The Rich History of Tea Houses

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Chanoyu is a Japanese ritual of tea drinking and mindfulness. Chanoyu is more than just a simple tea break; it's a meticulous, time-honored ritual that involves all your senses. Having recently embarked on a journey to discover the essence of this tradition, I can attest that a Japanese tea drinking experience is more than just a sip—it's a gateway to an entirely different world.

Upon entering the traditional Japanese tea house, I was immediately struck by its cool, calm elegance. The simple wooden building creates a hushed, sacred atmosphere, and the tea house is often surrounded by a meticulously manicured garden. With the leaves starting to redden, the entire garden is a warm, orange hue, forming a contrast with the chilly Autumn air. The tearoom itself is a study in simplicity and balance. Tatami mats line the floor, the walls adorned with calligraphy scrolls and a single, carefully placed seasonal flower arrangement. As I stepped through the low sliding door (the "nijiriguchi"), although a bit dramatic, I felt as if the weight of the modern world was gently being lifted from my shoulders. I knew that in the tea house, I could find a temporary refuge from the chaos of my day to day life.

As I settled down on the tatami, the tea master, known as the “chajin,” welcomed us warmly, introducing to us the general flow of the ceremony, for Japanese tea drinking is as much about the process as it is about the drink. 

The ceremony starts with the chajin heating water in a cast-iron kettle, followed by the precise measuring of matcha, into a chawan (tea bowl). As the water comes to a boil, it's poured over the matcha, creating a vivid, frothy green liquid. The chajin’s actions are deliberate and unhurried, each action carrying weight. As he poured the freshly made matcha into the chawan, I knew that this matcha would be unlike all the matcha I’d had in the past. 

The first thing I noticed was the aroma. It was enchanting and unlike anything I’d had before, and my description of it being like freshly cut grass mixed with a subtle hint of seaweed probably doesn’t bring the smell justice. The taste of the matcha was alike, yet fundamentally different to the aroma. In one word, I would say the matcha tastes… green. Very earthy, with an almost velvety texture, the matcha tastes bitter, yet pleasant. The matcha’s complexity became more apparent over time, as the bitterness of the tea morphed into a tad touch of underlying sweetness. Overall, the matcha flavor was simultaneously like and unlike the matcha lattes, snacks and chocolates I love: the true matcha had a kind of complexity, or depth, that the matcha flavored snacks just couldn’t fully represent. With a tiny flower shaped “Chagashi,” or tea snack, on the side, the matcha experience was balanced out by this sweet, the matcha complementing the snack’s sweetness and vice versa. 

I came out of the ceremony learning that partaking in a Japanese tea drinking experience isn't just about quenching your thirst; it's about quenching a desire for tranquility and finding your personal peace in the storm. I would even say that the tea ceremony represents an aspect of Zen philosophy, where in the act of tea drinking itself becomes a meditation. Overall, I came out of the tea room with a profound sense of calm, as if the tea had washed away the noise and distractions of the world. I left the tea house completely rejuvenated, finding a revived love for the world and for matcha.