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.
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