I used to think comfort was supposed to be easy.
A familiar drink. A familiar taste. Something that immediately made me feel better.
For a long time, I gravitated towards teas that were gentle. Soft flavours. Natural sweetness. Anything that felt welcoming from the first sip.
Then I started appreciating bitter teas.
Not because I suddenly changed my preferences, but because I began to understand that comfort does not always arrive in the form we expect.
Some teas ask us to stay a little longer.
They do not immediately offer sweetness. They introduce themselves slowly. There may be a bitterness at first, a sharpness that makes you pause.
And then, if you give them time, something else appears.
A deeper flavour.
A lingering finish.
A character that was hidden beneath the first impression.
I think tea teaches us this better than almost anything else.
We live in a world that often encourages us to avoid discomfort. We choose the easiest option. The quickest reward. The most immediately satisfying experience.
Tea does not always work that way.
Some of the most memorable teas are not the ones we love instantly. They are the ones we learn to understand over time.
A roasted oolong with a slightly bitter edge. A green tea with a stronger vegetal character. A tea that feels unfamiliar at first but slowly becomes something we look forward to.
Perhaps this is why bitterness has become something I appreciate.
Not because it is pleasant immediately.
Because it feels honest.
There is something refreshing about a tea that does not try to hide what it is. It does not cover itself with sweetness or ask for approval. It simply presents itself and waits for us to decide.
And maybe people are like that too.
Some things we appreciate instantly. Others take patience. Some people, places, and experiences only reveal their value after we spend enough time with them.
Tea reminds me that not everything meaningful needs to be effortless.
Sometimes, the things that challenge us a little are the things we remember most.
I still enjoy sweet and comforting teas. I still love a cup that feels familiar after a long day.
But I have learned not to dismiss bitterness so quickly.
Because sometimes, what we first mistake for a flaw is simply another kind of beauty waiting to be understood.
— Maria Tan
On tea, culture, and everyday rituals.
Stop Adding Sugar First: You’re Training Your Tongue Wrong
There is a habit I have noticed among tea drinkers. Sugar goes in before the first sip. Perhaps it is only a small spoonful. Perhaps two. But the tea is sweetened before it has been given a chance to introduce itself. I used to do this too. It seemed harmless. Tea was bitter, sugar made…
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Is Tea a Diuretic? What Your Daily Cup Really Does for Hydration
Picture a sticky afternoon in Singapore. The kind where the air sits heavy on your shoulders and the walk from the MRT feels longer than it should. You reach for something cold. Maybe a teh peng from the drinks stall, ice clinking in a plastic cup. Maybe a bottle of green tea from the convenience…
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Cold Brew Tea Isn’t Lazy, Hot Purists Just Don’t Like Being Wrong
I used to think cold brew tea was cheating. Not seriously, of course. But there was something about it that felt almost too easy. No kettle. No worrying about water temperature. No watching the clock while the leaves steep. Just tea, cold water, and a little patience. It seemed suspiciously effortless. Then I actually started…
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A Taste of Taiwan in Every Pour: Yi Fang Taiwan Fruit Tea
There are drinks that catch your eye before you even take a sip. A tall cup, fruit pressed gently against the plastic, tea glowing amber underneath. Something about it feels right for a warm afternoon. Light. A little cheerful. Easy to carry. But if you slow down for a moment, some of those cups have…
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Your Tea Isn’t Bitter—You’re Overbrewing It (And It’s Not Your Fault)
There is a particular disappointment that comes from making a cup of tea that tastes bitter. You choose the leaves carefully. You heat the water. You wait. Then the first sip arrives, and something feels wrong. For a long time, I assumed bitterness meant the tea itself was not very good. Perhaps the leaves were…
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When Tea Meets Tropical: 5 Fruit Teas in Singapore to Try
There’s a specific kind of Singapore afternoon. The air feels thick, your shirt clings a little, and every mall entrance feels like a reward. On days like that, I don’t want anything heavy. I want something cold, bright, and full of fruit, but still recognizably tea. That’s where fruit teas come in. In Singapore, they’ve…
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Temperature Rules Are Overblown: The Real Brewing Variable Nobody Mentions
I used to think making tea required a thermometer. Not literally, perhaps, but almost. Every tea seemed to have a number attached to it. Green tea at this temperature. Oolong at another. Black tea a little hotter. Too hot and you had apparently ruined everything. For a while, I took these rules quite seriously. Then…
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Afternoon Tea at Prada Caffè ION Orchard: A Green Room, a Pale-Blue Cup
Afternoon tea has always been about the pause for me. Not the tiers or the silverware. Just the moment when the cup is set down, the steam rises, and everything outside seems to slow a little. So I wondered what a pause would feel like inside a fashion house. One floor above Orchard Road, past…
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A Love Letter to Oolong: The In-Between That Changed My Mind
I did not understand oolong when I first encountered it. It seemed unnecessarily complicated. Green tea was green tea. Black tea was black tea. I understood where they stood. Oolong seemed determined to remain somewhere in between. Perhaps that was what initially kept me from appreciating it. Over time, however, I began to realise that…
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Tea from Assam: The Geography, Craft, and Character Behind the Brew
The colour arrives first. A deep amber that darkens towards red as the tea leaves give up their strength. Then comes the aroma. It is warm and rounded, often compared to malt or the crust of fresh bread. The first sip has weight. It fills the mouth with a rich body and leaves a slight,…
