Maybe it was its intensely dark leaf, which promised chocolate and flowers like a good Valentine�??s Day. Or maybe it was the name. Keemun. It could have been the hero of a Kipling book. The chemistry of love is always hard to rationalize and I would be hard pushed to pinpoint exactly what attracted me to this big China black one December day of fifteen years ago.

Like every coup de foudre, I remember the moment I spotted the large bottle green canisters on the second shelf of the teashop where I had just started working, sandwiched between Yunnan and Chingwoo, above the smoked teas. Keemun, Keemun Congou and Grand Keemun. They held promises of riches, of silks and spices and imperial courts.

I gave in to impulse and bought some plain Keemun, which was the cheapest of the three. Even with my employee discount, it still was outrageously expensive for a student�??s budget. But this secret guilt only amplified my pleasure, as I went home and carefully brewed a pot. My cup was delicate, sweet, ever so slightly floral, fragile, elusive. It marked the beginning of an enduring love story.

I have drunk Keemun for longer than I have known my husband and I have yet to tire of it�??which gives some hope to the husband too. Over the years, my finances allowed me to progress to better Keemuns, broadening my taste palette and my gustatory pleasure. I went around evangelizing family and friend with the zeal of the just converted and even had some success when my staunchly Indian-drinking mother embraced the cause.

So after venturing in the unknown territory of Pu-Erh, opening my Keemun caddies today was like coming home after a long and satisfying journey. Whoever said familiarity breeds contempt must have had a very unhappy home. I like to think it breeds a comfortable, embracing warmth. And it is to this warmth that I gave myself over as I brewed two cups of tea�??a Keemun by Mariage Fréres and a Keemun Imperial by Sans & Sans.

The Mariage Fréres liquor was a brilliant, reddish brown, with a distinctly floral aroma. Fresh on the tip of the tongue, it grew richer and more layered as it travelled through the mouth, ending in a sweet triumph.

The Sans & Sans cup was slightly clearer in color and has a more restrained floral note with a fleeting hint of something else�??chocolate? Surprisingly, though, its flavor was a lot more floral than the other Keemun, carrying that note all the way through the long, long finish.

Two Michaelangelo masterpieces, where vigor and complexity magically blended into simple beauty.

As it often happens to me with Keemun, the actual cup was even better than my recollection of it. What made me happiest today, though, was to see my devil of a toddler pick up the Mariage Frères caddy, bury his nose in it and give a loud �??Ahhh�?� of approval. I like to think of it as the start of his own love story with tea. May it be as enduring and pleasurable as my own.