Place · in Shizuoka
Honyama
Honyama means 'the original mountain', and it names the oldest tea ground in Shizuoka: the upper valleys of the Abe and Warashina rivers, running north into the mountains behind Shizuoka city. It is a small fraction of the prefecture's output and a large part of its reputation. In a prefecture whose commercial identity is deep-steamed tea, Honyama went the other way and stayed with light steaming.
What grows here
Sencha, almost exclusively, and lightly steamed. There is very little else here: no plateau volume and no shaded-tea tradition, just first-flush leaf off small mountain plots. Ashikubo and Warashina are valleys inside the Honyama area rather than alternatives to it, and a tea named for one of them is a Honyama tea told more precisely.
The ground
The Abe and the Warashina cut narrow steep valleys into the mountains behind the city, with the gardens on the slopes above the water. Fog fills the valley floor in the morning and burns off late, the sun clears the ridge late and drops behind it early, and the nights are cold. The effect is a short day and slow growth, which is the local explanation for what buyers here call yama no kaori, the mountain aroma. It is also why nothing in these valleys can be picked by a full-size machine.
How it is made here
Light steaming, asamushi, is the local commitment: a short pass through the steamer, on the order of twenty to forty seconds, rather than the minute and more a fukamushi takes. The leaf stays whole, survives the rolling line as an intact needle and brews a clear pale liquor instead of a cloudy green one. That is the opposite bet from the Makinohara plateau in the same prefecture, and it only works on leaf thin and even enough to fix in that time, which is what slow mountain growth gives you.
What to look for
Honyama is a trade name and not a boundary. It is generally taken to mean the upper Abe and Warashina basins, but there is no register and no line on any map, so it stretches downstream in the hands of a willing seller. A valley or garden name, Ashikubo or Warashina, is worth more than the regional one. The other trap is your own kettle: a light-steamed tea brewed the way a fukamushi wants to be brewed will read as thin, because the fukamushi was invented to avoid exactly the longer steep this leaf needs.
How it got here
These valleys were already old tea ground when Tokugawa Ieyasu retired to Sunpu, now Shizuoka city, at the mouth of the system in 1607. Their leaf became his household's tea, and the filled jars were carried up to a storehouse at Daibutsu pass above Ikawa, over 1,000 m in the mountains behind the city, to sit out the summer cold before they were opened in the autumn. Shizuoka city still stages the procession as an annual event. That patronage is why a set of remote mountain hamlets ended up carrying a name the whole prefecture's reputation was later built on.
Other places in Shizuoka
- Makinohara
- Shimada
- Fujieda
- Ashikubo
- Kakegawa
- Kanaya
- Kawane
- Okabe
- Tenryu
- Warashina