The history of Vietnamese tea through the dynasties

The tea plant has grown on Vietnamese soil since ancient times — the century-old Shan Tuyet forests of Hà Giang, Suối Giàng and Tà Xùa still rise amid the mountain mist, living witnesses to a tradition older than any written record. Long ago, highland people already knew to pick wild tea leaves, roll them, and steep them in hot water — well before tea entered the imperial court.

Through a thousand years of cultural exchange, the custom of drinking tea gradually took shape in Vietnamese life. Tea was not merely a thirst-quencher but entered ritual, medicine, and etiquette: the cup offered to a guest became a symbol of hospitality, opening every meeting, celebration, and trade.

During the Lý–Trần dynasties, tea was intimately bound to the Zen monasteries. Monks drank tea before sitting in meditation to keep the mind awake; tea became part of their practice. The spirit of “Zen and tea, one flavour” took root here and seeped into the way Vietnamese have savoured tea ever since.

By the Lê dynasty, the pleasure of tea spread among scholars and common folk alike. On a bamboo bench or in a study, a plain cup of green tea was where literature was discussed and worldly affairs debated — humble yet refined, a familiar habit of the learned.

In the Nguyễn dynasty, the art of scenting reached its height with lotus tea. Each kilogram required thousands of West Lake lotus blossoms; the delicate lotus “rice” was picked out by hand and layered with the leaves over many nights until the tea absorbed the fragrance in full — a lavish labour reserved for cups shared among kindred spirits.

Under French rule, the first tea plantations rose in Phú Thọ and Thái Nguyên, then spread to the Bảo Lộc – Lâm Đồng highlands. The tea plant became an industrial crop, and for the first time Vietnamese tea sailed out to the world.

The history of Vietnamese tea still bears the mark of its Zen masters: King Trần Nhân Tông left the throne for Mount Yên Tử to found the Trúc Lâm Zen school, where a cup of tea was the companion of seated meditation. That spirit of 'Zen and tea' pervaded the monasteries of Đại Việt for centuries.

For West Lake lotus tea, the artisan must rise before dawn to pick out the lotus 'rice' — the tiny white grains at the tip of the stamen — then scent the tea seven times, each with a fresh layer of it. A thousand blossoms barely perfume a single kilogram: a lavish labour that folds a Hanoi summer into every cup.

Today, a cup of green tea on the porch remains the warmest invitation a Vietnamese can offer. From the ancient Shan Tuyet forests to the lush terraced tea hills, that thousand-year thread of fragrance has never been broken — it waits only for one who pauses long enough to notice.