August is a special month: it marks the beginning of Satoricha.com.
And what better way to celebrate than with special guests? People who have something to say—whose richness lies in knowing how to listen with the right questions.
The Sensory Dance is a section dedicated to the senses, to that unique way each of us perceives the world. Because, in the end, it's about discovering the dance behind everything we feel.
And what's the point of talking about it if not to go beyond clichés and the same old conversations?
That, precisely, is the essence of this journal: to open space for depth, for the sensory, for what can't always be explained in simple words.
That's why we're starting this month with someone who doesn't just drink tea—he experiences it. Someone who describes it with disarming honesty, without filters or technical vocabulary: for example, a white tea that tastes like salted butter, apricot jam, marzipan, fresh dates, and summer rain on hot pavement.
That person is Don Mei, tea director and curator at Mei Leaf.
Who is Don Mei?
Don was born in London to a Chinese father and Swiss mother, which gave him a deeply multicultural identity from the start.
His parents dedicated themselves to bringing Eastern culture and traditions to the West—from philosophy and art to literature—at a time when such a mission was far from ordinary.
Eventually, after training in these disciplines, they ventured into the health field, opening a Chinese medicine clinic. That's where Don began his professional journey—and also where he discovered a significant knowledge gap: tea.
This occurred twenty-five years ago, marking the beginning of his journey into the world of tea.
Or, as he puts it: "I started learning about tea because, without knowing, I can't begin."
Don continues his family's legacy of building bridges between East and West, but with a vision that isn't rooted in the past. Instead, he seeks to resonate with the world we live in today.
When asked whether his approach has evolved over time, he doesn't hesitate: "Of course—it's constantly evolving. And it needs to, because that's how life works."
But he also adds a word of caution: "Within that change, you must remember why you do what you do. Otherwise, you're just drifting in the sea, letting the current take you wherever. That might work in the short term—if you're thinking of it as a business—but in the long run, it doesn't justify all the effort you put into something that isn't real for you."
"Your purpose—if we can call it that—has to guide you. A goal that reflects your essence. That's why Mei Leaf's slogan is True Tea. It doesn't refer to a specific kind of tea, but to that moment of revelation that we've all felt at some point: when a cup of tea opens up a new world in your senses."
What does tea mean to Don?
"A tough question to distill," he admits. "We know tea has many facets: health, taste and aroma, culture and tradition, botany... Each one holds profound wisdom. At first, they might seem superficial, but over time, they reveal a depth that goes far beyond."
At its core, for Don, tea is: "The destination and the path."
"Every angle we explore, every aspect we uncover, leads us back to that: the destination and the path. There's no final end, but the journey itself is the point."
It's the destination and the path to connection: with yourself, with loved ones, with strangers, with nature, with food and drink, with other philosophies."
A connection that—according to him—"can't be compared to anything else."
Flavor or feeling? The personal journey
When you taste something, do you focus more on the flavor or the feeling it evokes?
"Honestly, I focus more on the feeling it evokes. But flavor, aroma, and feeling aren't separate: the flavor and aroma bring memories, sensations—expressions that nature wants to reveal to you."
"It's interesting, because many people see taste and aroma as isolated elements, when in fact there's a relationship between them. There's a dance."
"Our only perception of reality comes from the senses; then everything is created in the brain."
"In short: I see flavor and sensation as one."
"People often say to me, 'You have such a great palate!' And honestly, I don't think so. The only difference is that I react to flavor emotionally. I say what I feel, what it reminds me of—not in technical terms. And that's part of the personal journey: you have to give yourself that freedom and trust your intuition."
"For example: tasting a snow-covered mountain. People say, 'You can't taste a snowy mountain!' And I say, 'Of course you can. You know what it feels like to breathe that cold air. That's a sensation too.'”
Is it a bland or delicate taste?
"This coffee is bland." — How many times have we heard that?
In one of his videos, Don said something that stuck with me: "Bland isn't the same as delicate." So, when something is bland, and when is it delicate?
"Does it engage you or bore you?" he answers. "You can drink a glass of water and find it boring, yet it has vitality and qualities. Flavor is a quality. And it's not just chemistry—it's something more complex."
"As humans, we have an innate sense of discernment, but we lose it because we feel everything must be explained chemically or mechanically."
Do tasting notes help?
Faced with the inevitable question: Do tasting notes on labels help or hurt the experience?
Don reflects: “It's more about communication."
"If I want to talk to someone about their life philosophy, should I start by saying nothing? Should I let them speak so I don't influence them? Yes! In a way, that's ideal."
"But on the other hand, if you never start the conversation, nothing gets said."
"Stimulating thought requires initiating from one side."
"That's why I tell people: don't read my tasting notes. Drink, decide for yourself, and then—if you want—compare them. But I also know that if I don't start the discussion, no one will say anything. We need openness so that everyone can bring their own perspective."
"And I hope that—despite I name twenty-five notes, specific and detailed—people don't feel like they can't have the same fun and joy themselves. That they can come up with their own twenty-five notes."
"What does it evoke in me? What does it evoke in you? Let's have that conversation. That's the joy. That's the connection."
"It frustrates me when we follow the sommelier narrative, where a sommelier is considered the tasting expert, and they tell you: 'You taste x, y...' and then you try it, and you're left with a black-and-white perspective—when in fact it's never like that, and it shouldn't be.”
"It's like truth-seeking starts with time-tested consensus, but I believe it should start with the personal."
What makes a dish or drink truly memorable?
Is it technique, context, emotion—or something else entirely? What should people focus on to make the experience more meaningful?
After a pause, Don replies: "Authenticity." "I use a broad word because I don't want to dictate what kind of authenticity you should show."
"What's the intention behind it? An ingredient? A style? An idea? A texture? It can be anything. What matters is that you can feel the intention behind it, and that it was authentically created."
"If you take a commodity tea and a specialty tea, beyond their surface-level differences, if you see them in a factory, you might not be able to tell them apart."
"So what makes them different? The clear intention that seeks to be expressed. And that usually comes from the person—and their authentic intention."
And this truly struck a chord. I've often quoted Klosse, who suggests that we've shifted from a holistic, cultural understanding of food to a more technical, instrumental one—frequently neglecting the emotional, social, and hedonistic dimensions of eating.
What does Don think about that? Is it true? Is there only one path?
He answered: "I'm half Chinese, half Swiss. That alone should give you a sense of my answer."
"I see everything as a tool, but it's important not to confuse the technical method as the only method."
"What does science say about its purpose or value? Science is a method—a brilliant technique—but it's not self-reflective in the way that we are."
"So you have to separate the tool from the purpose."
"The purpose has to be holistic. You want a complete understanding—as complete as possible—of whatever you're exploring, learning, experiencing. You need to involve not just the technical, but also the intellectual, the purely sensory, the innately sensory. Not just your reaction to something: you also need to separate yourself from that."
Though the topic is vast, the time always comes to say goodbye and ask our guests for their Tea Wisdom.
Don gave it a lot of thought—not for lack of knowledge, but because he believes that through his tea journey, he's learned quite a lot.
But, as he says, "The act of learning is a joy. And sometimes, explaining something too much takes away the joy of learning."
"I don't want your tea journey to be like mine. And you don't want it to be like mine. You want it to be your own personal journey. So I'll respond more technically—not in a ‘here's my wisdom to hang on your wall' type of way."
"Tea, ultimately, is about connection. Drink with openness to discover those connections."- “That's it. That's the tea wisdom. I won't specify which ones or how. Just: drink with openness to discover those connections."
From my side, there's nothing more to add.
I only hope that this new year allows all of us—at Satoricha.com and in our community—to drink with openness and find authentic connections.
Until next time.
Satoricha ~
References
Reunion de Satoricha con Don Mei (Temporada 1). (2025, 7 23). In [Zoom]. (Original work published 2025)
Klosse, P. (2013). The Essence of Gastronomy: Understanding the Flavor of Foods and Beverages. CRC Press.
Comments