Spinning Gold from Straw

I have yet to fully immerse myself in the subject, but there is a fascinating case here of entrepreneurial grit, reconstructed myth, and the rebranding of a tea once considered among China’s worst.

Hunan tea bricks (chazhuan) have enjoyed a recent revival, perhaps an echo of the province's tea industry boom in the 16th century. Back then, urgent marketing needs pushed Hunanese tea toward the Tibetan Plateau and the Mongolian steppe. In those regions, it was typically cut with heavy ingredients like milk, butter, fat, and salt—additions that likely balanced the harshness of this oxidized tea from central China. At the time, one Ming Dynasty official described the product as "bitter, harmful to health, and in fact, not deserving of the name 'tea' at all."

Later, tea originating in Hunan—including blends cut with superior varieties—was traded in massive quantities with Russia, Eastern Siberia, and parts of Western Central Asia.

The economic reforms of the New China did not leave the tea market behind. Traditional needs, paired with the whims of the modern Chinese market, created a bubbling consumer atmosphere that sent the tea trade soaring, generating new opportunities for remote agricultural regions and, occasionally, full-blown economic bubbles. I first encountered Hunanese tea bricks with "golden flowers" several years ago in Xi'an. They seemed to pop up on every corner, having been nonexistent just a year prior—much like the new consumer trends that emerge daily in China, only to be replaced by a neighboring stall a few months later.

While the sellers' claims that these were "golden flowers" or, at best, pollen from the Camellia sinensis plant itself were hardly convincing, the memory of the product resurfaced for me this morning. A brief search revealed that these are actually a graceful mold of the species Eurotium cristatum, many of whose relatives are better known for spoiling improperly stored food.

Naturally, the word "mold" shouldn't scare anyone. Like species of Penicillium, Aspergillus, and other siblings in the craft of enzymatic decomposition, a fungal presence can contribute significantly to a flavor profile—as we know from cheese, miso, and wine. However, the sudden appearance of Hunan's golden tea makes one wonder if this isn't another fine case of a fortunate storage accident followed by a clever rebrand, marketed as an ancient tea with superlative health qualities.

Indeed, responding once again to the ebbs and flows of global consumerism, the probiotic trend has been harnessed to give a healthy sheen to a relatively inferior, "spoiled" tea. Nutritional studies (which cynical tongues might link to the traditional symbiosis between Hunan’s academic and economic communities) may confirm a link between "golden flower" tea and improved health metrics, naturally tied to the hot topic of gut flora.

There is no reason to assume that inoculating Hunan tea bricks with golden mold spores—even if it is a relatively new technology—is harmful, or that it is merely a bad tea in a shiny wrapper. However, the hesitant migration of Eurotium cristatum into more prestigious tea regions, most notably Yunnan, could well take root. This might create a new range of products with a more complex flavor profile than before, much to the delight of local "compost tea" enthusiasts.

Historically, Hunan tea bricks were considered a rather inferior product, fit primarily for sale to the "barbarians" across the border. For generations, the tea gardens of central China fueled the nomad tents of Inner Asia with strong, functional tea, before the industry declined during the early Communist era.

The rise of the new Chinese consumer culture, perhaps aided by a lucky storage accident, has led to the ascent of a new type of tea with a firm presence in the market. Yet, despite the fact that Hunan tea is essentially an inferior product that fails to impress well-steeped connoisseurs, it remains a beautiful example of how, at the intersection of market needs, entrepreneurial energy, health trends, and a little help from (perhaps) funded research, even bad tea can sprout golden flowers.