A step-by-step exploration of authentic Longjing tea production—from harvest to hand-wok finishing

Before it becomes the serene infusion in your glass cup—pale gold, fragrant with roasted chestnuts, smooth as silk—Longjing tea lives a brief, intense life shaped by human hands and elemental fire. Its journey from bush to brew spans just 48 hours, yet within that window unfolds one of the most meticulous and time-sensitive processes in all of tea.

This is not mass production. It is a race against time, temperature, and decay, where a single misstep can turn delicacy into dullness. To understand Longjing is to witness its making—not as a factory output, but as a seasonal ritual passed down through generations in the hills surrounding Hangzhou’s West Lake.

I. The Pluck: Precision in the Pre-Dawn Mist

Longjing begins not with machinery, but with fingertips.

In late March, before sunrise, tea pickers—often women who’ve done this since girlhood—climb the terraced slopes of Shi Feng or Meijiawu. They carry bamboo baskets slung over their shoulders, moving silently through rows of tea bushes still glistening with dew.

What they harvest is exacting:
One bud + one tender leaf (One bud and one leaf),
no more, no less.

This “flag-and-spear” standard ensures tenderness and balance. Older leaves bring bitterness; broken stems introduce grassiness. And timing is everything:
Pre-Qingming (Mingqian): Harvested before April 5, these early shoots are small, slow-growing, and rich in amino acids—the source of Longjing’s famed umami and sweetness.
Post-Qingming (Yuqian): Larger leaves, higher yield, but sharper, more vegetal.

A skilled picker gathers only 1–1.5 kilograms of fresh leaves per day—enough to yield just 250–300 grams of finished tea after processing. This scarcity is why true Mingqian Longjing commands premium prices.

II. The Race Against Oxidation: From Fresh Leaf to Fixed Flavor

Unlike black or oolong teas, green tea must halt oxidation immediately to preserve its fresh character. For Longjing, this begins within 2–4 hours of plucking.
Step 1: Light Withering (Optional)
Leaves are spread thinly on bamboo trays in a cool, shaded room for 1–2 hours. This softens them slightly, reducing breakage during frying—but many top producers skip this to retain maximum freshness.
Step 2: Kill-Green (Shā Qīng )
The heart of Longjing’s identity. Fresh leaves are tossed into an iron wok heated to 220–260°C (430–500°F). Within seconds, the sizzle begins—a sound locals call “the song of the leaves.”

This high-heat frying:
Deactivates oxidative enzymes;
Locks in chlorophyll (keeping the green hue);
Begins developing aroma compounds like pyrazines (roasted notes).

This stage lasts only 3–5 minutes, but demands constant motion—no machine can replicate the intuitive rhythm of a master’s wrist.
Step 3: Shaping & Drying (Huī Guō / Wok-Shaping and Drying)
Now cooled slightly, the leaves return to a lower-temperature wok (80–100°C / 175–212°F) for the final act: hand pressing, rolling, and polishing.

Here, the artisan uses the heel of the palm to gently press and glide the leaves across the hot surface. Over 15–20 minutes, they transform from crumpled greens into the iconic flat, smooth, spear-shaped needles of Longjing. Moisture drops from ~75% to under 6%, and the signature toasty-chestnut fragrance fully emerges.

A single batch yields 2–3 kilograms—and a master may produce only one or two batches per day.

III. The Human Cost of “Effortless” Elegance

What consumers see is simplicity: a quiet cup, a clean flavor.
What they don’t see is the physical toll:
Hands cracked from repeated contact with hot iron;
Shoulders strained from hours of precise motion;
Sleep lost to the narrow harvest window.

And yet, fewer young people are taking up the craft. In Hangzhou, the average age of a Longjing firing master is now over 55. Meanwhile, machine-made “Longjing-style” tea floods the market—uniform in shape, hollow in soul.

IV. How to Honor the Craft in Your Cup

You don’t need to be a connoisseur to appreciate real Longjing—but you can brew it with intention:
Water: 80–85°C (175–185°F)—never boiling;
Vessel: Glass or porcelain gaiwan, to watch the leaves dance;
Steep Time: 1–2 minutes for first infusion; re-steep 2–3 times;
Mindset: Pause. Smell the dry leaf. Watch it unfurl. Taste the mountain.

When you do, you’re not just drinking tea.
You’re participating in a 400-year-old dialogue between land, leaf, and hand.

In a world of speed, Longjing remains an act of slowness—
a reminder that some things cannot be rushed,
only respected.