Types of Tea Explained: From White to Pu-erh — and How to Taste the Difference

All true tea comes from one plant — Camellia sinensis. From that single species, farmers and makers in China, Japan, Taiwan, and beyond shape a wide spectrum of styles. The differences are not about added flavors, but about timing and craft: how a fresh leaf is withered, heated, rolled, oxidized, fermented, and aged. Small choices — a longer wither, a hotter pan, a cooler storeroom — change the color in the cup, texture on the tongue, and the way a finish lingers.

This guide walks you through the prominent families — white, yellow, green, matcha, oolong, black, pu-erh (shu and sheng), and dark hei cha — with a focus on their origins, processing, and how to read what your palate is telling you.

Think of oxidation as the axis. Minimal oxidation keeps flavors light and grassy; deeper oxidation brings out fruit, malt, and warmth. Then comes fermentation — a microbially driven step in styles like shu pu-erh and several dark teas — which adds depth, earth, and a soft, almost brothy feel. 

White Tea

White tea is the quiet origin point: minimal handling, sun- or air-withering, and a gentle dry. The style took shape during the Song dynasty, when prized bud plucks were dried to capture their aroma without the use of heavy heat. The classic heartland is Fujian — think Fuding’s silver buds and downy early leaves — but Yunnan’s larger-leaf cultivars give a bolder, honeyed profile under the same light touch.

In the cup, you get pale gold liquor, light body, and calm sweetness — hay, cucumber peel, white melon. Fujian lots often feel gauzy and floral; Yunnan whites add stone fruit and a rounder finish. From our side, Silver Needles and Moonlight White show the range — one all bud and feather-soft, the other more amber-toned with a faint duskiness from slower withering.

Yellow Tea

Yellow tea is a near-lost craft with a single, defining step: menhuang, or “sealing yellow.” After fixing like a green tea, the warm leaf is wrapped to rest, allowing gentle, enclosed oxidation. The result is a smoother, sweeter profile than green tea, without grassy intensity. Historically, court demand kept the style alive; today, it is rare and made in small runs in Hunan, Sichuan, and Anhui.

Expect clear straw-yellow liquor, silky texture, and notes of steamed grain, sweet pea, and soft stone fruit. We use two contrasting examples to map the style — Bright Matter for a light, spring-bright expression, and Dark Matter for a deeper, toastier register with a longer aftertaste.

Green Tea

Green tea preserves the leaf’s fresh precursors by stopping oxidation early. China tends to use pan heat — a wok, drum, or hot air — which lends the tea toward chestnut, toasted bean, and orchid. Japan relies on steam, which keeps color vivid and the profile marine and sweet-savory. Leaf form also matters: flat-pressed, needle, curled, or rolled all change extraction and texture.

In China, Dragon Well (Longjing) is the reference point: pan-fixed, hand-pressed flat, clean and nutty with a silky mid-palate. In Japan, Gyokuro is shade-grown before harvest; the shading concentrates amino acids, giving umami density and a satin mouthfeel. For something modern, our Emerald GABA demonstrates how controlled oxygen exposure and careful drying can yield a mellow fruit flavor without compromising the freshness of the green family.

Matcha

Matcha is ground tea — but its craft begins weeks before a mill turns. Gardeners draw shade over the plants, pushing the leaves toward a deeper green and higher theanine content. Leaves are steamed, the veins removed to make tencha, then stone-milled into a fine powder. In the bowl, you taste everything: no filter of leaf shape, no teapot. That directness gave matcha its place in Zen monasteries and samurai culture — focus, poise, wabi-sabi restraint.

Whisked thin (usucha), matcha should feel bright and lifted; whisked thick (koicha), it becomes dense, glossy, and long. For best results, use soft water, a pre-warmed bowl, and a quick “M-motion” whisk to keep the foam fine and the texture even.

Oolong

Oolong is the spectrum’s middle — partially oxidized teas shaped through repeated tossing, resting, and heat. The craft lives in the details: how long the leaf withers, how vigorous the bruising, when the maker applies low, medium, or charcoal heat. In southern Fujian’s Anxi, greener Qing Xiang oolongs are lean, floral, and dew-fresh; in northern Fujian’s Wuyi, rock oolongs (Yancha) develop a mineral structure and spice under deeper oxidation and roasting. Taiwan extends the range into high mountain gardens where cool nights keep aromatics sharp.

On the palate, greener oolongs bloom with orchid, gardenia, and young pear; amber and roasted styles move toward caramelized fruit, cinnamon, cocoa, and a dry, cliff-like minerality. Texture is the tell — silk for Anxi, velvet-granite for Wuyi. Our Tie Guan Yin gives a textbook Anxi read: jade liquor, lifted perfume, a crisp, mineral snap at the end. Resonance GABA, crafted from Qi Yun leaves under oxygen-controlled conditions and gently dried, presents with a calm fruit aroma and a steady, relaxed finish — an evening oolong designed for clarity rather than a buzz. For tasting, short infusions reveal layers; each steeping shift alters the weight and spice, while the core aroma remains true.

Black Tea

Black tea — called “red tea” in Chinese — is fully oxidized. The method is simple to name but subtle to master: wither the leaf to concentrate aroma, roll to break cell walls, allow controlled oxidation, then dry. Stories of early smoked teas from Fujian’s Wuyi mountains point to lapsang’s place in the trade routes of the seventeenth century; from there, black tea traveled with merchants and empires, changing how the world brewed and blended.

In the cup, look for an amber to copper color, a medium to full body, and flavors that range from malt and dried longan to cocoa, baked apple, and soft spice. Tannins should be firm but civil. Our Golden Needles highlights a bud-heavy sweetness and a supple texture; Ancient Heights — a high-elevation Yunnan black tea from mature trees — brings mountain air clarity with notes of caramel and longan. Western brews bring out weight; gongfu sessions show how the malt, fruit, and grain take turns, steep to steep.

Pu-erh

Pu-erh begins as maocha — sun-dried, loose Yunnan tea — and then splits into two broad paths. Sheng is the traditional, naturally aging route: cakes or loose leaf stored to mature over years, moving from fresh hay and apricot toward camphor, resin, and a clean, sweet depth. Shu is the modern, accelerated path developed in the 1970s: piles of moist leaves undergo managed microbial fermentation (wo dui), producing an already dark, earthy tea within months.

Sheng emphasizes energy and lift; young examples are vivid and pine-bright, while older cakes grow calm and incense-like. Shu emphasizes comfort — with a smooth texture, low astringency, notes of cacao, damp wood, and dried dates. Storage defines outcome: dry, airy rooms keep lines clean; wetter conditions push speed but risk muddiness.

Soft Power ’07 (sheng) shows aged poise without heaviness; Vintage Stout ’07 (loose shu) pours chocolatey and round; Obsidian ’15 (cake) sits in the middle — polished, steady, and ideal for daily brewing. For clarity on technique, compare short, high-leaf gongfu infusions with a longer Western mug; you will notice how compression, rinsing, and heat influence the extraction process.

Hei Cha (Dark Tea)

Hei cha is a family of post-fermented teas beyond Yunnan — made in Hunan, Guangxi, Sichuan, and a few other provinces. Leaf is fixed, formed, and then allowed or encouraged to ferment under controlled humidity. The profiles are diverse, but a theme runs through them: a broth-like texture, savory-sweet grain, and a clean, woody calm rather than sharp acidity.

Within Hunan’s traditions, you will meet Fuzhuan, famous for golden flowers (Eurotium cristatum) that appear during warm storage; and massive, compressed logs like Qian Liang that age slowly from the inside out. 

Titan Log ’12 leans on that structured, gently sweet profile; Golden Flowers ’17 shows the clarity and warmth that make this branch feel restorative. Brew with patience and soft water; the best cups feel like a walk in a cedar room after rain.

Quick Comparison Table

Reading the Spectrum

Tasting across types is easier when you focus on three things. First, body — how the tea sits on your tongue. Whites are airy and slip away; blacks and dark teas carry weight and glide. Second, shape — where flavor peaks. Greens rise in the front palate; oolongs arc from nose to sides; aged teas settle low with calm. Third, finish — what stays after you swallow. A good tea does not shout; it resolves. Switch to water if the edges feel harsh, shorten steeps if bitterness crowds the center, and try small cups to observe how the aroma moves.

Tea is a living craft. Makers adjust with the weather; storage nudges what time will do anyway. When you learn the families, choices get simple — not rigid, just informed. Brew a Fujian white on a bright morning; save a Wuyi oolong for a cool night; pour shu when you want comfort without effort. Let origin and process guide you, then let your own senses do the rest.

You can browse our teas by type — White, Yellow, Green, Matcha, Oolong, Black, Sheng Pu-erh, Shu Pu-erh, Hei Cha — or by country: Chinese Tea, Japanese Tea, Taiwanese Tea.

For technique, see How to Brew Tea: Gongfu vs Western, and for a modern curiosity, read What Is GABA Tea.