Tucked away in the misty mountains of Shanglin County, Guangxi, Madam Huang Jiamei might seem at first glance like a modest village cook. She runs a humble shop selling rice noodles and roast duck. But make no mistake—behind the counter stands a true master of wild tea.
Huang Jiamei is one of our tea farmer partners, specializing in wild black tea. She lives in Shanglin County, Nanning, Guangxi—a mountainous region that takes about three hours to reach by car from the Nanning high-speed rail station. Shanglin is a relatively poor county, home to many people of the Zhuang and Yao ethnic minorities.
About ten years ago, as we searched for ancient tea tree resources, we turned to Guangxi Geography Magazine and local tea chronicles. From those pages, we discovered that Daming Mountain might still harbor wild ancient trees. So we traveled there and visited local tea farmers, one household at a time. That’s how we eventually met Madam Huang.
Her black tea was remarkable—so deep and mellow that even a fresh batch tasted like it had aged five years. We later learned this was no accident. She had studied tea-making under a veteran master from the Guangxi Supply and Marketing Cooperative and had become particularly skilled in crafting wild black and green teas from the region.
Tea has a long history in Daming Mountain. In the Travel Notes of Xu Xiake, the famous Ming Dynasty traveler described the mountain as “shrouded in clouds,” an environment both beautiful and ideal for growing tea. Tea cultivation and processing in the area began during the Ming and Qing Dynasties, mainly for local use. In 1956, Guangxi’s Nongken system established the first state-owned tea farm in Daming Mountain, clearing over 100 mu of terraced land and flying in tea seeds—mostly from Yunnan’s large-leaf varieties—to begin large-scale planting.
By 1965, a tea processing plant was up and running, and Daming Mountain had become a key base for broken black tea exports—known for its "dark granules, bright red liquor, and bold flavor". One of the standout local cultivars is Antang Large-Leaf Tea, a native variety rich in amino acids, ideal for black and dark teas. Today, this once-forgotten treasure has been rediscovered. Our wild black tea is made by Madam Huang using precisely this local variety.
This is the handmade tea sign that hangs in front of Madam Huang’s home.
Today, she is the go-to expert for both tea making and tea sales in her village. Most villagers don’t know how to process tea themselves, so they sell their fresh leaves to her, and she handles the rest—from processing to finding buyers.
Madam Huang is a cheerful and devoted mother. While many from the village have left for city jobs, she chose to stay so her two children could grow up with their parents close by. To support her family, she not only makes tea but also sells Guangxi-style rice noodles and roast duck.
When she goes into the mountains to pick tea, she brings with her five-colored sticky rice—naturally dyed using various local plants.
We visited her during peak tea season. She often stays up all night making tea and spends the daytime selling rice noodles and roast duck. Yet her standards never wavered. Take her roast duck, for example: every duck is hand-plucked. “Others often use asphalt to remove feathers,” she told us, “but that’s poisonous. If myself wouldn’t eat it, so how could I sell it to others?” Years of hand-plucking have left her right thumb permanently bent.
Madam Huang is also selective about the teas she makes, using only pesticide-free leaves. She insists that anything meant to be consumed must be safe. Years of tea-making have stained her hands black—stains that can no longer be washed away. When we asked her why she kept making tea, she said, “At first, it was to survive. Then I fell in love with the mountains, with picking tea. And besides, it’s something I can do even when I’m old—it gives me a sense of security.”
She also taught us how to distinguish wild tea from plantation-grown tea. “Wild tea grows thinner, like it's malnourished,” she joked. “But wild varieties are usually native breeds with slower growth cycles. With the same picking standards, they tend to be more tender.”
At her rice noodle shop, tea is always free. Anyone nearby can stop in and pour themselves a cup. This tea is brewed from the sifted fragments left over after red tea processing. It’s not fancy, but it’s warm, fragrant, and satisfying.
And the rice noodles? Unforgettable. The best Guangxi-style noodles we’ve ever had. Sadly, we didn’t get to try her roast duck—it’s so popular that it sells out fast. People travel from far away just to buy it. Honestly, we’ve started to believe that those who master tea...might also be naturally talented cooks, too.
The process of picking and making tea together with Huang Jiamei.
