54 Scott Writer
plant that spurs the production of certain aromatic compounds (Cho et al. 2007;
Yazaki 2008). To tea farmers, these changes are easily recognized by the yellow,
stunted leaf-buds that develop after the cicadas have fed, a transformation that
they describe using the term 著蜒 zhuoyan.^4
Tea leaves with a sufficiently high degree of zhuoyan produce a finished tea
that is qualitatively different from that made using undamaged leaves. The first,
and most crucial, consequence of zhuoyan is the production of Oriental Beauty’s
distinctive “honey fragrance” (蜜香 mixiang). As Beipu tea producer Mr. Tan
told me, “Only with that really insect-damaged tea leaves can you produce honey
notes, only if they have zhuoyan. If you don’t have any zhuoyan, then you simply
don’t get that floral, honey fragrance.” Also, when these tea leaves are processed
in the traditional fashion, the surface of the tea buds develop a fine layer of silvery
“white down” (白毫 baihao). The tea farmers I visited during my fieldwork
routinely pointed to the presence of such “white down” as an indicator of the
degree of zhuoyan (and thus the quality) of their tea. Finally, the presence of tea
jassids in early summer stunts the growth of the tea leaves, producing small, supple
leaf-buds with a greater intensity of flavor. These tea plants do not experience
the rapid growth otherwise typical of summer tea crops, and so their leaves do
not display the thin and astringent taste that is consequently a hallmark of many
summer teas. Taken together, we can see how the zhuoyan transformation brought
about as a result of the small green leaf hoppers’ activity makes them crucial to
the elicitation of Oriental Beauty’s defining material and sensory characteristics.
The imperative to allow for zhuoyan necessitates that producers of Oriental
Beauty practice certain modes of tea cultivation that in Taiwan have come to be
known as “natural farming.” In contemporary Taiwan, “natural farming” refers in
essence to approaches to agricultural production that eschew the use of pesticides
or fertilizers, even organic varieties.^5 In the case of tea production, these methods
are of a piece with traditional cultivation practices historically pioneered by tea
producers in Beipu and surrounding areas (Fan n.d).^6 Accompanying a “natural
farmer” such as Mr. Zhang on a walk through his fields, one realizes the constraints
that this mode of cultivation places on its practitioners. Where a conventional
tea farmer can call upon an arsenal of techno-scientific weapons to encourage
plant growth or eliminate invasive insect species, the adherent of natural farming
cannot. When the grass and weeds between the tea plants grows too high, it is cut
with a hoe and spread between each row to serve as mulch to hold moisture in the
soil and provide nutrients to the plants. To combat particularly ravenous insect
species, Mr. Zhang has few weapons but the heel of his boot: Harmless spiders
live to see another day; potentially devastating caterpillars are not extended such
courtesy. Beyond these minor interventions, his fields are left to develop of their
own course.
Growing Oriental Beauty, and “natural farming” more widely construed,
involve a reworking of the relationship between the tea producer and the non-
human world in which their cultivation practices are embedded. Whether
conceived of as a return to traditional methods of cultivation or a deepening of a
more contemporary vogue for organic agriculture, “natural farming” is routinely