I used to think tea had to be hot.
There was something about the ritual of it. Boiling water, warming the pot, watching the leaves open. A proper cup of tea seemed to require steam.
Then I tried cold brew tea, and I had to admit something slightly uncomfortable.
I liked it.
More than I expected.
Cold brew tea does not have the drama of hot tea. There is no kettle singing in the kitchen or steam curling above the cup. You simply add tea leaves to cold water and let time do the work.
That simplicity is probably part of why some tea lovers are suspicious of it.
There is a certain idea that if tea is not prepared hot, we are somehow doing it wrong. Tea has traditions, after all, and many of those traditions place great importance on hot water and careful preparation.
But does that mean every good cup has to follow the same rules?
I am not convinced.
Cold brewing changes the experience. Without the heat, the tea can taste softer and less aggressive. Some teas reveal gentle floral or fruity notes that might be harder to notice when brewed quickly with hot water.
It can also be wonderfully refreshing, especially in Singapore.
On a humid afternoon, I sometimes want a cold glass of tea more than I want to sit beside a steaming cup. That does not make me appreciate tea any less. If anything, it makes me notice how adaptable tea really is.
And perhaps that is what I find most interesting about cold brew tea.
It challenges the idea that there is only one proper way to enjoy something.
We have already adapted tea in countless ways. We add milk. We add sugar. We serve it over ice. We turn it into lattes and desserts. We drink it in tea rooms, cafés, homes, and hawker centres.
So why should cold brewing be treated as a betrayal of tradition?
Maybe tradition is not about keeping tea frozen in time.
Maybe it is about allowing tea to continue finding its way into people’s lives.
I still love hot tea. I probably always will. There is something comforting about holding a warm cup between your hands when the day feels long.
But on certain afternoons, I want something cold, bright, and uncomplicated.
And if that makes me a tea purist’s least favourite person, I suppose I can live with that.
— Maria Tan
On tea, culture, and everyday rituals.
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