There is something I have noticed about tea culture.
We take tea very seriously.
Perhaps too seriously.
We discuss origins, processing methods, brewing temperatures, and the history behind every leaf. We debate whether a tea should be enjoyed in a certain way. We carefully consider the correct vessel, the right water, and the ideal environment.
And I understand why.
Tea deserves respect. Behind every cup are farmers, traditions, and generations of knowledge. There is beauty in understanding what we drink.
But hear me out.
What if tea does not always need to be a profound experience?
What if sometimes tea can simply be fun?
I think we sometimes forget that before tea became a subject of appreciation, it was a part of everyday life. People drank it while talking, working, resting, and spending time with others. It was not always a carefully planned ritual.
Sometimes it was just tea.
A comforting drink after a long day.
A cup offered to a guest who arrived unexpectedly.
A simple habit that became part of someone’s routine without them even noticing.
I find this especially interesting today because tea culture has become increasingly connected to identity. The teas we drink, the equipment we own, and the way we prepare them can sometimes feel like a reflection of who we are.
But perhaps we do not always need tea to say something about us.
Perhaps we can enjoy a sweet milk tea without questioning its authenticity. Perhaps we can appreciate a beautifully prepared matcha latte without needing to compare it to a traditional tea ceremony. Perhaps we can drink a simple tea bag on a busy morning without feeling that we have somehow failed as tea lovers.
Enjoyment does not always need permission.
Some of my favourite tea moments have not been the most refined ones. They were the unexpected cups. The ones shared during conversations. The ones made quickly because there was no time to think too much.
Those moments were not less meaningful because they were imperfect.
They were meaningful because they were real.
Maybe tea culture becomes more welcoming when we allow room for different ways of loving tea.
For those who enjoy studying every detail, there is beauty there.
For those who simply enjoy a warm cup at the end of a difficult day, there is beauty there too.
Tea has survived for centuries because it can be many things at once.
A tradition.
A craft.
A daily habit.
A small pleasure.
So perhaps the next time you make tea, do not ask whether you are doing it correctly.
Ask whether you are enjoying it.
Maybe that is the only rule that truly matters.
With quiet regard,
N. P. Lim
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