We have covered a significant number of sagas and tales of tea, yet they barely account for 1% of all those about tea—and even fewer of those waiting to be immortalized in written words.
We can say that we understand the two most well-known "origins" and have explored how certain "companies" shaped not only the tea industry but also nations and cultures.
However, we have yet to address how tea made its way to different countries and how, over time, it adapted and integrated into the culture of each place it reached. Upon reflection, this could become an interesting series of writings organized chronologically in the Companies, Kingdoms, and Wars style.
This piece will not directly address that topic, but it will touch on something related: hospitality.
It could easily fit into The Sensory Dance, The Flavor Trail, or Fearless Recipes. However, it will be part of Sagas and Tales to illustrate historical events that allow us to reflect on how specific standards in hospitality were established—or even how they could be improved.
In fact, this writing will help us gain a deeper understanding of the Japanese tea ceremony known as Chanoyu.
When exploring the history of tea, one often hears about Lu Yu, also known as "The Saint of Tea," who wrote Cha Jing, "The Classic of Tea," during the Tang dynasty. As discussed in Dynasties and Infusions, this era was marked by reforms and cultural advancements. However, few know other key figures, such as Sen no Rikyū in Japan.
According to research, the adoption of tea culture in Japan did not happen overnight. It was a series of continuous efforts to adapt to this new culture from China. Over time, tea captured the interest of the upper class and became a status symbol. The use of Chinese utensils was shared as a way to demonstrate wealth and sophistication (Zavadckyte, 2017).
Thanks to his master's teachings and his discomfort with the lack of formality and excessive extravagance, Sen no Rikyū decided to standardize the early developments of the Japanese tea ceremony in the 16th century. His approach was based on modesty and highlighting Japanese artistry, promoting the use of local utensils and fostering satisfaction in simplicity (Zavadckyte, 2017).
Of course, this is a simplified version of Sen no Rikyū's influence. However, for the purposes of this discussion, understanding his emphasis on simplicity and modesty is enough.
Some historical accounts illustrate this perspective. One day, Rikyū and his son were on their way to a friend's house for a tea ceremony. Along the way, the son remarked that the beautiful old gate at the house's entrance gave it a melancholic and solitary appearance. "I don't see it that way," Rikyū replied. "It looks as if it was taken from some distant mountain temple, and I imagine it must have cost a great deal of money to bring it here." If the homeowner had put so much effort into a gate, it would be evident in the tea ceremony. Indeed, Rikyū had to leave early, unable to endure the affectation and forced effort that inadvertently revealed itself in the ritual (Greene & Elffers, 2010).
On another evening, while having tea at a friend's house, Rikyū saw his host step into the garden, lift a lantern in the darkness, pick a fruit from a lemon tree, and bring it into the room. Rikyū was delighted by the gesture. The host needed a touch of flavor for the dish he was serving and went to find it. But when the man served the lemon with an Osaka rice cake, Rikyū realized the gesture had been premeditated. It was not spontaneous but rather an attempt to showcase his culinary refinement. That was enough for Rikyū. He politely declined the cake, excused himself, and left (Greene & Elffers, 2010).
Emperor Hideyoshi planned to visit Rikyū for a tea ceremony on another occasion. The night before his visit, it began to snow. Immediately, Rikyū placed round cushions over the stone pathway in the garden, precisely covering each stone. He woke up just before dawn and, seeing that the snowfall had stopped, removed the cushions. When Hideyoshi arrived, he was amazed by the garden's beauty: the perfectly round stones, free of snow, standing out amidst the snowy landscape. The effect did not draw attention to the meticulous preparation but rather to the courteous gesture of the host (Greene & Elffers, 2010).
At first glance, these accounts might make Sen no Rikyū seem difficult to please. However, the true lesson goes beyond that. We are used to thinking that luxury, extravagance, and complexity are synonymous with high quality and beauty.
This mindset is often seen in the world of hospitality, where people assume that a dish served in a high-rise tower at an exorbitant price has more value than one from a street vendor. But hospitality is not about appearing to have the best or proving exclusivity. By following that premise, we often create slightly modified copies of what already exists.
An example of this can be seen on social media, where many seek to stand out and go viral. They follow trends—which is valid—but trends are fleeting: just as one emerges, another eventually takes its place.
The key is authenticity. Being genuine does not mean being complacent or unprepared. Sen no Rikyū prepared in advance and paid attention to every detail, just like those who invited him to tea ceremonies. The difference was that he made his actions appear simple and natural.
It is easy to appear credible when one is genuine.
Ironically, while many complain about constantly receiving orders, they continue to expect instructions for every step. This raises an important question: Are we truly living our own lives or letting others live them for us?
Satoricha ~
References
Zavadckyte, S. (2017). Japanese Tea: A Comprehensive Guide. Independently
Greene, R., & Elffers, J. (2010). Las 48 leyes del poder (J. Elffers, Ed.). Editorial Atlántida.