As spring arrives, nothing is more wonderful than leisurely sitting together, enjoying a cup of Hue's Hoang Mai tea, and feeling the love that the tea makers have instilled in the pure aroma of the tea. For Ms. Tran Thi Thanh Nhi and Mr. Hieu Truong – the two founders of Nhi Do Mai Tea House – in particular, and for the people of the ancient capital in general, a good cup of tea lies not in technique but in the spirit of life cultivated over time. Hue people are accustomed to living slowly, observing, and preserving intangible values. Tea is the same; its aroma doesn't unfold immediately, its flavor doesn't come instantly, requiring patience to listen and feel. It is this tranquility that helps them recognize the subtle differences in a cup of tea, cherish the spirit of moderation, and bring an inherent serenity to tea making and tea appreciation.

I arrived at Nhi Do Mai Tea House on a drizzly day, with puddles still clinging to the small path in front of the gate. Hue had just experienced a historic flood, and the rainy season was nearing its end. Stepping onto the porch, amidst the thin wisps of smoke rising, I only caught a glimpse of a man slowly kindling a fire with dry firewood. Seeing us, he smiled and greeted us, inviting us inside, saying that in Hue, there must be rain, and this season must have a crisp, cool chill; if it were different, it wouldn't be Hue anymore, and the people of Hue would miss it terribly. Later, we learned that he was Mr. Hieu, the owner. My friend and I exchanged a knowing smile, impressed by the charming way the people of this region welcomed us. We chose a table by the window, waiting for the owner to finish lighting the fire before bringing out the tea menu.

When I learned that the shop served Hoàng Mai tea, I was curious to try it. It was early spring, and I had just read the book "A Hoàng Mai Tree in Front of the House" by Minh Tự, and learned that: “For the people of Hue, the Hoàng Mai is a sacred flower. Every house has a yellow Hoàng Mai tree in front of the yard. The king's palace has a yellow Hoàng Mai tree in front of its yard. Even the houses of the poor have yellow Hoàng Mai trees in front of their gates. The ancestral halls of families certainly cannot be without a Hoàng Mai tree. A Hue temple garden without a yellow Hoàng Mai tree is like a temple without Buddha. Even the churches with their distinctly European architecture never lack a yellow Hoàng Mai tree.”

The author wrote: “I imagine a spring day, the yellow apricot blossom tree in front of my house blooming. Then I would spend an entire day doing nothing but sitting and admiring the apricot blossoms. On the bare, frost-covered branches of yesterday, yellow buds have now burst forth. And after just a few hours under the warm spring sun, those yellow buds have blossomed into a canopy of golden flowers. That vast canopy of golden flowers blurs in my eyes, flickering and illusory, as if it were no longer flowers. It must be a person. A silent figure with a smile that illuminates the entire world.” I secretly thought that if I were standing before that scene, I would also revere the beauty of the apricot blossom tree in the same way. Unexpectedly, this winter, I had the opportunity to enjoy apricot blossom tea in a poetic setting at Nhi Do Mai Tea House. With Tet (Lunar New Year) approaching, the thought of writing an article about apricot blossom tea filled me with joy.

As he poured the tea, Mr. Hieu slowly introduced us to this special Hoang Mai tea and how to properly enjoy it. Hoang Mai tea is a childhood memory for his wife, Ms. Tran Thi Thanh Nhi, a tea artisan. In her family, from her great-grandfather, Mr. Pham Xung (who earned a doctorate and held the position of Minister under Emperor Tu Duc), through many generations, Hoang Mai tea has always been present at important events such as New Year's Eve ceremonies, housewarming parties, celebrations of passing exams, or entertaining distinguished guests. She and her siblings grew up surrounded by the aroma of tea from their maternal grandfather and father – beautiful memories like a fairy tale that they want to preserve.

She remembers those January mornings standing under the old plum blossom tree in her grandmother's garden. The scent of the flowers wafted in the early morning breeze, clinging to her clothes and hands, and staying with her throughout those afternoons sitting under the eaves picking blossoms to make tea. Her grandmother taught her that making tea requires patience, that one shouldn't rush or be greedy. She quoted Cao Bá Quát's saying, "Throughout life, one bows down to the plum blossom," reminding people to bow before the plum blossom, before purity and beauty. The plum tree not only provides flowers but also teaches people to live slowly, maintain decorum, and humble themselves before purity. Tea makers must learn to humble themselves, picking each petal gently, preserving each fragrance so that the tea retains its flavor for a long time. Bowing before the plum blossom is also learning to live a quiet, humble life, cherishing enduring things.

Making this type of tea is extremely difficult. The delicate and subtle plum blossom aroma is very challenging to appreciate, especially when combined with the woody base of ancient Shan Tuyet tea. To ensure the tea retains its fragrance and flavor and can be stored for a long time without losing its aroma, the couple spent many years adjusting and perfecting the recipe.

A batch of Hoang Mai tea is only truly perfect when, amidst the pure fragrance of plum blossoms, the tea drinker perceives the essence of spring in the ancient capital: the tea liquor is a clear golden hue, the plum blossom fragrance is light yet profound, subtly blending with many notes of spring flowers and herbs, along with the lingering taste of ripening fruits. The tea has a slight bitterness on the lips, followed by a smooth and long-lasting sweetness, a refined aroma like early spring forest honey, a gentle richness like aged glutinous rice wine, and a lasting impression like a New Year's wish for peace, prosperity, and good fortune. Mr. Hieu further shared that a perfect batch of tea is not one that is 100% identical year after year, but rather one that faithfully reflects the weather, the flowering season, and the state of mind of the people at the exact moment it was produced.

The Hoàng Mai tea-making process they follow is a combination of traditional techniques and refined sensibility. Nhị explains that the tea is made from premium ingredients: one bud mixed with one bud and one leaf, harvested in the spring from ancient Shan Tuyet trees, 500-600 years old, on Tay Con Linh mountain.

Hue's apricot blossoms are selected when they are just beginning to bud in the early morning, when their fragrance is strongest. The tea is infused with the fragrance multiple times, each time requiring about 300g of blossoms for 1kg of tea. Layers of tea and blossoms alternate, then infuse. As the temperature of the tea mass rises, they must skillfully turn the tea mass into grooves (called "flower channels") to allow moisture to escape, preventing chemical changes that could cause the tea to turn red or develop a rancid smell. Thanks to the flower channels, the blossoms fully open and the tea absorbs the maximum amount of fragrance. Once the tea has absorbed the fragrance, charcoal is lit, a large pot of water is placed on top with the lid open, and a copper tray is placed on it. The steam from the boiling water slowly heats the tray, and the tea is placed on the tray and gradually dried.

Steam heats the tray, allowing the moisture to gradually evaporate, drying the tea leaves, while the remaining aroma clings tightly to each leaf, reminiscent of ancient times. The brewing and drying process is repeated 5-6 times to achieve the sweet, pure fragrance of a house with blooming flowers. This process involves almost no mechanical intervention, relying primarily on skill, the aroma, and generations of experience. "The moment of harvesting the flowers and brewing the first pots of tea from the new batch is always special. There's a sense of anticipation, waiting, and a quiet stillness that is so characteristic of Hue," Mr. Hieu shared.

While we enjoyed tea, Mr. Hieu recounted his and his wife's love story. It was a romantic tale between an international photojournalist and a tea artisan. Mr. Hieu first met Ms. Nhi during a work assignment, when he arrived as a reporter to document the story of an artisan making imperial lotus tea. The space was crowded, filled with voices and movement. But amidst all the noise, what caught his attention was the artisan making the tea with a calm, unhurried demeanor, in almost absolute stillness. Perhaps this is what created a very natural connection between them, because Mr. Hieu also possessed a serene, self-possessed, and profound Hue quality, even though he was usually a talkative person.

According to Mr. Hieu, photography and tea meet at a common point: the art of focus and capturing the moment. In photography, if you rush, the most beautiful light will be missed; in tea, if you are impatient, the flavor will be ruined. Both require him to wait and respect nature instead of trying to control it. When he started making tea with Nhi, batches of tea, despite his best efforts, had to be discarded, making him realize that his patience was still very shallow. Nhi often reminded him that tea making requires a state of tranquility; when the mind of the tea maker is not calm enough, the tea will reflect that very clearly. Whether it's photography or tea making, the person making the tea must be fully present, because when the mind is scattered, the result will never be perfect. The tea-making process itself taught them to listen to nature, the weather, the seasons, and even the smallest changes within themselves.

Together, they continuously refine Hoang Mai tea to contribute to preserving the essence of Hue's cuisine and spreading tea culture to friends both domestically and internationally. Her grandmother once said that Hoang Mai is the queen of a hundred flowers – the flower that blooms early to announce the arrival of spring. For both of them, Tet is a time to reflect on the past year, be grateful for what they have preserved, and quietly prepare for the new year; it's an opportunity to remind the family to slow down, cherish every moment, and preserve family traditions. This spring, their small family has welcomed two new members: twin boys. Ms. Nhi imagines celebrating Tet together: on the morning of the first day, under the old porch, the children's soft laughter blending with the steam rising from the Hoang Mai teapot. The aroma unfolds slowly, the taste lingering in the throat. Tet in the old tradition isn't just about the feast or the vibrant apricot blossoms, but about the moment of seeing spring flourish in every breath, every laugh. In her perception, the two children are like the pure fragrance of the tea. Thanks to this, the peace, contentment, and completeness of spring always remain in the home, beside a pot of tea, a few old stories, and the sound of children's laughter.

Sitting by the warm fireplace at Nhi Do Mai Tea House, my friend and I drank about eight cups of tea together. The flavor of Hoang Mai tea lingered in my throat for a long time afterward, instead of fading away. I happily bought a box of Hoang Mai tea to take home. Enjoying Hoang Mai tea in the Southern atmosphere leading up to Tet (Lunar New Year) was incredibly pleasant. However, I must admit that, returning to the fast-paced life of the country's most dynamic city, finding a kindred spirit with whom to leisurely savor eight to twelve cups of tea is truly not easy.

I brought this up as a topic of discussion, and Mr. Hieu said that finding a soulmate in this busy life is very difficult. Everyone is busy, everyone is caught up in their own worries. But precisely because it's difficult, when you do meet, that moment is all the more precious to him. Ms. Nhi agreed. For her, a soulmate is like tea; it needs time to bloom, patience to appreciate, and a tranquil soul to connect. When you meet them, the tea tastes richer, its delicate aroma doubled; when you haven't met them, the tea is still fragrant, but your heart lacks a certain peace. Under their tea house, beautiful memories don't come from long conversations, but from the quiet presence of their guests. Some people, like us, sit for a long time without saying much. When they leave, they only say one thing: "It's been a long time since I've been able to sit so peacefully." It's the most beautiful way to express gratitude, a subtle acknowledgment that the tranquil space they maintain has touched someone in a very gentle way.

When they think of each other, they both understand that if they hadn't met, their lives would probably still be fine. But as Nhi said, they would be missing something very important. They believe that the romance they share doesn't come from a tea shop, but from their shared choice of a slow pace of life in a context where… it's not easy to find someone who shares that pace. Hoang Mai tea, with its elegant spring fragrance, has become a symbol of everything they cherish: tranquility, love, family traditions, and the careful preservation of the pure beauty of life through generations. The lingering aroma of the tea is like a New Year's wish for health, prosperity, abundance, and warmth.