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 is experiencing something I am not.
Tea culture has become remarkably good at describing tea. We have tasting wheels, elaborate notes, and entire conversations dedicated to identifying the smallest details in a cup.
There is something wonderful about that. Learning how to notice flavour can make tea more interesting.
But I think we sometimes take it too seriously.
I have had teas where I could immediately understand the description. I have also had teas where someone told me I should be tasting flowers and I spent the next five minutes searching desperately for a flower that simply was not there.
Perhaps the problem is that we have started treating tasting notes like an examination.
There is a right answer.
There is a wrong answer.
And if you cannot find the notes everyone else is talking about, you start wondering whether you understand tea at all.
But tea is not a test.
Maybe you taste honey.
Maybe you taste nothing particularly identifiable.
Maybe you simply think it is delicious.
That should count for something.
I sometimes envy the freedom of people who drink tea without worrying about describing it. They take a sip, decide whether they like it, and continue with their day. No tasting wheel required.
There is a strange relief in that.
Because tea does not need to behave like wine.
It does not need a vocabulary of impressive words before we are allowed to appreciate it. Sometimes a tea is floral. Sometimes it is earthy. Sometimes it is simply the tea we wanted that afternoon.
And honestly, I think that is enough.
The more I drink tea, the less interested I become in proving that I can identify every flavour.
I would rather know whether I want another cup.
Perhaps that is a better measure of appreciation anyway.
Not whether we can describe the tea perfectly.
But whether we enjoyed drinking it.
— Maria Tan
On tea, culture, and everyday rituals.
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The Problem With “Single-Origin” Tea Obsession
There was a time when knowing where a tea came from was enough. Now, it sometimes feels as though we need to know everything. The mountain. The village. The garden. The harvest date. The particular plot where the leaves were grown. Single-origin tea has become a mark of quality in modern tea culture. The idea…
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Where Singapore’s Tea Traditions Still Steep: Pek Sin Choon
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