A Guide to Tasting Lapsang Souchong

No tea divides a room quite like lapsang souchong. Pour a cup and some will lean in, delighted by the campfire smoke and resinous pine; others will recoil, convinced someone has emptied an ashtray into the pot. It is the most polarising tea in the cabinet, and also one of the most fascinating, a black tea deliberately dried over smouldering pinewood until it takes on an aroma unlike anything else you can drink. Learning to taste it properly, rather than simply reacting to the smoke, is one of the more rewarding journeys a tea drinker can take.

Approached with curiosity rather than suspicion, lapsang souchong reveals itself as a tea of real depth and craft, its smoke merely the dramatic overture to something more layered underneath.

Where the smoke comes from

Lapsang souchong hails from the Wuyi mountains of Fujian, and its distinctive character comes from the drying method: the leaves are withered and dried over fires of local pine, which infuses them with that unmistakable smoky, resinous aroma. The style is said to have arisen from necessity, a way of quickly drying tea, and became prized in its own right. The best examples use good base leaf and restrained, careful smoking, so the smoke frames the tea rather than obliterating it.

That sense of place, the specific pine, the specific hills, the specific hands, is central to appreciating it. It is terroir expressed through process rather than soil alone, and anyone drawn to that idea will find understanding terroir in specialty tea a natural companion to this piece.

How to taste it

The trick with lapsang souchong is to look past the smoke to what lies beneath. Let the first wave of campfire aroma settle, then notice the tea underneath: a robust, malty black tea with notes that can range from dried longan and pine resin to dark chocolate and a faint sweetness. Good lapsang has a smoothness and a lingering, warming finish; harsh, one-dimensional smoke is the sign of a lesser leaf or heavy-handed drying. Those who would rather taste a Chinese black tea without the smoke might begin with our guide to tasting Keemun, a quieter study in the same family.

• Smell first — let the aroma announce itself before you sip.
• Sip and wait — the smoke leads, but the tea’s sweetness and body follow.
• Note the finish — good lapsang lingers, warm and resinous, without turning acrid.

This disciplined, attentive approach is the same one that rewards any fine leaf. If you enjoy building that kind of tasting vocabulary, working through a guide to tasting oolong tea and a guide to tasting pu-erh tea alongside this one sharpens the palate considerably; oolong teaches nuance, pu-erh teaches depth, and lapsang teaches you to read past a dominant note.

Lapsang souchong is not a tea to sip absent-mindedly. Give it your attention and the smoke becomes a doorway rather than a wall.

Brewing it well

Lapsang is forgiving but rewards care. Use water just off the boil and a moderate steep; over-brew it and the smoke turns bitter and dominant. Start with a shorter infusion than you think you need and adjust upward. Good leaf will stand several infusions, each revealing a little more of the tea beneath the smoke. It takes milk surprisingly well, becoming something almost like a smoky, savoury breakfast tea, though purists will want it clear to appreciate the full range.

Getting the fundamentals right, the water, the temperature, the timing, matters as much here as with any fine tea, and the art of brewing tea properly is worth revisiting before you open a good bag of lapsang; the difference between a harsh cup and a beautiful one is often a matter of thirty seconds and a few degrees.

Grades, and how to spot a good one

As with any tea, quality varies enormously, and lapsang souchong suffers more than most from cheap, heavy-handed production. The lowest grades are made from coarse, inferior leaf smoked aggressively to mask its shortcomings, producing a cup that is all acrid smoke and little else, the sort that gives the tea its reputation among sceptics. A fine lapsang, by contrast, uses good base leaf and restrained, careful smoking, so the smoke frames rather than smothers the tea beneath.

Look for whole, twisted leaves rather than broken fragments and dust, and trust your nose: a good lapsang smells of clean woodsmoke and pine resin, warm and inviting, not of tar or ash or something chemical. The very finest examples, prized by connoisseurs, can be so delicately smoked that the pine is almost a suggestion, letting the tea’s natural notes of dried longan, malt and honey come forward. These are a revelation even to those who thought they disliked the style.

Price is a reasonable guide here, as careful smoking over pinewood is labour-intensive and good leaf costs more. It is worth buying a small quantity of a well-regarded tea from a merchant who can tell you where it came from and how it was made, rather than a cheap tin off a supermarket shelf. Store it, as you would any black tea, away from light, heat and strong odours, though lapsang’s robust character means it keeps its smoky signature longer than more delicate leaves.

Pairing lapsang thoughtfully is one of the surest ways to win over a doubter. Its smoke, which can seem overwhelming on its own, becomes a sophisticated counterpoint alongside the right food. It is a natural match for smoked and cured things, a plate of smoked salmon, a slice of good ham, a strong blue cheese, where like calls to like and the tea’s resinous edge feels entirely at home. It stands up beautifully to dark chocolate and to rich, savoury dishes, and some cooks even use it in the kitchen, steeping the leaves into a broth or a cure for a subtle smoky depth. Met at the table rather than in isolation, lapsang souchong often reveals itself to be far more versatile, and far more likeable, than its fearsome reputation suggests.

An acquired pleasure worth acquiring

Lapsang souchong will never be for everyone, and there is no shame in finding the smoke too much. But for those willing to sit with it, to taste past the first dramatic impression to the malty, sweet, resinous tea underneath, it offers a depth and a distinctiveness few other teas can match. It is a drink with a real point of view, and pairing it thoughtfully, with smoked fish, with dark chocolate, with a quiet evening, only deepens the pleasure. It is exactly the sort of characterful, considered drinking our Dining & Drinks pages relish. Brew a cup with care, give it your attention, and let it change your mind.