Kyō Bancha (京番茶, Kyoto smoke-bancha)

Kyō bancha looks almost too coarse to be tea: broad crumpled leaves, bits of stem, colors of olive, bark, and dry grass. That rough look is not a flaw. It's the promise. This is Kyoto's everyday cup, plain enough for a weeknight table and deep enough that you notice when it has been brewed well.

The first secret is the water. Every careful tea drinker has been warned away from boiling water, and for sencha that warning is correct. Here the rule changes. These are mature leaves and stems, steamed, dried without rolling, then roasted until smoke and wood settle into them. Tepid water gives you a thin smoky smell and very little body. Boiling water pulls out the sweetness underneath before the cup turns dry.

The second secret is the measure: ten to twelve grams of leaf for a liter of water, and three to five minutes. That's all. Give the leaves room in a dobin or a large kyusu, pour the pot completely when the steeping is done, and don't sweeten the cup. The sweetness is already there, faint and woody, if you let the tea speak plainly. Honmono is often like this, less dramatic than people expect and better for it.