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.
Tea Ceremony Kyoto: A Slow Dance of Bowls and Breath
The room is quiet enough to hear water. Somewhere beyond the paper screens of this traditional tea ceremony venue, a garden drips after morning rain. Inside a tea house on a tatami mat worn soft by years of kneeling, a tea master lifts a bamboo whisk and begins tea making. There is no rush in…
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Why We Keep Romanticising Tea Moments That Never Happened
I sometimes wonder if we are drinking tea or remembering something that never really happened. A quiet morning that feels softer in memory than it ever was in real life. A perfect cup by the window that somehow always looks better in hindsight. A tea moment that feels cinematic, even though it probably lasted only…
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Masala Chai Tea Origins: The Cultural Evolution of India’s Spiced Tea Tradition
There is a sound that belongs to mornings across India: the hiss of milk rising in a battered pot, the clink of a spoon against metal, the low murmur of a tea seller calling out to passing crowds. Before the first sip, there is the scent. Cardamom pods, fresh ginger, and cinnamon stick curling into…
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We Are Turning Tea Into Something It Was Never Meant to Be
There is something quietly strange happening in tea culture. The more popular the tea becomes, the more it starts to resemble everything it once stood apart from. Speed. Branding. Productivity. Performance. Tea, which once belonged to unhurried moments, is increasingly being asked to do more. To energize. To optimize focus. To replace coffee. To support…
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Sencha Green Tea vs. Matcha Powder: Understanding the Differences in Japanese Green Tea
Two tins of tea powder sit side by side on a shelf. Both hold a fine green powder. Both promise the taste of authentic Japanese tea. To the eye, they look almost identical, and that is precisely where the confusion begins. One is matcha powder, often used in matcha lattes and desserts. The other is…
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Discovering Gryphon Tea Company’s Earl Grey in Singapore
I recently tried the Earl Grey from Gryphon Tea Company Singapore, and I have to admit, it surprised me. Not because it was flawless-it wasn’t, but because it felt like a tea that knew exactly what it wanted to be. The aroma is the first thing that hits you. Bergamot is present but subtle, not…
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Hojicha: The Roasted Japanese Green Tea With A Mellow Twist
There is a moment, just after the hot water meets the hojicha tea leaves, when the kitchen fills with the aroma of something toasted. Not grassy. Not sharp. Warm, like roasted nuts or the edge of a freshly baked loaf. That moment is where hojicha begins. Hojicha (sometimes spelled houjicha) is a roasted green tea…
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A Quiet Afternoon at Yixing Xuan Teahouse
I recently spent a quiet afternoon at Yixing Xuan Teahouse, a place that feels like a pause in the city. The moment you step inside, the world seems slower. The air carries the gentle aroma of steeped leaves, and the staff move with quiet precision. I chose an oolong, simple yet familiar. Watching the leaves…
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The Controversial Smoky Tea That Divides Enthusiasts: Lapsang Souchong Black Tea
There is a tea that empties rooms and fills them in equal measure. Open a box of loose leaf lapsang souchong black tea, and someone nearby will lean in with delight while another quietly steps away. Few teas provoke such immediate, honest reactions. That divide is part of its story. This smoked lapsang souchong smells…
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The Tea That Keeps Me Coming Back
I have a tea I return to more than any other. It is not rare. It is not expensive. In fact, most people would probably pass it by without a second thought. And yet, somehow, it has become a quiet companion over the years. I first drank it on a rainy afternoon. I had been…
