This question deserves a book (or a film!)… Briefly: even though I had a Japanese mother who made genmaicha (roasted rice and green tea) with fresh ginger for me if I ever had a cold, I really knew nothing of tea, of its history, of its incredible variety, and its delights, until I fell ill in my early 30s and was told to give up my habit of making and inhaling multiple double espressos daily. I asked that naturopath what I could drink instead, and he said, “you’re half-Japanese, you should drink green tea.” In those days (early ‘80s) there was still little here besides cheap tins from China or Japan, and after a few months I said, “nothing this boring could have lasted three thousand years!” and decided I had to go to Asia and see for myself.

My first opportunity was my honeymoon in Japan with my wife, and after a round of astonishing tastings in Kyoto I realized they simply keep all the good stuff for themselves! The tea server then casually said, “you know, all tea originally comes from China,” which aroused my curiosity, and my next trip was to Taiwan where I dove deep into the tea world there and found my life’s other calling. The knowledge that all tea – white, green, oolong, black (hong, or red), and puerh – come from the same plant, the camellia sinensis, was a revelation to me at that time. Besides going back to Japan and Taiwan several times, I’ve also been to China, Korea, Singapore, and Hong Kong exploring tea, and of course since the advent of the internet, excellent teas are now available garden-direct and fresh from most producing nations. Plus there’s a whole new generation of serious tea houses in major cities like New York, Washington, San Francisco/Berkeley, Seattle, Vancouver, Boulder, Paris, and even London.

Both Buddhism and tea suggest a path to awakened mind, and it’s certainly no coincidence that tea and Buddhism co-evolved in China, Korea, and Japan. Several traditions of ceremonies/practices that focus on tea emerged from monasteries and now have schools of their own. (No offence to India, where Buddhism began, but tea was first cultivated there only in the mid-1800s, by the British, who used what we would now call intellectual property theft to bring tea seeds, plants, and workers from China to Assam and Darjeeling.) But tea is now truly universal, more consumed than any other beverage except water, and at the center of social life all over the world, despite the commercial successes of colas and coffee. (A sort of introduction to my view of the tea world can be had in Issue 71 of Kyoto Journal, which I guest edited a few years ago.) 

If there’s one thing to take away about tea, it’s that you’ll never live long enough to try all the varieties, which is also to say there are as many tea traditions as there are teas in the world, so there’s no one “tea,” just many teas and styles. I favor the Taiwanese approach, especially the gao shan cha (high mountain tea), which requires and rewards an attentive practice (not unlike the Japanese chanoyu, but without the obsessiveness), but even there things are changing due to climate, political, environmental, and labor considerations, not to mention rising prices, so who knows? (Other Taiwan teas like baihao, baochong, tungting, and their hong cha are wonderful as well, and less expensive!) 

For tea, the issues of worker justice, environmental concerns, standardized nomenclature, and supply chain transparency are all more important and urgent than the latest refinements of style and ceremony. All of the tea world’s constituencies, from farmers and producers to traders and retailers, to consumers and aficionados, will in the coming years, find it essential to embrace their common needs and aspirations with attention to those issues.