Scarlet Robe & Pecan Tarts.
There are different types of Red Robe, the Da Hong Pao (大红袍). There’s the one cultivated from the mother tree around Wuyi, which is forbidden now, there’s blended Da Hong Pao, and there’s the single cultivar variety that we serve here. I mean, Wuyi is quite a wide area, some tea claim to be from Wuyi even if it’s like the next village or something …
So kind of like Wagyu.
Yes, exactly like Wagyu.
A staff interrupted our conversation with a teapot and tiny tea cups. She wanted Thibaut to try the tea as the replacement for the current gyokuro on their menu.
A much-needed break.
We’d been going on non-stop for the last 10-15 minutes.
My question was: “how do I know your Da Hong Pao is the real Da Hong Pao? In fact, how do we even know any $1000 tea on the market is worth $1000?”
I had the recorder on, but he spoke so fast in his French accent I decided to compile our conversation via memory. A full 60min brew of our conversation will not fit.
Thibaut is the general manager of Yugen Teabar and (soon) Yugen Dining. Before this, he was the tea sommelier of Vue De Monde. And before Vue De Monde he’s worked in Europe at places you might’ve heard of, like Alain Ducasse, the Fat Duck, the ones with Michelin macarons.
He told me he got into tea because he’s fascinated by the history, how the Chinese dynasties affect the way tea was consumed (peasant-born Ming Emperor said ‘to hell with wanky cake tea’ and replaced it with loose leaf tea), how fermentation and oxidation are two different things, and how roasting and terrior affect the taste of tea.
I’m nodding along and thinking to myself: I’m in an A24 movie! So this is how Asians feel when they encounter a non-Asian who speaks better Mandarin.
I met Thibault during a shoot last year. I’ve been shooting for chef Stephen Nairn (ex-Eleven Madison Park) from Vue De Monde, to Scott Picket’s Estelle, to Matilda in St Kilda, to now Omnia which sits in the middle of Capital Grand along Chapel Street.
During our last shoot, Yugen was just opening next door, and my first thought of a French leading a modern Asian tea bar was: really? Followed by a PTSD flashback at the Melbourne Fat Duck when a cup of Pu-erh was going for $100.
I don’t really like to write about my clients (or the shop next to one), and before this sounds like a paid article, I want to stress that the reason I approached Thibaut, is the same reason why I wrote about Uminono: pure curiosity.
(Also, if I don’t write about whatever tickles my fancy, why am I writing? If I don’t flex connections, what else have I got at my age? )
At this point in time, I have no doubt that a non-Chinese will know more about Chinese tea than a Chinese.
Simply by talking to him I could sense the intensity, the bulging vein when I said something pedestrian, the eye-roll about Lune croissant. He could’ve taken the easy way out, like being a French wine sommelier, but he did not.
Thibaut is well aware of the stigma.
He said some Chinese come in with their minds made up to not like it, some were more patient than others, and in the end, it’s all about building relationships and gaining trust. Those who really like tea, will return.
He’s not lying, the last couple of times I came in to buy their pastries, the place was packed with Chinese. According to Thibaut, 85% of customers are short-term Chinese tourists, all thanks to the Little Red Book. (No, not the Mao one, 小红书 is basically the Chinese Instagram.)
Speaking about pastries, according to my own book, Yugen serves the best tarts and domes in Melbourne. I know John the head pastry (also ex-VDM) and while I know ‘deconstruction’ is so 1989, their vanilla slice is the best twist since Beatrix’s Bananingtons. I bought them for my wife’s birthday, and the most impactful of all this year is the pecan Jesper.
The tea bar can appear intimidating, with the hard-edge stalactite forming around the space, like an extension of the house of Atreides in a Dune movie set. Yet, I suspect this is what ‘normal’ looks like in Shanghai, Beijing, Hong Kong, and Singapore.
It’s not supposed to be your wooden bamboo teahouse.
I mean, even the local market was expecting something traditional. Thibaut said a local newspaper requested him to do a ‘hand over head’ pouring of tea with a gaiwan during an interview, because that’s how they think Chinese tea should look like to Australians.
Yikes.
In a way, the media did not know where to place Yugen.
The north is always about the struggle. The planet is dying, that’s why we need to eat bio-dynamic lacto-fermented carrots. Helvetica is evil so we’re writing menus with our bare hands, the struggle! Queue, queue for a souvenir and solution to our constant battle with evil landlords, capitalism, sexism, ageism - a $12 loaf of sourdough dark rye. Wash the sourness with the sodium of our tears.
Whereas the south, the south matches the tourism ads and travel brochures. Think Bondi Sydney, think shut up and take my money. Overcharge me for all I care, champagne for all! Life is a constant holiday. Golden confetti for you, you, and you. Think unapologetically shiny, beautiful, prosperous, and white.
The reason Yugen escaped most people’s radar, I suspect is because it is so centrally ‘south’. The Brad Pitt dilemma - a character actor trapped in a movie star’s body.
Thibaut lives in Collingwood, and prefers its multiculturism.
In fact, he and his partner1 was going to move to Asia before you know what.
We both agree that the best Japanese restaurant in Melbourne is Aka Siro.
He rolled his eyes at the mention of Lune, again.
On tea drinking, his advice is to start small.
Don’t spend money on that $1000 pu-erh if you can’t even tell the difference.
It’s like wine - experiment with a variety of green, white, and black, learn to identify the profiles and once you pinpoint your favourite, go deep.
*pours tea*
Teabags do not necessarily mean bad tea.
In fact, it means consistent tea.
*pours tea*
For him, the interesting thing about loose leaf tea is how different they are year to year. There isn’t a fixed way to brew it.
Most importantly, when you drink tea, slow down. observe the tea leaves.
*pours tea*
I ask Thibaut if he is optimistic about the tea market in Melbourne. Once the question left my mouth I felt my soul leaving my body.
The answer is obviously yes, you idiot, tea is not your average tiktok trend, it is older than your ancestors’ ancestors.
I guess the real question is can the perception of the tea market change in Melbourne? Will Melburnians ever see tea like the Chinese - not something to get you going and start your day and smash through a checklist, but an activity to slow down and connect?
Can coffee carry a five-minute movie scene like this?
Yes, but I imagine things like you are walking through a forest and,
there are leaves on the ground and,
it just had rained and,
the rain has stopped and,
it is damp and,
you walk and,
somehow,
that is
all in this tea.
Jake from After Yang (2021) impersonating Werner Herzog from All In This Tea (2007)
I was watching After Yang2 and Jake’s exchange with Yang about tea sounded so familiar that I had to double-check that the documentary was real (which makes Collin Farell’s impression the more impressive).
In a way, I think the third wave boom of filter coffee - trying to taste the notes, the cherries, the stone fruits and spices, the ritual of gooseneck kettles, are an emulation, an attempt to catch up with tea.
I bought a canister of Da Hong Pao. It’s probably cheaper to buy it online, or ask my relatives, but you know what, we’ll never know if it’s a blended or single variety. Just like the durians I bought for my parents, the best ones get exported nowadays.
There’s also what I call the right-here-right-now tax, and sometimes it feels good to pay that tax.
Can you really call yourself a real Asian when you’re spending more on Columbian coffee than Chinese tea?
And no, filter coffee will never be as sexy as tea.
I asked about the fragrance they use.
The last time I bought the tarts, the scent from the carry bags permeated the car and it almost got me in trouble with my wife. He smiled and explained they use two - one at the entrance, and the other near the bar.
The customer is god is in the details.
He told me the pecan tart was on the house and left.
I went back and bought another one.
Thibaut’s partner manages Gaea - the only restaurant I was interested in for the last few years. I made a booking after our chat and managed to score a table for two. So yes I received a free tart and Yugen a shout-out, but who’s the real winner here?
If Everything Everywhere All At Once is popcorn - the best Asian martial art/sci-fi/extroverted movie of the year, then After Yang is unironically tea - the best Asian movie of the year for architectes/photographer/introverts. One is a full body massage with an all-Asian cast hammering down the ASIANS HAVE FEELINGS / WE ALL HURT DIFFERENTLY / YOU’RE DAMAGED BECAUSE I’M DAMAGED message for the child; the other is acupuncture, a slow burn of dealing with grief, memory, and existence for the parent, with the lingering sensation of ‘what does it really mean to be Asian’? If anything, watch the tea scene - one of the most beautiful movie exchanges about food in recent years. Watch the memory bank scene. Watch it before it gets plagiarised to death by the big banks.