I have been digging deep into the rabbit hole of Chinese incense making and the sandalwood industry lately. It is a fascinating, complex world, but I want to pause the deep dive for a moment to share my notes and address something that trips up almost everyone when they first start exploring high-end incense: the naming of the "King" of sandalwood.
I am referring, of course, to Lǎo Shān Bái Tán (老山白檀).
For Asian consumers, this name carries an immediate, almost instinctive weight of prestige (whether or not you know the origins of the two words.) But for incense lovers outside of that cultural sphere, it can be incredibly confusing.
If you plug the characters into Google Translate, you get "Old Mountain White Sandalwood." Since product descriptions often mention "Indian Sandalwood," this naturally leads people to scour maps of India for a peak called "Mount Lao" or "Old Mountain," only to come up empty-handed. That is because the name is, in fact, an elevated trade code rooted in centuries of commerce, linguistics, and cultural hierarchy.
What is "Old Mountain" Sandalwood?
To put it simply, Lǎo Shān (or Rozan in Japanese) is the gold standard of sandalwood. Historically and strictly speaking, it refers to Santalum album harvested from the Mysore region of India. This specific wood is revered for a specific olfactory profile: a rich, milky, buttery creaminess that lacks the harsh, woody bite found in other varieties. When an incense master speaks of "Old Mountain," they are invoking the memory of this legendary benchmark-level scent against which all other sandalwoods are judged.
"Shān" (山/Mountain) in Asian Merchant Trade
So, why call it "Old Mountain" if there is no actual mountain?
To understand this, we have to look at how Chinese merchants historically classified commodities. In the lexicon of 18th and 19th-century trade, the character Shān (Mountain) meant far more than a geological formation. It functioned as a trade metonym for "The Source" or "The Mine." It represented a wild, resource-rich destination where precious goods were extracted.
A perfect parallel exists in the history of the Gold Rush. When Chinese immigrants traveled to San Francisco for gold, they named the city Jiù Jīn Shān (旧金山), which directly translates to "Old Gold Mountain." Years later, when gold was discovered in Melbourne, Australia, they named that city Xīn Jīn Shān (新金山), you guessed it, it's "New Gold Mountain!!!"
In this context, the "Mountain" wasn't a specific peak; it was the land of abundance. The sandalwood trade followed the exact same logic. India was the original, established source of this "fragrant gold," so it earned the title Lǎo Shān (Old Mountain). The prefix Lǎo (Old) in Chinese commerce is a massive status symbol. It doesn’t just mean aged; it implies "The Original," "The Authentic," and the established patriarch of the trade.
There is perhaps no greater proof of this naming convention than the Chinese name for Honolulu, Hawaii. To this day, Chinese speakers call Honolulu Tánxiāngshān (檀香山), which literally translates to "Sandalwood Mountain." This wasn't poetic license; in the early 19th century, before the gold rushes, Hawaii was a massive exporter of Santalum paniculatum to China. The traders didn't care about the beaches; they cared about the harvest. It cements the fact that in the eyes of the old-time Cantonese merchants, a "Mountain" was simply a geographical bank vault filled with a specific resource.
This terminology didn't stay in China. Because the Japanese incense tradition (Kodo) was built upon raw materials imported through Chinese trade routes, Japan adopted the classification system whole. The characters remained the same, even as the pronunciation shifted. What the Chinese traders called Lǎo Shān, the Japanese masters read as Rozan. The name is a shared heritage, a linguistic fossil that tells the story of how aromatic culture traveled across the continent.
Old vs. New Mountains: A Tale of Two Scents
But the logic of the merchant trade dictates that if there is an "Old Mountain" in the sandalwood market, there must eventually be a "New Mountain." This is where the classification Xīn Shān (新山) enters the picture. As the supply of wild Indian wood began to dwindle or become prohibitively expensive, traders began sourcing sandalwood from other regions, primarily Indonesia, Australia, and the Pacific Islands.
These new sources were collectively labeled Xīn Shān (New Mountain). While they are still sandalwood, they are often biologically different. "New Mountain" wood frequently comes from different species, such as Santalum spicatum from Australia, which yields a drier, spicier, and more woody scent profile. Even when the wood is the same species (as is often the case with Timor sandalwood), the trade distinction remains.
"Old Mountain" implies the creamy, soft, enduring scent of the Indian terroir, while "New Mountain" implies a sharper, brighter, and more transient aroma. It was a way for traders to manage expectations: Xīn Shān might be good, but it is the alternative, not the original.
To really understand the nuance here, I find it helpful to look past the geography and think of these woods as a royal family. "New Mountain" is not a monolith; there is a hierarchy hidden inside that label.
At the very top sits the King: The true Old Mountain Santalum album from the Mysore region of India, possessing that unmatched, deep buttery richness.
Right below him is the Prince: Sandalwood from the Timor region (Indonesia). Timor sandalwood is the biological twin of the King, as it is the same species (Santalum album). Because it shares the same DNA, it retains most of that signature milky, creamy sweetness. It might be slightly lighter or brighter than the ancient Indian stocks, but it is undeniably royalty.
Then, you have the Cousins: Sandalwood from Australia (Santalum spicatum) or Hawaii (Santalum paniculatum). While beautiful in their own right, these are some-what different biologically. They tend to be drier, spicier, and greener, lacking the dense "dairy" note of the album species.
Treating them all as just generic "New Mountain" misses this crucial nuance. The Prince can take the throne in a pinch, but the Cousins are playing a different game entirely.
DARABARA's Takeaway: So, for incense consumers, it would be more helpful and informative to pay attention to the specific region of the wood when purchasing sandalwood products.
Deviations in Modern Trade
However, if you are buying incense in the modern market, you need to navigate one final layer of complexity. The strict geographical definition of Lǎo Shān (老山) has begun to drift, especially in the diverse Chinese market.
As a generalization, high-end incense houses in Japan tend to be conservative with the term. When a reputable Japanese maker labels a box Rozan, they are usually guaranteeing that the product contains genuine, often stockpiled, Indian Mysore wood. It is a preservation of the strict historical definition.
In the modern Chinese trade, however, the term has become more fluid as the consumer incense market expands rapidly. Because genuine, wild-harvested Indian sandalwood is now exceptionally rare due to government export restrictions, Lǎo Shān is sometimes used interchangeably to describe the age and state of the wood rather than just its origin. Traders discuss the concept of Huǒ Qì (火气) or "Fire Energy"(yep, this is another rabbit hole I'm digging into): the sharp, raw notes found in fresh wood. Sandalwood that has been aged for decades until that fire dissipates, leaving only the soft, milky core, may also be marketed as Lǎo Shān, even if that wood was technically harvested in Timor region.
For the modern buyer, "Old Mountain" has become a dual-purpose term. It is a nod to the history of Indian Mysore, but it is also a promise of a specific scent profile that is aged, creamy, and devoid of the sharp "new" notes of fresh timber. Understanding this distinction, between the geographical "Old Mountain" and the commercial "Old Mountain," is the key to navigating the high-end incense world without getting lost in the smoke.
