Ever since I became serious about tea, I noticed that when I visit friends, they hesitate to offer me a cup. They think I'll be quietly (or not so quietly) snubbing their tea choices. The truth is – I won't. Not every cup of tea has to have an amazing, mind-opening taste, and not every tea intake has to be a "tea ceremony" with a Yixing teapot. Sometimes, tea is just a way to warm your hands on a cold walk or to keep the conversation going around a busy table.
There are many ways to drink tea, and each makes sense in its own time and place. That might sound obvious, but in tea circles, especially in those built around Gong Fu Cha, it's easy to feel like there is a "right" and a wrong way to have tea. We, the tea buffs, tend to develop strong opinions about how tea should be brewed and appreciated, and it can make everything else feel lesser.
But tea is what you make out of it. Sometimes, it's a means to an end, not an end in itself, and every means serves its purpose. And what works on a quiet Sunday morning won't always fit into a rushed weekday commute or a loud dinner with friends.
This article is about recognizing the full spectrum of how tea fits into our lives. From a paper cup of bagged black tea to a mindful Gong Fu session – each approach has its place. Let's look at a few common ways of enjoying tea and the kinds of moments they match best.
Tea On the Go
Let's start with what probably is the least glamorous but most familiar scenario: you're out in the cold, walking to work, or waiting for someone, and your fingers are freezing. You duck into a café or grab a paper cup from a convenience store. It's hot water with a bag of Lipton or maybe some slightly fancy Earl Grey. And it's perfect!
Will it blow your mind with nuanced notes of dried apricots and tropical orchids? Definitely not. But it is warm, comforting, and does exactly what it needs to do – keep you warm. And that's it. That's the whole point. Not every tea moment is about sitting down, pausing and savoring. Sometimes, it's just about having some warmth in your life to hold onto.
(But if you still want to enjoy the taste, at least a little, remember to dispense the tea bag after half a minute or so. Otherwise, all the caffeine will leach out from the tea dust, and you'll be sipping on a bitter, overly caffeinated drink. However, your cup-holding hand will remain warm no matter what:)
There's a kind of honesty in bagged tea. You're not pretending it's rare or sophisticated. – It's functional. And when you're cold or in a rush, function is what matters.
It's also accessible. There's no special equipment involved, no steeping timers, no technique. No carrying around a bulky and heavy thermos bottle. Just hot water in a paper cup (make sure to double the cup!), a bag, and a lid that probably leaks a little if you drink too fast.
For some folks who are deep into Gong Fu Cha, drinking bagged tea might feel like a betrayal. But, in my opinion, there's nothing wrong with it. It doesn't cancel out your very serious tea practice. If anything, it highlights how adaptable tea is. It shows up to you in various ways and reveals its multi-faceted nature.
So yes, even a humble bagged tea in a paper cup has its place when there is no need to overthink tea. Just drink, warm up, and keep moving.
The Sociable Pot: Brewing Tea Western-Style for Company
Then, there are times when tea is more about the people than the drink itself. You've got friends over, the table's filling up with snacks, someone is telling a story that brings out laughter, someone is digging through a snack bowl, and music is playing a little louder than it probably needs to. It's busy, fun, and a little chaotic, and you're busy trying to keep the kettle refilled. – This is the kind of situation where tea fits in as an anchor, and Western-style brewing makes the most sense.
You fill a big teapot with good leaves, something with a bit of body like a Dian Hong or an easygoing sweet and fruity Oolong. – Nothing too fussy. The idea is not to draw attention to the tea but to make something tasty that can sit on the table and be poured casually while the conversation flows over it.
You're not stopping what is already going to do a proper tea session. You're supporting the mood with something tasty and good. A few people might ask what the tea is, and some might not even notice while enjoying the tea without realizing it. Their mood is better, and that is what counts.
Western-style brewing is efficient. It doesn't need much gear beyond a glass teapot with a removable basket and filtered water. You're using fewer leaves while doing a longer steep. You are missing the progression of taste and aroma, but you gain convenience and continuity. Nobody pauses to reset the pot or weigh the next round of tea leaves. You just pour and pass. It also works great for mixed groups where some guests might be into tea, others not so much. This way, nobody feels pressured to "get" the tea.
The Solo Steep: Grandpa-Style and the Art of Quiet Company
Grandpa-style brewing is comforting. It doesn't require scales, timers, or a tea tray – just tea leaves in a mug or glass, hot water poured over the top, and the tea quietly doing its thing. It's the kind of brewing that asks very little from you and gives a lot in return.
This style is perfect for when you want tea to keep you company but without you being busy brewing it. It's good when you're curled up with a book, or writing a book of your own, typing it on your laptop, or just watching the rain through the window. The tea is there, revealing itself slowly as the leaves unfurl, and every sip tastes a little different from the last. It's as low-maintenance as it gets while still being rewarding.
For those unfamiliar with it, Grandpa-style means you're brewing tea directly in the cup — no strainer, no decanting. Add some leaves (just a pinch! Much fewer than you'd use in Gong Fu Cha. And make sure it's a whole-leaf tea, not broken into small particles), pour in hot water, wait for the leaves to soak up, get heavy and sink to the bottom, and drink. When the water gets low, you top it up at around one-third of the cup. That's it.
What makes the Grandpa style nice is that it doesn't pull focus. It's not trying to turn tea into a performance or a meditation. It just lets tea be what it is — warming, full of flavor, quietly present. It's a great way to enjoy good tea without pausing everything else you're doing. It's the opposite of a formal tea session but holds its magic.
The Meditative Session: Gong Fu Cha
Then, there are those moments when you want to slow down. You're not in a rush, you're not juggling tasks – it's time to pay attention, and you've got time. That's where Gong Fu Cha comes in. It's not just about making tea; it's about engaging with it.
You bring out the teaware: a gaiwan or a small Yixing teapot, a fairness pitcher, and tiny cups – so small that if your mind wanders around while you are sipping – the tea is gone before you even notice it. This setup isn't just aesthetic – it serves a purpose. It keeps the session focused, encouraging you to notice how the tea changes from steep to steep.
This way of brewing asks you to be present. You pour the water, smell the aroma rising from the rinse, watch the leaves open up, and listen to the sound of the pour. You're not multitasking. The tea is the task. And as you go through multiple infusions, you start noticing subtle shifts: how the aroma opens up, how the mouthfeel changes, how the sweetness lingers at the back of your throat.
It doesn't have to be rigid. You don't need to quote ancient poetry or try too hard. But to be fully in the moment with your tea is grounding. Gong Fu Cha creates space for that. It's a way of checking in, not just with the tea, but with yourself.
It is also a nice way to share tea with a friend or two. Not in a "let's catch up and chat" kind of way, but in a "let's sit together and appreciate this thing quietly" way. It encourages a slower pace, and in a world that moves fast, that's something people often appreciate more than they expect.
So, while it takes more effort and more attention than other methods, Gong Fu Cha gives something unique in return: a direct, evolving conversation with the tea itself and something a little closer to presence.
The Inner Practice: Deep Presence in Every Movement
There's a point in one's tea journey where you're not "doing Gong Fu Cha" anymore. You're just brewing tea. There's no inner commentary, no trying to be present, no effort to make it meaningful. You just brew. One movement flows into the next, and you're fully in it, without needing to name it or watch yourself from the outside.
And in that space, things get very quiet, within. There is no anticipation, no reflection, no goal. Each moment is complete. You're not thinking about the previous steeping or the next one. You're just where you are.
This kind of presence doesn't come quickly, if at all. It's not something you can force. It grows slowly, over time, as your tea practice becomes more regular, more lived-in. And when that happens, even briefly, it doesn't stay confined to the tea table. The quiet seeps into other parts of your life. You start to notice how you go through your day and respond to people and events. The way you walk, talk, or even breathe. You start paying attention, and your outlook shifts. Your behavior softens. Your environment reflects it.
Not many of us get to this state. And that's okay. It's not a destination to chase for, just a way the path can unfold. But it is worth knowing that tea, when practiced sincerely, has this transformative power.
No Wrong Way, Just the Right Time
What ties together all these ways of doing tea, from a paper cup on a cold morning to a quiet, immersive Gong Fu session, is that they all serve a purpose. None is more "correct" than the other. Tea isn't a ladder you climb. It's more like a landscape – each day, you take different paths depending on where you want to be and what life asks of you.
There's no shame in steeping a teabag when that's what the day calls for. And there's nothing pretentious about diving deep into a session with aged sheng and a full Cha Xi.
That's the beauty of tea – it doesn't demand that you come to it in any particular way. Instead, it meets you where you are. Whether you're rushing, relaxing, hosting, or quietly centering yourself, there's a way to brew that fits.