Iâ??ll admit it outright. I know very little about Pu-erh. I have hardly ever come across it and, until recently, it was hardly common in the UK. Now it has become a tad more widespread, although it fails to match the levels of popularity that it seems to enjoy in the US.

Much of what I know about Pu-erh I owe to tea books such as the Tealover’s Companion, and to an excellent online resource, www.pu-erh.net , run by a real connoisseur named Mike Petro.

Taking time to delve through his site is the best way to find out about this tea, which is often shrouded in myth. For those in a hurry, a one-sentence summary is that Pu-erh is aged tea, which matures over time to acquire an earthy character. Originally made in Yunnan out of the large leaves of the local tea bushes, it has more than a thousand years of history. According to traditional Chinese medicine, it also has several health benefits, which partly derive from the microbes that become active in the tea as it matures.

Pu-erhs can either be blackâ??made out of oxidized tea leavesâ??or green, made out of leaves that have been heated to stop the oxidation process before being dried. Both then undergo a lengthy aging period.

Like Bordeaux and unlike humans, green Pu-erh mellows with age. Black Pu-erh, by contrast, is mellowed by oxidation so it is easy to drink even at young ages. Connoisseurs like Petro say that naturally aged green Pu-erhs have by far the most intriguing flavor. As I lack the palette of tastes required to appreciate these teas in full, I thought Iâ??d make my wallet happy and go for a black Pu-erh.

I bought some mini Tuochaâ??small bowls of compressed tea that look like tiny birdâ??s nestsâ??from Special Teas. This morning, I brewed the tea according to instruction, by steeping a mini bowl for a six oz cup for five minutes (after rinsing the leaves). The cup looked fabulous. A rich, voluptuous coffee brown with a strong earthy smell. I said out loud that it smelled like mud, so my husband immediately piped:
“Why would you want to drink that?”

It took me a while to explain that it was a lovely muddy, earthy smell. Even when I thought I had managed to get the message across he remained stubborn in his determination not to try it. Of course he was prejudiced, but, for once, he may have had a point. The tea smelled better than it tasted. It was very robust in the mouth, smooth and initially sweet, with a solidly earthy aftertaste. But it was also simple, in your face. It lacked complexity, which left me slightly unsatisfied. Great execution but no layers, like a reliable painter from the Italian Ottocentoâ??a De Nittis landscape, perhaps.

Maybe this is the reason Petro says that green Pu-erh is better? Or perhaps I need to brew it differently. I have asked him to recommend brewing methods, and I am going to try the Tuocha again tomorrow, Petro-style.