The Korean Way of Tea Growing Tea Drying Tea Brewing Tea Loving Tea Grades of Korean (green) tea The day known as Gok-u (Grain-rain) usually falls on April 20. The tea picked before this date, the first budding, is known as Ujeon (before rain).
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The day known as Gok-u(Grain-rain)usually falls on April 20.
The tea picked before this date, the first budding, is known as Ujeon (before rain).
Ipha falls on May 5 or 6, and tea gathered between Gok-u and Ipha, mostly the second budding, is known as Sejak.
Tea gathered after Ipha is known as Jungjak.
The most ancient Chinese character for tea was荼t’u (the bitter-tasting sow-thistle). Then Lu Yu in his Classic of Tea (Ch’a Ch’ing) written in 780 created
by removing one horizontal bar from 荼. It is pronounced cha or chai throughout almost the whole of China, but in Fujian province, around the port of Amoy, a 't' took the place of the initial 'ch' and so we find the pronunciations ta or tai.
The earliest suppliers of tea to the Dutch and English traders in Indonesia came from Amoy and taught them the name with an initial ‘t’.Hence the West European pronunciations with ‘t’ as in ‘tea,’ while Russians, Indians and Portuguese use a version with ‘ch’ (chai etc). In Korea the form ‘ta’ is often used (as in ‘tabang’ tea-room) but Koreans say ‘nok-cha’ for green tea and the more correct form is ‘cha.’
The ‘Way of Tea’ should be pronounced ‘cha-do’ in Korean
by the Ven Cho-Ui (1786-1866)
If I drink one cup of Jade Flower, a breeze rises beneath my arms,
my body grows light and I ascend to a state of supreme purity.
The bright moon becomes my candle, my friend,
a white cloud becomes my cushion, my screen.
The sound of bamboo oars and wind in pine trees, solitary and refreshing,
penetrates my weary bones, awakens my mind, so clear and cool.
With no other guests but a white cloud and the bright moon,
I am raised to a place far higher than any immortal.
Now I will sing for joy:
Born into this world, when winds and waves are fierce, to preserve my health, what could save me if I abandoned you? I cherish you, frequent you, drink you, you keep me company, on mornings when flowers bloom, on moonlit evenings, I am happy, no complaints.
In my heart always there is fear and care: Life is the origin of death, death is the source of life. Keep control of your inward heart, for outward things wither and fade. . . . Does that mean a wise person must enjoy water, a benevolent person live in the mountains?
But if one ponders deeply the way in which inner and outer are made one by tea, even without seeking that kind of pleasure, it gradually arises. That is precisely what is meant by “My heart’s tea.” How should I ever again go seeking outside of my heart?