The Body of Tea

After seeing and smelling, you must touch

In the previous Tsuru, we gradually deconstructed tasting to understand what really happens in a cup.

We distinguished astringency from bitterness, discovered umami, studied bitterness, observed the color of the infusion, and then learned to understand the aromas of tea.

But something is still missing.

The mouth is not only equipped to recognize flavors.

It also perceives pressures, temperatures, friction, contractions, fluidity, and a multitude of tactile sensations.

When you say that a tea is "silky," "thick," "watery," "velvety," or "round," you are describing something very concrete: the way the liquid is physically perceived in your mouth.

This is precisely what the concept of texture covers.

What exactly is the body of a tea called?

In tasting vocabulary, the word "body" is practical but relatively broad.

It describes the impression of presence that the infusion produces in the mouth.

Imagine two perfectly neutral liquids.

The first resembles water: it seems extremely fluid and light.

The second has slightly more viscosity: even without a different taste, the mouth immediately notices that the sensation is not the same.

With tea, the phenomenon is much more subtle, but the idea remains.

An infusion may seem:

light, when it leaves little tactile impression;

supple, when it moves easily without being aggressive;

round, when no angular sensation dominates;

silky, when its passage gives a particularly smooth impression;

thick or dense, when the presence of the liquid seems more significant;

enveloping, when a sensation persists over a large part of the mouth.

These words do not constitute scientific units. They belong to sensory vocabulary.

But they attempt to translate very real perceptions.

Texture does not come from a single molecule

It would be tempting to find a simple explanation: one substance would be responsible for roundness, another for thickness, and a third for silkiness.

The reality is much less convenient.

The tea infusion contains a complex set of molecules extracted from the leaves: polyphenols, amino acids, caffeine, carbohydrates, polysaccharides, proteins, minerals, and many other constituents.

These compounds do not act independently.

They interact with each other and with our saliva.

The final sensation therefore depends on both the composition of the leaf, its processing, and the way we prepared it.

This is why two teas from the same plant, Camellia sinensis, can give extremely different textures.

Polyphenols: when texture becomes drier

We have already encountered polyphenols in the Tsuru dedicated to astringency.

They are particularly interesting here because they show how deceptive the boundaries between taste and texture can be.

Astringency is often mistaken for a flavor.

Yet, it corresponds above all to a tactile sensation of dryness, roughness, or tightening in the mouth.

Polyphenols can interact with salivary proteins and temporarily alter the lubrication of the mouth.

You therefore do not simply perceive "something on the tongue": you also perceive a change in the mechanical behavior of saliva and the surfaces of the mouth.

At a low level, this tension can give structure to the tea.

At a higher level, it can make the cup dry, grippy, or rough.

This is one of the reasons why a tasting cannot be described only with the four or five basic flavors.

Polysaccharides: a more discreet piece of the puzzle

Polysaccharides are large carbohydrate molecules naturally present in plant tissues.

Some may be found in the infusion.

They have attracted the attention of researchers notably because they can interact with polyphenols and alter certain sensations related to astringency.

Studies on food systems show that some polysaccharides can attenuate the perception of astringency and contribute to sensations described as smoother or more enveloping.

However, caution is necessary.

It would be an exaggeration to claim that "polysaccharides automatically make tea creamy."

The final perception depends on a much more complex system.

They are among the possible players in texture; they do not constitute a single explanation.

Saliva: the invisible ingredient of tasting

Here is an element we rarely think about: we never really taste tea alone.

As soon as it enters the mouth, it meets saliva.

And saliva is not simply water.

It contains, among other things, proteins and glycoproteins that provide part of the lubrication of the surfaces of the mouth.

Certain molecules in tea can interact with them.

This explains why two people do not necessarily describe the same infusion exactly the same way.

Sensory perception depends on the product, of course, but also on the taster.

The temperature of the mouth, the flow rate of saliva, the state of hydration, and even what was consumed previously can alter the experience.

The body of tea therefore is born from an encounter: that of the infusion with the one who drinks it.

Why do some teas seem almost creamy?

The word "creamy" is regularly used for certain teas, notably particularly mild teas or preparations very rich in tactile sensations.

We must understand this term correctly.

It does not necessarily mean that the infusion has the physical viscosity of cream.

The brain gathers different information: fluidity, absence of roughness, perceived sweetness, temperature, aromas, and tactile persistence.

Together, they can evoke a familiar texture.

Sensory vocabulary often works by analogy.

We thus speak of "velvety" tea even though there is obviously no velvet in the cup.

The word describes an impression.

This distinction is important in a book dedicated to tea: a sensory description is not a chemical analysis.

The raw material matters

Texture begins long before the infusion.

It takes birth in the leaf.

The cultivar, the age of the harvested leaves, the season, the growing conditions, and the chemical composition of the raw material influence the content of the infusion.

A harvest rich in young shoots does not have exactly the same balance of constituents as a harvest containing more mature leaves.

This is one of the reasons why we dedicated several of the first Tsuru to the plant, harvesting, cultivars, terroir, and seasons.

These chapters were not independent.

They now explain why the cup we hold today has such a color, such a fragrance, such a flavor, and such a texture.

The body of tea is therefore also the culmination of everything that happened before the water touched the leaf.

Processing also alters the sensation

Withering, rolling, oxidation, fixation, drying, roasting, or aging profoundly alters the leaf.

They transform or make accessible different compounds.

Tea categories therefore do not all have the same chemical profile or the same behavior in the mouth.

But beware of a frequent temptation: there is no universal texture for green tea, black tea, or oolong.

A green tea can be light and sharp, but another can seem full-bodied and almost oily.

A black tea can seem powerful and drying while another will seem mild, supple, and round.

The tea family gives clues.

It is never enough to predict the entire cup.

The infusion can completely transform the body

This is probably the most useful point for the taster.

You can greatly alter the texture of the same tea simply by changing its preparation.

Increase the amount of leaves: the concentration of dissolved substances increases.

Significantly prolong the infusion time: the balance of extracted compounds changes.

Increase the temperature: certain substances are extracted more quickly.

The result will not simply be "stronger."

It may be denser, more bitter, more astringent, more enveloping, or, conversely, lose the balance that gave it its elegance.

This is why the Tsuru No. 006 dedicated to time and temperature remains one of the fundamental chapters of this collection.

Infusion parameters do not only set the aromatic intensity.

They also shape the feel of the tea.

Water contributes to the body of the cup

We also find our Tsuru No. 005 dedicated to water.

Water makes up the vast majority of a cup of tea.

Its mineral composition influences the extraction and the interactions between the compounds present in the infusion.

Unsuitable water can flatten a cup, harden certain sensations, or mask part of its finesse.

However, it would be unwise to establish a simple relationship such as "more minerals = more body."

The influence depends on which minerals are present, their concentrations, and the prepared tea.

Once again, we are faced with a balance, not a magic formula.

How to learn to feel texture?

We tend to swallow a drink quickly and concentrate our attention on its taste.

To perceive the body of a tea, you must slow down.

Take a small sip.

Do not immediately try to identify a floral, fruity, or woody aroma.

First ask yourself how the liquid moves.

Does it seem to almost disappear immediately?

Or does it give the impression of enveloping the tongue?

Do the sides of the mouth remain lubricated or do they become slightly dry?

Does the sensation seem fine, full, smooth, rough, supple, or taut?

Then swallow.

Observe what remains.

With a little practice, this observation becomes as natural as recognizing bitterness.

Do not confuse intensity and richness

This is perhaps one of the most important lessons of this part of the book.

A very intense tea is not necessarily rich.

An over-steeped infusion can deliver a tremendous amount of material, a lot of bitterness, and a lot of astringency without presenting a truly harmonious texture.

Conversely, a more discreet tea can reveal several successive tactile layers: a light entry, a fuller mid-palate, then a soft and persistent finish.

Tasting becomes interesting precisely when we stop asking:

"Is this tea strong?"

and start asking:

"How does this tea occupy my mouth?"

Vocabulary Must Remain at the Service of Sensation

Tea enthusiasts can sometimes accumulate words to the point of making tasting intimidating.

That would be a mistake.

Saying that a cup is "silky" is only useful if the word really helps you remember and compare a sensation.

You do not need a dictionary of fifty adjectives.

A few simple oppositions are enough to start:

light / dense

smooth / rough

dry / enveloping

supple / taut

With experience, your vocabulary will naturally enrich itself.

The goal is never to impress the listener.

The goal is to better understand what you are drinking.

A cup is beginning to become a complete landscape

Look at how far we have come since a few chapters ago.

We have met caffeine.

Then astringency.

Umami.

Bitterness.

We have looked at the color.

We have breathed in the aromas.

And we have now touched the tea.

Yet, the tasting is not over.

Because one question remains when the cup leaves the mouth:

what lingers?

A returning fragrance? A sweetness? A dryness? An impression that disappears immediately or accompanies the taster for many seconds?

This is where another fundamental dimension of tasting begins: the tea's length and persistence on the palate.

© Cap sur le Thé — Tsuru Collection 鶴 — No. 031