I have a tea sitting in my cupboard that I would never call my “best” tea.
It is not the rarest. It is not the most expensive. It does not come with an impressive story about ancient tea trees, remote mountains, or a limited harvest.
And yet, I drink it more often than almost anything else.
This has always fascinated me.
We spend a lot of time talking about the best teas. The finest oolong. The most delicate white tea. The matcha with the brightest colour and smoothest texture.
There is nothing wrong with appreciating quality. Tea deserves the attention it receives. Understanding where a tea comes from, how it is made, and why it tastes the way it does can make the experience much richer.
But I sometimes wonder if we confuse “best” with “most impressive.”
Because those are not always the same thing.
A tea can be extraordinary and still not become part of your daily life.
I remember trying a tea that many people considered exceptional. The aroma was beautiful. The flavours were complex. Every sip seemed to reveal something new. I understood why people loved it.
But when I finished the cup, I did not feel the urge to make another.
Meanwhile, there were simpler teas I kept returning to without thinking. The tea I reached for on busy mornings. The tea I brewed when I wanted comfort. The tea that somehow became familiar before I even realised it.
Perhaps that is the difference between a tea we admire and a tea we love.
Admiration comes from recognising something special.
Love comes from returning to it.
I think many tea lovers experience this quietly. We collect interesting teas. We search for discoveries. We get excited about recommendations from others.
But eventually, there are only a few teas that become part of our rhythm.
They become the teas we trust.
The ones we do not need to think about.
The ones that are waiting when the day feels too long.
Maybe this is why I have become less interested in finding the “best” tea and more interested in finding the tea that fits a moment.
The best tea for a quiet morning may not be the best tea for a conversation with friends. The best tea for celebration may not be the tea you want after a difficult day.
Tea is personal in that way. A tea does not have to impress everyone to matter to someone. And perhaps that is the beauty of tea appreciation.
The goal was never to find the one perfect cup.
It was to find the cups that become meaningful along the way.
So I wonder, what is the tea you keep returning to, even if it is not the one you call your best?
— Maria Tan
On tea, culture, and everyday rituals.
“Rare” Tea Is Often Manufactured Scarcity: Here’s How to Tell
There is a word in tea that carries unusual power. Rare. It immediately creates curiosity. A rare harvest. A rare batch. A rare tree. A tea that may never return. The suggestion is simple: if something is difficult to obtain, it must be more valuable. Sometimes, this is true. Some teas are genuinely limited because…
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LiHO Tea Singapore: A Greeting You Can Drink
Some words carry a whole childhood inside them. Li ho. I heard it at kopitiam tables, across corridors, from uncles who never waited for a real answer. It meant “how are you,” but it also meant I see you. So when I saw that name on a tea shop sign, somewhere in the middle of…
The Myth of “Perfect” Tea: What I Stopped Chasing
For a long time, I thought I was looking for the perfect tea. I imagined there would be a moment when I found the one. The tea that made every other tea feel unnecessary. The tea I would recommend to everyone. The tea that would finally make me understand what true appreciation was supposed to…
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Teh O: Understanding the Tea Order Behind the Name
There is a stall near where I grew up that has changed hands twice, but the tea has stayed the same. I still remember the first time I ordered teh o on my own, sometime in my early teens, mumbling the words at the counter and half-expecting to get them wrong. The uncle didn’t blink….
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Stop Buying Tea for the Aesthetic: How Packaging Hijacks Taste
There is something fascinating about the way we buy tea today. Before we taste the leaves, we have already formed an opinion. The box is elegant. The label is beautifully designed. The colours suggest calm, luxury, or tradition. The story feels carefully written. And before the first sip, we have already decided that the tea…
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A Tea Table in the Clouds: The Westin Singapore High Tea Review
It was one of those afternoons when the city felt too loud and too fast, and I wanted to sit somewhere quiet without really explaining why. So I went up. All the way up, to Level 32 of The Westin Singapore, where the Lobby Lounge sits above the noise like it knows something the rest…
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“Caffeine-Free Tea” Confuses Everyone—Let’s Fix the Language
I have noticed that tea conversations can become surprisingly confusing. Not because tea itself is complicated, but because we sometimes use the same words to mean completely different things. One phrase that always catches my attention is “caffeine-free tea.” It sounds simple enough. A tea without caffeine. But is that really what we mean? Because…
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The Pull, Pour, and Ritual Behind Singapore’s Favourite Milk Tea: Teh Tarik
It starts with a sound. A long ribbon of tea, arcing from one metal mug held high to another held low. The stream catches the light. Then the froth rises, pale and soft, and the whole thing gets poured back and lifted again. Nobody at the stall looks up. This happens a hundred times a…
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Stop Chasing Tasting Notes: Tea Isn’t Wine and That’s a Relief
I have a small confession to make. Sometimes I have absolutely no idea what I am supposed to be tasting. A tea description might promise orchid, honey, toasted nuts, stone fruit, and something wonderfully mysterious called a “long mineral finish.” I take a sip. I taste tea. And then I start wondering if everyone else…
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Chinese Tea Sets: Beautiful on the Table, But How Do They Brew?
There is a small arrangement on the table this evening, and I have not touched it yet. A pale bowl with a lid resting slightly askew. A round pitcher beside it, waiting to be filled. Cups no larger than a thumb and two fingers, lined up like a quiet sentence. The surfaces catch the last…
