is far more complex. Adding dimensions of culture and aesthetics only increases this complexity. The combination of variables—cultivar, origin, specific hillside, leaf grade, harvest season, processing technique, and even the brewing method—determines the ultimate expression of the tea’s taste.

Yet, the “appreciation” of tea is not merely an accumulation of clarified gustatory experiences; it is underpinned by a complex construction of culture, capital, and power, often shrouded in myth. Among these, the grading of fresh leaves is the easiest to identify, and therefore the most common point of contention.

I. From “One Bud, One Leaf” to “Single Bud”

The harvesting standard at Deyi Tea Garden is “one bud, one leaf”. This is the traditional standard for Xinyang Maojian, and it is what Zhang Chao’s father used to store in his white tin tea canisters. However, this is not the top-tier Xinyang Maojian currently sought after by the market.

● Pure single-bud green tea tasted in a tea house in Xinyang.

Behind the birth of “Xiao Hundan” was a pivotal historical event: the formulation and release of the 2008 *Geographical Indication Product: Xinyang Maojian Tea* standard, which remains the benchmark for the Xinyang tea industry today.

In its grading system, a new top tier called “Precious” (Zhenpin) was introduced. Harvested in spring, the standard for its buds and leaves was “over 85% single buds, with the remainder being one bud and one leaf just beginning to unfurl”. This was far more stringent than the previous top grade, “Special” (Teji), which required one bud and one leaf just beginning to unfurl.

● Top: 1985 Xinyang Maojian grading standards; Middle and Bottom: 2008 Xinyang Maojian grading standards (GB/T 22737-2008). Source: *Xinyang History and Culture Series, Tea Volume*

The term “Xiao Hundan” (literally “Little Rascal”, but here referring to “Small, Cloudy, and Bland”) breaks down as follows: first, “Xiao” (Small) refers to the pursuit of tiny single buds; second, “Hun” (Cloudy) refers to the cloudiness of the liquor, caused by the abundance of downy hairs on the buds and excessive rolling during processing to achieve a “tight and straight” appearance, which damages the leaves; third, “Dan” (Bland) refers to the taste, as single buds are picked early and have accumulated fewer internal substances.

In current Xinyang Maojian tastings, scarcity has become synonymous with high quality, and sensory requirements are driven primarily by visuals. Beyond the dry tea’s need to be “slender, round, tight, and straight”, the brewed liquor must be “tender green and bright”.

Because “Xiao Hundan” liquor is cloudy, the “brightness” is lost, though the “tender green” can still be manipulated.

Since chlorophyll turns yellow at high temperatures, the “green” effect is achieved by lowering the temperatures during fixing (kill-green), rolling, and shaping. However, if the fixing is insufficient, not only are the aroma and taste compromised, but subsequent preservation and storage also become problematic. As for the fact that tea made this way can irritate the stomach, Zhang Chao says people in Xinyang often joke that it “scrapes away the grease”.

There are other explanations too: “the ‘cloudiness’ is actually just more white hairs,” or “green tea is all about freshness, so it must be refrigerated and brewed with lower water temperatures.” The justifications are endless. When high grades and high prices are at stake, people will always find a way to rationalize it.

● In the aesthetic of Xinyang Maojian, both the 1985 and 2008 standards emphasise “white hairs” (baihao)—the fine layer of downy fuzz covering the tender buds.

It was first the emergence of “Xiao Hundan” that created the comparison with “Da Qing Nong”, and subsequently led to other labels like “Xiao Qing Xiang” (Small, Clear, and Fragrant) and “Da Hundan” (Big, Cloudy, and Bland). One name spawned a proliferation of others.

As “Xiao Hundan” gained market favour, the market produced more of it. The “Xiao Hundan” born of flaws in raw materials and processing—legitimised by the high price of rarity—evolved from an unintentional “cloudiness” to a deliberate pursuit of it, thus fueling its own reproduction.

The internal qualities of tea, such as taste and aroma, have gradually given way to “appearance”. Put simply: looking good is more important than tasting good. This pursuit of white hairs, early harvests, and extreme tenderness could be described as another form of the “pale, young, and thin” aesthetic. Every person involved in the tea trade has, whether actively or passively, participated in the shaping and interpretation of this “gaze”.

II. The ‘Little Scoundrel’ That Hurts the Farmer

While the ‘little scoundrel’ may be ‘hard on the stomach’ for the end consumer, it is ‘hard on the farmer’ at the production end. In the value chain of Xinyang Maojian, the upstream tea farmers, as the producers, are primarily responsible for tea garden management and the supply of fresh leaves.

The picking of Xinyang’s premium spring teas relies entirely on manual labour. Amidst a structural shortage of workforce, migrant pickers arrive each year following the harvest. Beyond cash wages, there are additional costs for local room and board, agency fees, travel, and insurance; the cost of hiring pickers grows year by year.

● Top: Minjia High-Mountain Ecological Tea Garden in Cheyunshan. Pickers having lunch in the courtyard, where they also reside in the farmhouses. Most of these workers hail from Nanyang, Henan, and have established long-term, stable partnerships with the tea-farming couples. As those from Nanyang prefer noodles, while those in Xinyang eat both rice and noodles, a lady from Nanyang is specially tasked with the cooking. Bottom: Another tea garden, where workers return to their village dormitories on motorised tricycles after finishing their shift.

● Pickers at Deyi mostly come from nearby villages; they arrive on electric scooters, and some even travel to the mountains in small cars. Hiring local pickers removes the burden of additional expenses, but it means paying higher cash wages.

Demanding pure buds means picking becomes more difficult and the harvest window shorter—pickers spend more energy to harvest less tea in fewer days. Yield per unit area decreases while production costs rise; beyond labour, farmers face increasing agricultural input costs and the risk of crop failure due to extreme weather. Even if the purchase price for pure buds is higher, the farmers’ overall returns are declining. Since ‘one bud, one leaf’ or ‘one bud, two leaves’ spring teas fetch poor prices, and summer or autumn teas are rarely bought, farmers quickly prune their gardens and leave for migrant work to survive on multiple income streams once the 20-day spring bud harvest ends.

With declining returns, farmers must cut spending and reduce labour costs for garden management, while simultaneously trying to increase the budding rate and yield per plant. Consequently, they become increasingly dependent on the convenience and ‘efficiency’ of pesticides and chemical fertilisers. But this is a vicious cycle. High prices for buds lead farmers to force growth, which compacts the soil and lowers yields, prompting further forcing… The ever-rising costs of picking and agricultural inputs, combined with frequent crop failures due to climate change, leave farmers overwhelmed. Through land transfers or abandonment, more and more farmers are leaving their tea gardens.

The buds drive the people, and the people drive the buds, eventually leaving behind compacted soil and withered tea trees—a different kind of ‘cold tea’ once the people have gone.

● Top: A tea farmer encountered in the mountains near Deyi in late March. When asked about his garden, he said the buds wouldn’t emerge and cursed, ‘Planting * tea!’ Bottom: Tea trees overwhelmed by withered yellow weeds.

In the past, as spring tea ended and the scorching summer approached, Xinyang people traditionally practised ‘deep plowing and digging in the heat’, believing that ‘digging in the heat is gold’. They would turn the tea soil while the weeds grew, converting weeds into fertiliser, preventing soil compaction, and letting the roots breathe; the intense sun also helped kill insects and bacteria.

Zhang Chao sighed: ‘In the middle of summer now, who’s going to do that? If you have the time, you can find odd jobs in the city and earn a hundred or two hundred yuan a day.’

● Pure buds picked in a conventional tea garden. In the days before the Qingming festival, prices once surged to 300 yuan per jin.

‘But,’ Zhang Chao added, shifting his tone, ‘the government has also realised the problem and has been calling for change in recent years.’

During the 2023 spring harvest, leaders from relevant departments and representatives of leading enterprises did indeed advocate for ‘optimising the industrial structure’ and ‘promoting one bud, one leaf or one bud, two leaves tea’. This was also a strategic attempt to rescue the market following yield losses caused by drought.

Zhang Chao seems optimistic about this shift in discourse, or perhaps, as a practitioner, he simply has no choice but to hope for change. If standards can be redefined at the policy level, it could bring a transformation to the entire industry.

However, the pursuit of pure buds has accumulated over many years and become an inertia; returning to these standards and embracing tradition will not happen overnight. The ‘little scoundrel’ has muddied the market, and Xinyang Maojian now needs to ‘clear the source’.

But who will do the clearing, and who gets to define the source?

Looking back at the history of standardisation for Xinyang Maojian, the setting of standards and the dominance of the discourse have always belonged to agricultural departments, research institutes, and tea associations. The tea farmers, pickers, and processing workers—the vast majority of the industry—remain as silent as the tea trees themselves. When guidelines such as ‘government-guided, market-led, and farmer-benefiting’ are proposed, while farmers may indeed benefit, the word ‘benefiting’ reveals their passive position. Whether it is ‘hard on the stomach’ or ‘hard on the farmer’, the average consumer and the small-scale farmer are merely NPCs, with no right to participate in the creation of the rules of the game.

Composite Utilisation and Flexible Production

Zhang Chao is clearly not a passive tea farmer; in fact, “tea farmer” might not even be the right label for him. He envisions De Yi Tea Garden as a boutique estate, similar to a fine wine chateau in France—a place with its own distinct style, passed down through generations. Perhaps “tea estate owner” is more fitting. He possesses the vision, the conviction, and the material and social capital to put his ideas into practice. However, the last ten years of establishing De Yi and the five years spent crafting the tea have been far from smooth sailing.

Managing the garden through natural farming methods meant limited yields and high labour costs in the early stages, and breaking into the market proved difficult. At one point, in an attempt to save effort, he used a third-party production line; however, mixing ecological tea with conventional tea led to the detection of heavy metal contamination. This taught him that he needed to build a complete, self-sufficient chain, from cultivation and processing to sales.

De Yi Tea Garden initially experimented with manual tea making, attempting to revive traditional techniques and pursue the authentic taste of Xinyang Maojian. But traditional hand-firing is labour-intensive, offers low capacity, and relies heavily on the skill and experience of the tea master.

Zhang Chao reflects that during the manual stage, whether the tea tasted good or not depended on the mood of the tea master; the output was highly inconsistent. He realised that while garden management can be natural and “whimsical”, production management must be compromise-driven and rational. Consequently, he gradually shifted to mechanised production.

He directed more of his patience toward the garden and the tea trees. No longer limited by a singular pursuit of “authentic” Xinyang Maojian, and mindful of the reality of his 300-mu estate, he began to re-evaluate his specific terrain and raw materials.

● Traditional manual Xinyang Maojian generally follows these steps: raw pan (fixing and initial rolling) → cooked pan (strip shaping and refining) → drying (charcoal firing) → re-firing. This meticulous process is a true test of the tea master’s skill and experience. Due to low hardware costs, it meets the needs of artisanal tea enthusiasts and has persisted in some small mountain estates and family farms. In 2014, it was recognised as part of the fourth batch of National Intangible Cultural Heritage. Photo taken at the Min Family High Mountain Ecological Tea Garden, Cheyun Mountain.

● Another more common processing method is “semi-mechanical, semi-manual”: mechanical screening, fixing using mechanical arms connected to tea holders, manual strip shaping for the “cooked pan”, charcoal firing, and machine sorting. This significantly increases capacity while reducing hardware costs, all while retaining a “handcrafted flavour”. Photo taken at the Min Family High Mountain Ecological Tea Garden, Cheyun Mountain.

Our second brew was a black tea and the third a white tea, both coming from the same tea trees as the previous green tea. I was struck by the rarity of the experience; it is seldom that one can taste green, black, and white teas made from the same variety and the same garden, at the same time and place.

Zhang Chao mentioned that he could later let me try some “winter tea”, also known as “winter slices” (Dong Pian), which uses techniques similar to Oolong tea. Before the garden is closed for winter, the trees are pruned. Leaves that have sprouted after the spring harvest but have not yet fully lignified are collected as raw material. It is a form of waste utilisation, something he makes for his own enjoyment.

Modern tea science categorises tea into six major types—green, white, yellow, oolong, red (black), and dark—based on the degree of fermentation. This certainly helps producers and consumers find their bearings quickly. However, the common misconception that “green tea comes from green tea trees and black tea comes from black tea trees” reflects a cognitive inertia brought about by scientific classification. Whether it is tea production in the regions or consumer understanding, there is a trend toward homogenisation.

Perhaps we can return to specific mountain estates and make tea based on specific materials and seasons. Choosing the right time and place should not simply mean picking one from six.

Out of a desire to cherish the raw materials and explore sustainable production, De Yi Tea Garden gradually developed its own system of “composite utilisation” and “flexible processing”.

Around the Qingming Festival, when the tea trees are in their optimal budding stage, they harvest one bud and one leaf to make Xinyang Maojian—the garden’s premium flagship product. As temperatures rise and the leaves grow faster and larger, production shifts to an alternating cycle of black and white teas.

At this stage, one bud and one leaf can be used to produce Mudan Wang grade white tea; one bud and two leaves produce Mudan grade; and three leaves produce Gongmei grade. By May, the trees essentially stop budding, and the resulting leaves—locally called “flowering leaves”—are used to make Shoumei. For the process and standards of the white tea, they refer to Fuding White Tea.

● Sun-dried white tea. Source: De Yi Tea Garden

The catalyst for “alternating” between white and black tea is the weather.

White tea relies on a pure sun-drying process, which requires appropriate sunlight. If the fresh leaves have been picked but it suddenly begins to rain or remains overcast, that batch is seamlessly converted into black tea. Once the sun returns, white tea production resumes. Zhang Chao calls this “flexible production”—adjusting the rhythm of production according to the weather. By following nature, the process becomes much easier. While they are dependent on the elements, they are not entirely passive.

In 2024, the spring harvest at De Yi Tea Garden again began on 29 March. Unlike the drought of the previous year, this year saw excessive rainfall.

The garden does not harvest during rainy days. After the rain, they wait a day for the moisture to evaporate, but just as they are ready to harvest on the third day, it rains again. Consequently, in the 22 days from the start of the harvest to the Grain Rain (Guyu) solar term—the golden window for the best spring tea quality—they only harvested for 11 days. This year’s green tea yield dropped by half compared to last year.

The pickers were more anxious than Zhang Chao, calling him four or five times a day to urge the “boss” to start harvesting, fearing for their livelihoods and lamenting the reduction in yield. But Zhang Chao felt no regret. Although green tea yields fell, the yields of black and white teas increased. When the tenderness of the fresh leaves misses the window for green tea, they are converted to black and white tea; in this way, nature itself participates in the planning of the product structure. This “flexible production” system demonstrates greater resilience and elasticity in the face of climate change.

● 20 April 2024, the Grain Rain solar term, with heavy rain pouring over the garden.

If De Yi Tea Garden only harvested pure buds, the picking window would be just 20 days. This composite utilisation model extends that to 60 days—three times longer. Raw materials, from one bud and one leaf to the new shoots appearing before the end of May, can be fully utilised, enriching the garden’s product range.

Zhang Chao admits that if he only sold green tea, the estate would be unsustainable, unable even to balance its basic annual expenditures. If this “composite utilisation” model can be promoted and accepted, it may provide a significant boost to the livelihoods of ordinary tea farmers.

● Raw materials of various grades are fully utilised. Source: De Yi Tea Garden

Zhang Chao’s frequent mention of “making full use, at the right time and in the right place” stems from his confidence in the raw materials and the ecological environment of his mountain site. Unlike conventional tea gardens—which operate on principles of standardisation and high yield, using fossil fuels to briefly exploit the land and labour—”making full use” is not synonymous with exploitation; rather, it is an act of following the natural growth rhythms of the tea trees and the forest.

After the two-month peak of the spring tea harvest, the tea gardens enter a season of natural restoration and growth during the summer, free from human interference. Autumn is when the old drought-resistant tea naturally sets seed; to maintain the density of the garden, seeds are collected and pressed into oil for food—another example of making full use, from leaf to seed. After the start of winter, the various plants in the garden have essentially completed their survival and reproduction cycles, and their seeds or underground rhizomes have matured. At this point, workers are arranged to clear the mountain of weeds and invasive shrubs, knocking them down to cover the ground between the tea trees. This helps the trees survive the winter and allows them to accumulate nutrients for the following spring’s budding.

●Autumn: harvesting tea seeds; Winter: the garden closed by heavy snow. Source: De Yi Tea Garden

IV. Clumsy Tea and Clumsy People

Using Zhang Chao’s hopes for “sponge agriculture” to summarise this “sponge tea garden”: vertically, it consists of forest land on the peaks, tea gardens on the slopes, and wetlands in the valleys; the old drought-resistant tea is shaded and sheltered from the wind by tall trees, with ground cover for winter and deep-reaching primary roots below. Horizontally, the tea trees thrive in symbiosis with other local flora and fauna. As the seasons turn, traditional green tea is harvested, while red and white teas are produced in alternation. Spring harvest, summer rest, mid-summer weeding, and winter sealing—a year’s tea work is complete, and a decade’s garden is slowly established.

Zhang Chao possesses a long-termist optimism, exploring and planning the future of this tea garden with immense patience.

The land lease for De Yi Tea Garden is for 70 years, providing a relatively stable and secure environment. I joked: “You’re 50 this year, and only 10 years have passed; you could work until you’re 110.” He replied: “I feel that perhaps at 80, I could still start a new career.” I felt almost envious.

Yet, no matter how independent the micro-environment of De Yi Tea Garden may be, it remains embedded within the larger contexts of climate change, an ageing workforce, and market volatility. This extends to how “Xinyang Tea” competes in the national tea market, and how “Chinese Tea” positions itself and constructs its narrative within the ambiguous process of globalisation.

●As a tea professional rooted in Xinyang, Zhang Chao is frequently organised to visit southern tea regions (especially Fujian Province, where the industry is more advanced) for research and study; every so often, another piece of study material from another tea region appears on his desk.

Zhang Chao says that standing on the peak looking over the tea garden brings both a sense of achievement and a sense of desolation. Where does this desolation come from? The tea in the cup is gone, the conversation has ended, and only a faint fragrance lingers at the bottom.

Xinyang’s community-grown varieties have another name besides “old drought-resistant tea”; some villages call it “local clumsy tea”. When I read the literature, “traditional tea garden management” often refers to “management dependent on pesticides, chemical fertilisers, and herbicides”—chemical inputs have already become the new “tradition”.

It turns out we have long since drifted away from that more ancient “tradition”, those empirical knowledges attributed to the pre-modern era. The new tradition is scientism. To follow nature has, unexpectedly, become an act of counter-tradition.

Thinking of it this way, local tea is indeed clumsy tea, and those who grow it are clumsy people.

In a modern age of alternating accelerators and brakes, they grow slowly and react slowly. Clumsy people nurture the soil; clumsy tea strikes deep roots. They cannot keep up with the changes of the era, yet they withstand the changes of the climate. Clumsily, slowly, resistant to both drought and cold, they miraculously survive.

References

[1]https://www.tianqi24.com/xinyang/history202303.html[2] *Xinyang History and Culture Series: Tea Volume*

[3] Journal of Tea 1994, 20(3): 8–11. Huang Daopei, Lyu Lizhe, Wei Hui (Tea Experiment Station of Xinyang, Henan Province 464100). Research report on the breeding of new tea cultivar Xinyang No. 10.

[4] Analysis of climate resource changes in Xinyang and their impact on the yield of Xinyang Maojian tea, Lu Yiyan, Xinyang Tea Meteorological Key Laboratory, Xinyang Meteorological Bureau, Xinyang, Henan 464000, *China Tea*, January 2024, Vol. 46, No. 1

[5] Characteristics of disastrous climate in tea production in Yanhe District, Xinyang, and countermeasures, Wang Qingzhi, Zhai Shumei, Kong Qian, *China Agricultural Technology Extension* 2020, Vol. 36, No. 1

[6] Research on value chain profit distribution of the tea industry in Xinyang City under the background of sustainable development—Taking Village H in Yanhegang Town as an example, Wang Junpeng

[7] One bud, one leaf: returning Xinyang Maojian to its essence, Yang Changxi, *Xinyang Daily*, 10 April 2023, Page 001

Foodthink Author

Zhang Xiaoshu

A landless youth creating randomly and wandering far and wide. Graduated from the Nanjing University of the Arts in 2016. Focuses on artistic intervention in rural areas, eco-feminism, and sustainable food and farming.

Acknowledgements

Zhang Chao, De Yi Tea Garden

Working group of the first TBB Community Architecture and Culture Season

Zhao Min, Wang Hao, Yan Fangfang

Unless otherwise noted, all other illustrations were taken by the author

Editor: Ze’en

I. From “One Bud, One Leaf” to “Single Bud”

II. The ‘Little Scoundrel’ That Hurts the Farmer

IV. Clumsy Tea and Clumsy People

Published by Foodthink