Tightly compressed, this cake of white tea seems to take the best of all ages: perhaps while the outer leaves have developed some cherished depth over the past several years, the inner ones, exposed to less oxygen, have retained some of the fruitiness of white teas only a couple of years old. Or perhaps it is due to their unusual wintertime harvesting, with more mature leaves having a thicker protective cuticle. In any case, the limpid broth they produce tickles the tongue with the acidity of cassis and red cherry while couched in the more familiar character of hay and bread crust; fragments of leaf, meanwhile, carry a little zing of black pepper, a surprising advantage to not filtering. Opening up slowly over several infusions, be sure to give the compressed leaves a good rinse or longer steeping times to extract their reticent flavors.