Visiting a Bangkok Chinatown tea shop (K. Mui Kee Tea)

 

I've not been exploring Bangkok Chinatown tea shops much, for a long time.  One set of shop owners are so familiar and pleasant to visit with that I kept going to the same shop over and over, really appreciating seeing them, with lots of varying teas already on offer there.  That's to Jip Eu, my favorite local shop, located near the Hua Lampong railway station.

Their building is under repair, so they're closed, so I visited another local shop to buy tea for a gift within the last month (K. Mui Kee Tea, nearby there).  I wrote about trying a very pleasant Dan Cong from them here.

the owners of that other shop, Jip Eu

I just went back to buy more tea for gifts, and visited with the owner and two other guests there.  This is about that.  That shop owner had always seemed pleasant before, and it was a nice chance to visit more.

I don't want to say or imply too much here about the theme of that shop, or general value for what's there, or what else they carry.  But I can cover how trying those teas went, and that paints some of that picture.  You could assume that some of what I'm saying applies more broadly, that these represent their selection, or what I'm saying about value would hold true for others, but I'm not implying that.  

Inconsistency is one of the interesting parts of visiting Chinatown shops.  A version might be great, or value might be exceptional, then for the next tea it can all shift.  It's not that the shop owners can't judge teas well; my take is that working through very diverse forms of sourcing the outcomes naturally vary.  But who knows about likely causes.

Wild origin black tea:  this is what I already gave away for a gift, and what I was there to buy again.  I had only smelled the dry leaf before, but you can get some sense of teas that way.  We actually tried the tea there (not first; this isn't in order).  It is good.  

Maybe the flavor list is a little unique, not matching some standard type expectation, but the flavors were positive, and they balanced well, as the rest of the character did.  I suppose one might interpret something like limited intensity across some flavor range or light body feel as flaws, but to me it was a solid, pleasant, good quality tea.  I would expect that by shifting brewing approach you could adjust for whatever didn't seem as positive, to you.  

I can't really cite a clear flavor list, based on trying that tea yesterday, not focusing on that.  I think it included some dried fruit, and warm tones were what you would expect for black tea, maybe along the line of cacao.  I didn't notice citrus or roasted yam or sweet potato, but that's not to say that I wouldn't if I didn't try it again, and focus in more.

Cost was 500 baht ($15) for 100 grams.  That's pretty good for good quality, novel, distinctive tea like that.  It's not rock bottom pricing, as can occur in Chinatown shops, but you shouldn't be looking for that in a tea version of a type that's all but completely unique.  If the idea is to find a steal on a main type, like standard rolled Tie Guan Yin, that can work.  Really Thai teas should sell for less, and Chinatown shops tend to sell Chinese teas instead (of course).

a Longjing varietal tasting (covered here)

Longing:  this is a good test case for evaluating any Chinatown shop, isn't it?  If you don't already know why it's not important, but this is a pretty standard type.  It's more or less my favorite green tea.  Flavor tends to be nutty, or to resemble toasted rice, with some floral range, and not too much vegetal or grassy flavor (conventionally).  A range of flavor not too far off cashew can tend to pop, integrated with floral range in a unique way.  The effect can be a little like new car smell, but in a very positive sense.  I get it that comparison makes limited sense.

This version was pretty good, pretty far up the scale.  By that I also mean not at the top of the scale, but to me that's fine, if pricing matches.  It was selling for 1000 baht per 100 grams ($30), which to me seems fine for a pretty good version.  Often the best examples can be more like 50 cents a gram, or at least the normal best that you tend to find.

This is the kind of tea that would divide people with that developed preference.  Some would naturally really want to experience that most intense, most type-typical flavor set, and intensity.  But then they would already know buying that quality level for 30 cents a gram isn't how that tends to go.  To me pretty good versions bring across most of the same appeal.

two other Dan Cong versions, more oxidized and roasted (left) and lighter (right)

Mi Lan Xiang Dan Cong:  another good test case / standard type.  Theirs was pretty good.  I didn't catch a selling price, so I won't be able to evaluate if it's good for the price-implied quality level.  If it cost 500 to 600 baht per 100 ($15-18) grams it would be a good deal; if it cost 1000 you might be able to find as good a version for slightly less somewhere else.

That's the most standard type of Dan Cong, another oolong range type.  It's the name of a flower, honey orchid, so it's supposed to taste similar to other versions, and that flower, and I think this did.  It often also tastes a little like ripe peach.  I don't remember if this did or didn't, but I think I came in late in the steeping sequence, so maybe the most intense range had already passed.  Really high quality versions tend to express great character deep into a long round of steeps, but for normal priced versions (25 cents a gram or so, or less) the positive intensity fading over a limited number of rounds is fine.

that might've been between these in style, not so oxidized and roasted or as light

Dian Hong, a version with a lot of buds:  this is my own personal favorite black tea type, Yunnan black.  I tend to like fine leaf versions best, or even from good sized leaves, but buds heavy versions would be in higher demand, and considered more positive, to many.  It tasted like these should taste, and the feel / body seemed fine.  It was heavy on honey and some cacao flavor range, with good complexity and depth beyond that.  

it looked like this, a China Life Dian Hong reviewed in 2016 (the Mei Leaf predecessor)

If this had been a personal favorite style it would've really stood out among the other teas.  I do like it, but for whatever reason I like the leaf based variations more.  They might give up a bit in terms of forward flavor, traded out for more experience of depth, and the conventional flavor range shifts, not so much tied to honey and cacao but more into roasted sweet potato or yam.  For people who love Jin Jun Mei this wasn't so far from that taste range; they would also like it.

Since I'm guessing an appropriate value, even for not knowing cost, I could keep on with that.  This is pretty good quality tea, in a desirable, in-demand style, so a little higher cost range would seem normal.  But black teas tend to be priced lower than Dan Cong oolong, so pretty much everything I sad about the Mi Lan Xiang version also applies directly here.  This probably does cost a little more than the wild origin version ($15 / 500 baht per 100 grams), and that would be fair, related to buds heavy content being distinctive and adding appeal (demand).  To me 1000 baht ($30) per 100 grams would seem a little high, even though in online Western outlets that would still be about right.  Thai Chinatown shops tend to sell at a good value, although that's not always true, and you could still get a "bad deal" on teas in places.

Da Hong Pao (Wuyi Yancha):  a version we tried was fine.  Flavors and other character was in the right range, and it brewed multiple rounds consistently and positively.  We talked about in-house charcoal roasting, related to trying it.  There's a lot that brought to mind, and it was odd sharing how that theme is interesting, and represents distinctive vendor capability, and also serves as a red flag.  I'll add a short version of that here, and not say as much about this tea version.

Per my very limited understanding it's not unusual for Taiwanese oolong vendors to buy essentially unroasted, unfinished tea versions and then roast them to a desired level.  It requires a high degree of skill to do that well.  Producers roast teas under controlled and specific conditions, multiple times, matching the roast input to the existing tea potential.  It's not like just heating them up a standard amount for a standard time, and then they're good.

That's atypical though, again per my understanding.  Most Western vendors would just buy oolongs as finished teas, already roasted.  They would have been processed to match the other processing inputs, the original material character and oxidation level input.  So why else would a vendor need to add roast input?  For two main reasons, and maybe for others as well.

One is to periodically re-roast teas stored over a long time period to restore flavor balance, and compensate for some limited moisture input from storage.  This is a bit touchy, because in modern times, again per my understanding, vendors just seal the teas better to begin with, stored at an appropriate moisture content level, and an older concern about accumulated moisture contact drops out.

A last reason is to cover up flaws in teas.  Vendors might mix a few material inputs that more or less don't completely match with each other (although in the best case they would balance each other perfectly), and cover up inconsistencies in character by roasting it all quite a bit.  Bridging this category and the last, if a tea went completely dead from improper storage roasting might add flavor, even though it's not ideal to let a tea lose most of its original taste.

So one might look on claims that in-house roasting is a positive and important input with some suspicion.  Depending on how it's done, and why, it could be that.  That Da Hong Pao was pretty good, so that's a good sign.  Pretty good is all relative, and let's skip expanding on that for now, and the value part.  I'm also skipping that Da Hong Pao is usually a branding term for either mixed input teas or something random, maybe just Shui Xian, since the most original forms are usually sold as Qi Dan or Bei Dou instead (related plant types).

Another shou pu'er we tried a little of seemed ordinary, but fine.  I'll skip all the extrapolation here, about really placing quality, or guessing about price; we just tried one round of it.

K. Mui Kee Tea; they sell those tea stuffed dried tangerines, a cool thing to try

Other concerns; is this a typical Chinatown shop experience?

It's kind of not.  If shop owners want to try teas with you then they will, maybe even tasting all sorts of things, without really worrying about what you buy in the end.  More often they wouldn't.  A shop might be set up around that theme, as Sen Xing Fa is (a tourist oriented shop not too far away).  These older style, owner ran local shops tend to sell tea at a better value than tourist oriented shops with more staff.

a meetup at Sen Xing Fa; not so many shops would be open to hosting that kind of thing

Or shops might visit and make tea for locals they already know, the case of me visiting Kittichai at Jip Eu.  That's like visiting an uncle, to me.  I buy tea every time, just because it's fair to, and I'm usually there for that, but they'll often brew teas they don't even sell, just to share the experience.

I think this shop owner is unusually nice.  I always had that sense before, even though I may have never tried much brewed tea there.  His reputation is really positive in the local tea community.

So I seem to be saying that the owner is nice, tasting there is no problem, the teas are good, and they are also a good value.  That visit definitely implied all of that.  But I would expect some degree of inconsistency to come up, for some versions to be better than others, and for value to vary.  That's normal for Chinatown shops.  You hedge your bet in having that experience (of inconsistency) when the owner really gets tea, as he seems to, but Chinese tea is a really broad subject.  Even for vendors in the business for decades they tend to know some types better than others, and to have better developed sourcing for some range.

To me this isn't really a significant negative part of exploring teas through Chinatown shops.  Value might not be great all the time, or tea quality, but the normal range is pretty favorable, for better shops.  The worst experiences teach you, and the cost for that instruction tends to be relatively low.

Meeting those other guests was very pleasant.  They weren't so far along the tea exploration path, but they had significant prior exposure, and a fantastic attitude about it all.  They were really nice. 

Tea enthusiasts tend to end up in a strange place related to it seeming normal that people have already tried a half dozen version of dozens of types, and have memorized a couple of books worth of background.  Of course I don't judge people based on how they might do sitting down to write a book about tea off the top of their head.  

In a sense I envy people newer to the interest.  They have so much exploration range to get to, so many instances of trying something new and interesting for the first time.  If you start out trying basic quality tea versions you can gradually drink better and better tea, for years, without it even costing that much.  Just exploring broadly, or horizontally across types (if you like that spatial analogy), you can keep trying pretty good teas indefinitely.  Chinese teas do tend to be unusually diverse, and favorable, with a unique high end related to potential quality level, but it can work in relation to other origins as well.

I can make that more specific.  You could spend 15 to 30 cents a gram on a lot of pretty good teas, and drink different types and characters of versions for years, before it seemed in order to push on to higher quality level, to spend more, in order to really have a more complete experience.  Or you could start "at the top," either way would work.  I just don't think it would work well to explore a lot of the best quality teas out there, and then get around to trying much more basic versions after that.

All of these teas we tried are in the middle, and favorable in character related to that, well above average for quality level and pleasantness.  I could never drink teas better than them, for the rest of my life, and I'd be fine with that.  But people naturally approach all of that in different ways, and it's natural for a perspective on quality levels and what one values to change over time.

The Three Horse Chinatown shop.  I bought some tea there not long ago, but haven't tried any, there or of what I bought (again for a gift; I tend to give away a good bit of tea).  I'd have to recommend going to these other style shops instead, where you can meet an owner and try some tea with them.  Or in Sen Xing Fa it's more just different staff, but they're set up for tasting as part of a routine sales process.

What does it mean when tea versions aren't type-typical?

 

an atypical wild origin Thai oolong, left, and a more standard Oriental Beauty (DFMR) version

This is something I've been giving a lot of thought to lately.  I just re-tried a Thai oolong that doesn't match an established oolong style closely (based on Assamica material; one might expect that), and realized that it's quite pleasant in a completely different way (than related to standard oolong range).  

I would've said that in the review (from a month or so ago), but somehow what it means to me has changed in that month, or at least I'm working back through it again.  Looking back that tea was reviewed along with a Jin Xuan cultivar based Dong Fang Mei Ren (OB) version; that's not completely typical either.

Often how I frame ideas in very specific communication helps, when I respond to a group post theme, or when I'm discussing an issue with a friend or producer.  Drawing on that form, this is what I've recently said to a producer about this subject, about that oolong:

I just had the rest of that oolong with breakfast, and it's quite pleasant.  One thing I've been considering lately is that my expectations about teas being "type-typical," about matching styles I expect, may limit how much I can appreciate some versions.  I've been considering this for a long time, but I'm seeing it in a new way recently, related to having a lot of experiences with that theme.

I don't mean that I described that tea negatively, when I shouldn't have.  What I mean is that everyone's expectations would be colored by that, to some extent.  How well people like teas that don't match a specific style closely may relate to maturity of their tea experience.  It would take a long time to learn how different styles are expressed, then even longer to move past that as a main framework for evaluating teas.  I'm not finished with the second part, I don't think.

For more background, I've been using Moychay tea versions as comparison in some recent posts, because they sent some samples to review (as in that post).  Some of them are very pleasant, but not completely type-typical, usually only related to a single aspect not completely matching, so not that far off.  Or in that case presenting an OB version made from a different plant type (variations of Qing Xin are more normal, I think, but this isn't a key point in this content, and maybe that's not right).

I try to express that this kind of variation isn't necessarily negative, since some people would like many kinds of changes better, but at the same time a very close match to expectations could be positive in a limited way, in that it's what someone is probably often trying to buy.  And if they want to have the most typical experience related to building up awareness of types that works better.

That Assamica based oolong included a touch of atypical roasted input flavor, and the feel is structured differently.  It's all exactly what one would expect from wild-origin, different plant type tea (from variety Assamica instead of Sinensis, as most oolong is produced from).

The wild origin material theme really changes a lot.  In many cases oolongs are made from controlled genetics cultivars, for example from Jin Xuan, from #12 in a series of identified, cross-bred tea types (most typically produced as a light style, rolled form oolong).  Even teas made from traditional, older, conventionally established plant types--oolongs from Taiwan, Anxi, Fujian, and Guanzhou China, as types of Tie Guan Yin, Wuyi Yancha versions, and Dan Cong--would tend to be a limited range of things.  Cultivar genetics wouldn't be controlled, but plant types would tend to be similar, or would vary across a narrow range (which is two ways of saying the same thing, those last statements).

A plant growing out in a forest doesn't change it's genetics, but plant types can evolve and drift a bit as different plants die and are naturally re-initiated.  They can cross-breed themselves, more or less.  Maybe having a lot of other varying vegetation around changes outcome quite a bit, as many believe, but that's something else.

So far this is heading towards an assumed conclusion that we should also appreciate aspects and styles as they are, instead of filtering our enjoyment into narrow style and type preferences.  But why?  That kind of works, but neither extreme seems necessary, or intuitively right.

Processing inputs are something else, that we would consider differently.  Producers evolve production processes over time, grouped into distinctive approaches and styles, and in the best cases what works best gets carried on, and what doesn't is filtered out.  So these traditional final-outcome styles represent that, as the most possible outcome that producer feels that they are able to achieve.  

Broad preferences for styles and aspects can still vary over time.  For whatever reasons a lot of higher level oxidation and roast input to different types of oolongs, from different areas, has been getting unselected, with lighter styles becoming more dominant.  This isn't a recent trend; Marshal N wrote quite a bit about this in his early "A Tea Addict's Journal" blog.  That was mostly critique of modern "nuclear green" Tie Guan Yin being unfavorable, not as pleasant as traditional more oxidized and roasted versions, and not as favorable for your stomach (per his take, but there's a lot of truth to be considered in almost everything he says, or said).  But he also must have made other comparable observations about other types and styles, at different points.

I recently tried a Dan Cong that was made in that older style--assuming that one accepts what I've described as a broadly applicable and accurate generalization, which probably doesn't completely work--and it was very favorable.  That review was here, which compared that to a much lighter style Dan Cong version.  So why don't producers stick with earlier styles that seem so pleasant?

that second one is a little light, right?

Maybe it relates to preferences shifting over time.  Maybe the additional processing steps add difficulty, without bringing additional sales draw, in terms of increasing demand and selling price.  I don't really know; I would expect that causes and conditions are complicated.

This concern makes teas falling within limited types and styles being "type-typical" a moving target.  Could Assamica (plant type) material based oolong ever become conventional?  It seems unlikely, but it could become more established.  Could a broad demand for a lot of more oxidized and roasted oolongs become common again?  Sure, that seems more likely.  Or maybe that never actually dropped out, but producers and vendors were able to sell really light versions for a long time, in high volume, even though perhaps a broad sub-set of tea consumers didn't ever want that.

My overall favorite oolong producer, Wuyi Origin, favors a fairly light style, in general.  But then they also produce oolongs in a range of different styles, related to all of the inputs, so they can serve a broad audience with different preferences that way.  They are pretty good about accurately describing styles of what they sell, stopping short of a long flavor list breakdown, which I think makes sense.  People only need a sense of what they are buying, not a complete and detailed interpretation, which can vary by person anyway.

What else comes up related to these recent reviews; what can I pass on from them?  At times one aspect that seems like a very limited negative, perhaps even a flaw, can seem to affect a final judgment in a disproportionate way.  I think it's possible to focus too much on an ideal, and hold expectations that are too prone to ranking experiences, instead of just appreciating what is positive.  

As an example, a black tea recently didn't express complexity across a broad flavor range in the earliest couple of infusions, and then as it evolved later that filled back in (very recently; I just posted that while editing this).  The tea became very balanced and positive.  I'm not sure why it brewed like that, over those rounds.  

Evaluated against expectations of superior quality, specific style, and balance across all dimensions that could seem like a significant flaw.  But then maybe in some cases expectations evolve to make allowance for just this kind of thing, in terms of personal favorites.  Let's go with an example of that.

Dian Hong is my favorite range of black tea, Yunnan styles, which tend to not be all one thing, even though people would use the category bundling in different ways.  Sometimes versions include a lot of pleasant depth, but not as much pronounced forward flavor intensity.  I can still absolutely love versions like this, even though it sort of represents a significant limitation.  

a Moychay Dian Hong (right), recently compared with a Thai black tea

Such a tea might express pleasant cacao, dried fruit, roasted yam, or roasted sweet potato flavor, but in a limited intensity, with a lot of mineral depth (to add some specifics to that).  My take is that the Assamica material used to make such tea is often used to make pu'er in the spring and fall, and a summer harvest, that is weaker in intensity, is often used to make that black tea type.  So a spring harvest version of the exact same tea would be more complex and intense; it would be an example of a limitation.  But in some cases the tea can still work well anyway.  In a strange twist it would still be "type-typical," the theme I've been covering, because this is a normal way for Dian Hong to be.

So maybe I'm more open to that limitation because I expect it, based on having a range of related earlier experiences?  That seems strange.  As I experience it the tea style still just works.  The extra depth adds a different kind of complexity.  

To be clear here I'm using "depth" to mean that I automatically associate parts of the tea flavor experience in a physically represented way, with forward, intense, aromatic flavor aspects (fruit, floral range, whatever it is) as higher, and mineral or earthy "base" flavors as lower, and deeper.  I don't think that imagined spatial analytic form is necessary, or that it adds much to the experience, it's just how I've came to "see" tea experience.

pressed Da Hong Pao oolong (reviewed here); some novel presentation themes really work out

Conclusions

Where am I going with this?  As I try more examples that aren't completely type-typical I feel as if I'm changing how my own expectations relate to my own enjoyment of teas.  Calling that "maturity" imposes a value assessment framework I really don't intend (in a comment earlier here), but there's not another readily available concept to use for this.  I'm associating this with a part of a natural experience curve, and of course others would experience their own understanding and preferences shift in different ways instead over time.

Earlier in my tea exploration and communication I would ask others, through this kind of writing, to add their own perspective in comments.  That essentially never happens.  But I'll stick with these ideas, and see if they keep changing over time, and if my experience of different ranges of tea styles does.

As I try the rest of that oolong version, the later steeps, past a half dozen in count, I'm really enjoying it.  The feel structure is interesting, evolved to be rich and full, and smooth.  The flavor is unique.  A roasted input aspect gives it an almost almond-like character, with other vegetal tone one might interpret in different ways, positively as roasted grain, or barley, and more negatively as cured wood (depending on how they see it).  

It's nice.  But it absolutely doesn't match any typical form of oolong I'm familiar with, and I've drank quite a bit of oolong.  

To put this conclusion another way, I think it's possible to get stuck in the habit of looking for standard tea type experiences, and to experience minor flaws, or even what isn't present, as overly important, which reduces your ability to appreciate what is there, and is positive.

Vietnamese Assamica based oolongs, reviewed here

Mi Lan Xiang and old bush Wuyishan black / red teas

 

I'm reviewing two teas from Moychay, provided by them for review (in part related to helping with editing, but still, many thanks!).  

I've been using their samples (they sent a good bit) as comparison for other "local" South East Asian teas, but it will be nice to just compare two of them instead.  All the other versions were good.  There were some issues related to them matching the standard type form perfectly, to trueness to type.  When a tea is made from wild origin material that seems to automatically come up; the starting point in the material itself varies (at least one of them was, and maybe two).  This concern led me to write about that theme separately, about trueness to type, in another post.

For a market-style vendor like that buying in significant volume and selling at moderate pricing could also be issues.  Of course I'm not going to overthink any of that here; I'll just describe the teas.  I'll add their product descriptions after writing the tasting notes.

Before that, the type-typical theme largely drops out here.  I would've had comparable teas before, but I still come in without the pre-determined expectations of a main set type.  It might come down to whether or not these express tartness, which I really don't care for in black teas, typically.

Honey Orchid Black Tea (105 Euro or $121 USD for 50 grams; that seems wrong, doesn't it?)

Grown in the highlands of Meizhou, Guangdong at 800 meters above sea level, this black tea comes from old bush tea gardens using the Phoenix Dancong cultivar. The gardens are free from pesticides and chemical fertilizers, relying instead on natural forest humus and ecological pest control. The Phoenix cultivar naturally carries the honey–orchid aromatic profile that gives this tea its name.

The tea is handpicked as one bud with two leaves during the early spring, when the tea plants have accumulated nutrients throughout the winter. The fresh leaves are processed using traditional black tea techniques. After natural sun withering and indoor resting, the leaves are gently rolled in bamboo machines, fermented in a high-humidity room until the signature honeyed aroma emerges, and slowly baked over wood fire to lock in flavor and aroma.

The dry leaves are wiry and dark with golden tips. The brewed liquor is clear and orange-red, with a rich honey fragrance and soft orchid notes. The taste is smooth, sweet, and lingering, combining depth and elegance.

Over $2 a gram for black tea?  That seems wrong.  50 to 80 cents should be the normal high end range, and any vendor charging over $1 / gram is usually messing with you.  If a tea type is rare enough and demand is high enough then the cost would climb, with no real ceiling on that, but a black tea couldn't be good enough for me to see that as decent value for anything.  It was pretty good, but there is no pretty good value related to that pricing.

I can clarify what I mean by that by citing a comparable listing from another favorite vendor, from Wuyi Origin (a business ran by a family who I'm friends with a member of, Cindy, to be clear about potential bias):

Wuyi Origin Mi Lan Xiang Black Tea 蜜兰香红茶 (2026)  ($17.60 for 50 grams, so 35 cents a gram)

Mi Lan Xiang, or “Honey Orchid Fragrance,” is one of the most celebrated cultivars of Phoenix Dan Cong. While most Mi Lan Xiang teas are crafted as oolongs, this unique version is processed as a black tea, combining the fragrance of Dan Cong with the richness of Wuyi-style fermentation. The result is a rare and elegant expression that blends the sweetness of Phoenix Mountain with the smooth body of Fujian black tea.

This 2025 harvest comes from Daping Village, where the 40-year-old Mi Lan Xiang bushes grow naturally in clean, high-altitude gardens. The leaves are fully fermented on-site to preserve the honeyed aroma and smooth mouthfeel. The liquor is rich, mellow, and entirely free of bitterness. As soon as it is brewed, a soft sweetness fills the air, reminiscent of warm honey and ripe fruit. It is a tea that soothes and delights in equal measure.

Comparing a highly atypical, high quality producer direct source is a little unfair.  These types of sources barely even exist, as Western facing outlets, but when one does it has a competitive advantage, for selling their own unique teas without any middleman resale costs.  But this is the right range, just on the low side of cost, for what that tea would be.  Normal vendors would sell it for 50 cents a gram or more, instead of 35.  Just as a guess, for as good as I expct that it probably is more than 50 cents per gram pricing would still be normal.

Maybe within Europe it's a problem to buy directly from China, in lots of places.  There are import duties to be considered, and testing protocols for imported goods.  This citation is not offered here as a competing option, more to identify the normal pricing range.  It probably is a fairly similar tea, but then one would have to try both to compare them.

Black Tea LAO CONG HONG CHA, Old Bush Red Tea from Wuyi Mountains, Chinese tea from Wuyi, Fujian Province (Red Tea), 60g (12 Euro or $14 for 60 grams)

Old Bush Red Tea is produced from 40-year-old Meizhan and Shuixian tea bushes in the southern foothills of the Wuyi Mountains, Fujian Province. The tea is cultivated at an altitude of 500 meters in from 2006 year certified sustainable agriculture tea gardens that are part of a 4000-acre estate managed by the producer.

Harvested in April and May, this tea is hand-picked, focusing on two or three leaves per sprout. The leaves undergo a traditional black tea processing method, including withering, oxidation, rolling, fermentation, drying, and refinement. The result is a tea with tightly rolled leaves and a robust appearance.

When brewed, this tea yields a bright red liquor with a sweet and mellow flavor, characterized by notes of caramel and a rich, full-bodied texture. The unique processing reduces polyphenols by over 90%, creating the distinctive red hue and smooth taste associated with black tea.

This costs just over 10% as much as the other version.  Could that first version pricing be a site listing error?

The first version seems better in quality level (related to trying them before adding this section), and Dan Cong material is in pretty high demand, but that pricing still seems wrong.  At 50 cents a gram it would be a costly tea, and at $1 / gram at the top of the high side, for the normal range.

Review:

Mi Lan Xiang Hong Cha / Honey Orchid Black Tea:  a little tart.  This tea is still fine, very exceptional.  Floral range is unique, heavy and distinctive, but also clean and refined (at only the first infusion).  Maybe that does taste like honey orchid; it's hard for me to tell, even though I've drank a lot of Mi Lan Xiang Dan Cong.  The tone is warm, so it leans a bit towards lavender.  

A fruit input is really exceptional.  It's not far off peach, which does come up a good bit in Mi Lan Xiang Dan Cong, but it might also have a citrus edge.  It could be broader than peach, including a bit of apricot as well (or maybe it's more apricot, with a touch of peach).

Feel is good, balance is nice, and refinement is a strength.

Lao Cong Hong Cha Wuyishan / Old Bush Red Tea:  not as intense, but this seems to express more depth.  It includes cacao; that's nice.  And more of the roasted yam / sweet potato / butternut squash range.  I'll try more of a flavor list next round; these flavors integrate, so it's hard to separate them apart.

This seems to be framed along the classic more forward, sweeter, lighter flavor aspects (the first) and a version including warmer tones, more mineral, and lots of depth (this tea).  The first includes a touch of tartness, which means more to me than it probably does to most people.  

In general I might like the second more, since Dian Hong is my favorite type (or rather it's the other way around; Dian Hong is my favorite type because I love the experience of depth and certain forms of complexity in black tea).  But it's not as good, in at least one other sense.  This Wuyishan version includes a limited enough forward flash of flavor and sweetness that it might seem like a gap, at this stage.  But then this is only the first infusion.  And it stands out a lot more for it being brewed alongside a tea that emphasizes that initial floral hit.

MLX #2:  this falls into a great balance.  All of the tones warm a good bit, and tartness backs off.  The intense floral range moderates a bit, but there's still plenty there.  It's not easier to separate the flavors into a list this way, but the complexity balances well.  It still includes warm floral tones, which probably does include rich orchid flavor, and fruit, now emphasizing a warm mineral base more.

One bright tone stands apart from the rest, and gives it a nice counterbalance.  It's like that juicyfruit gum flavor, or not too far from teaberry.  Or given this context one could interpret that as floral range instead of fruit, even though I've done the opposite here.  

Feel is good.  It includes a hint of dryness along with the structure, but that doesn't come across as a flaw, in the type and level, along with the rest.  It just has an astringency structure, which works.  It's still a soft and rich tea, nothing like a more challenging version of Assam, even within the better orthodox whole leaf range.

Wuyishan:  this is softer and richer, with more depth.  Again the flavor range seems to express a gap; there is a lot of warmer, deeper tone, and some more forward flavor (cacao?), but it's not continuous along the entire range in between.  One could interpret part of this as tasting like soft and warm malt (ovaltine or malted milk ball, not Assam malt).  Something along the line of roasted sweet potato fills in flavor depth.  But in between that initial flavor hit and the depth that comes later there is a short pause in the experience.

Brewing this stronger would offset that effect.  I've brewed these for 15 seconds or so, not long.  Intensity is still pretty good (they're brewing at 7 grams per 100 ml gaiwan), but I expect the profile would seem to "fill in" at a higher intensity, for this version.  The other was already intense enough.

Someone more critical of this tea's character might say it tastes like cardboard.  That's partly right, but it's an effect coming from heavier mineral and limited somewhat earthy tone.  I would imagine that positive or negative bias would have one "seeing" either the better parts that work well or else what might come across as gaps or flaws.  I try to see it as it is.

It's a bit strange but I tried mixing the last of both, to see how it would merge and blend.  In a limited sense it is better than either version, but it's also less distinctive and interesting, so in another sense both lose what makes them work.  

MLX #3:  I gave these just over 20 seconds this round, to see how that changes them.  This version had been intense using a shorter time, so it may be a little strong.  

It is.  That works though; the pronounced warm floral tones really pop, supported by pleasant fruit.  I think this is just what someone would be looking for in a Mi Lan Xiang black tea version.  Even that touch of early tartness is normal, as I recall from other versions.  Depth is really nice in this, the way warm mineral tones fill that in.  Flavor complexity and refinement are exceptional.  Some might not love that touch of structure and dryness in this version, but for others that could be a main strength.

Sweetness is a main positive, obviously.  I've not explicitly said that, and just describing sweetness related flavors doesn't necessarily connect with that, even though it does here.

Wuyishan:  this is better for being brewed stronger, more appropriate for this tea version.  A hint of cinnamon joins the rest, filling in a nicely complex flavor balance.  The rest has transitioned.  A touch of cacao grounds the rest, and there is still roasted yam and limited dried fruit input in this (or maybe it has evolved to where those stand out now, and there were only related flavors in the first two rounds, nothing identical).  

Simply brewing this a little stronger did seem to resolve an overall balance / range gap described earlier.  Or the evolution across rounds did; it would be hard to be sure.  

That seems like enough for notes.  These will shift a little more across two more positive infusions, and you could stretch them for two more beyond that.  I would probably mention another flavor aspect for both, or a different balance of what came earlier.  But the basic story has been told. 

Later editing note:  a liqueur or perfume like character stands out in the Mi Lan Xiang version, a good indicator of tea quality, and something that's pleasant to experience.

I really liked both.  The style of the second (Wuyishan origin tea) suits my main preference better, but the strengths of the Mi Lan Xiang version really stood out.  It would be normal for people to judge it as a better quality tea version.  But really their character just varies, looked at another way.  The Wuyishan version got a slow start related to brewing a full flavor range complex character, but that was just an early round anomaly, and could have related to it working better being brewed slightly stronger.

The only anomaly or concern here is the $2+ per gram pricing of the Mi Lan Xiang version.  That's a lot; probably too much.