Tea as Social and Solitary

Tea has always been both a social and a personal experience for me. It adapts to the moment—sometimes a bridge between people, sometimes a quiet retreat. It’s something I’ve thought about a lot, especially in different settings.

 

Tea in Social Settings

The other day, someone asked me if tea is a good platform for networking. I understood their question to mean whether tea works well in meetings or gatherings, where people talk over tea. My answer was simple: tea has long been used as a social bridge.

In ancient times, people gathered over tea, and even today, it plays that role. In China, for example, when visiting a company or taking a factory tour, it’s common for the meeting to end in a tea room, where conversation continues in a more relaxed setting. The tea isn’t the focus—it facilitates the moment, making it feel less structured and less forced.

In Europe, tea became a key part of social life, offering an alternative to alcohol and a socially acceptable drink for women. Afternoon tea soon developed into a cultural tradition centered around social gatherings. Over time, tea found its place as something to drink while engaging with others—a way to bring warmth and ease into conversations.

Tea in these settings isn’t about deep contemplation. It’s about making conversations flow more naturally. Meetings without tea can feel rigid, making us check the time, wondering when it will end. But when tea is present, there’s always something to do—pouring, sipping, pausing. It allows for silence without awkwardness. The conversation doesn’t need to be continuous. There’s a rhythm, a natural ebb and flow.

But not all teas work the same way in these settings. Some teas naturally fit into social moments, while others demand more quiet attention. Choosing the right tea matters.

I’ve seen this in my own meetings as well. Yesterday, I had a business discussion with my mom and served Baimudan, then Tongmuguan. Both have distinct, pronounced flavors.

I’ve realized that in social settings, teas with a strong but not overwhelming flavor work best. People aren’t paying close attention to the nuances—they’re talking, eating, thinking about other things. Softer, more nuanced teas, like delicate greens or lightly oxidized oolongs, tend to get lost. If the tea is too subtle, people won’t register it.

That’s why, when brewing for a group, I choose teas that are easy to brew, easy to drink, and require little attention. I won’t have to constantly adjust parameters or ‘babysit’ the tea. In social settings, the priority is the people, not the tea itself.

 

Tea as a Meditative Practice

But when I drink alone, it’s a completely different experience. Right now, as I’m writing this, I’m having a Gongfu session with a 12-year-old Shoumei, paired with a Dutch honey almond nougat milk chocolate bar, slowly brewing and paying full attention.

Tea session is my daily practice—about an hour of quiet, contemplative tea. When I’m alone, I don’t need to choose a tea based on how it will be received by others. I drink what I want, brew at my own pace, and focus entirely on the tea itself.

Drinking tea solo is meditative. The process of brewing, observing the leaves unfold, watching the liquor deepen, and feeling how the flavors shift with each steep—it all brings a sense of presence. It’s similar to meditation in the way it slows everything down and allows me to focus.

A big part of this experience comes from how I present my tea. What God has given us—the colors, the textures, the natural beauty of things in nature—is what I want to highlight. The color of the tea liquor, the shape of the leaves, the way the tea interacts with light...

This is why I’m drawn to pure white porcelain. The contrast makes the tea stand out, allowing me to fully appreciate its details. The aesthetic, the tactility of handmade porcelain, the way it feels in my hands—it all enhances my connection with tea. Handcrafted objects carry the presence of the maker, and things shaped naturally by human hands always feel more grounded, more honest. It feels right.

For a solo tea session to feel complete, I think about three things: the tea, the teaware, and the setting. When these elements are in harmony, everyday tea sessions feel meaningful.

Tea is Both Social and Solitary

So, is tea a good platform for networking? Yes. It can be a shared moment, a way to bring people together. Can it also be an individual practice, something deeply personal? Yes. It’s a personal space.

The key is understanding the occasion—choosing the right tea, setting the right pace, and letting tea naturally fit into the moment.

How do you approach tea in different settings? What tea do you choose to brew? Do you find yourself drawn to social tea moments, quiet solo sessions, or both? I’d love to hear your thoughts.

 

Disclaimer:

The blog post is for educational entertainment purposes only. All opinions are my own.