careful-parrot-9875 points

Matcha tea is a smooth, vibrant green beverage made by whisking finely ground green tea leaves into hot water. Unlike regular green tea, where the leaves are steeped and removed, matcha is fully consumed, which gives it a fuller body and a richer, more complex flavor. The taste is a blend of grassy freshness, gentle bitterness, and a deep, savory umami that lingers pleasantly. High-quality matcha can be surprisingly sweet and creamy, while lower grades tend to be more astringent. Preparing matcha is as much about the process as it is about the drink itself. The powder is first sifted into a bowl to break up any clumps, then a small amount of hot water—usually around 80°C—is added. Using a bamboo whisk, called a chasen, the tea is briskly whisked in a zigzag motion until a layer of fine, soft foam forms on top. This foam not only looks appealing but also softens the tea’s natural bitterness, creating a silky texture and smooth mouthfeel. There are two primary styles of matcha tea: usucha and koicha. Usucha, or thin tea, is lighter and frothy, offering a refreshing and balanced flavor—this is the kind you’ll often find at cafés or casual settings. Koicha, or thick tea, uses more powder and less water, resulting in a dense, velvety texture with a bold, concentrated taste. Koicha is typically reserved for formal tea ceremonies, where the ritual of preparing and drinking it becomes a slow, meditative experience. The tea’s striking green color comes from how the tea plants are grown. For several weeks before harvest, the plants are shaded from sunlight, which boosts their chlorophyll content and preserves amino acids like theanine. This process enhances the tea’s umami flavor while reducing bitterness. It’s also what gives matcha its calming effect despite containing caffeine—the theanine promotes a sense of focused relaxation, making it popular with those seeking gentle alertness rather than the jittery kick of coffee. Though matcha has deep roots in Japanese tea culture, where it’s long been associated with mindfulness and simplicity, it’s found new life in modern drinks like lattes, iced teas, and smoothies. Whether enjoyed during a traditional tea gathering or as part of a morning ritual at home, drinking matcha is about more than just taste—it’s a small, calming moment of pause in a busy day.

Black tea is the kind of drink that’s been around for ages, traded across continents, sipped at fancy afternoon teas, and downed in travel mugs on rushed mornings. It comes from the Camellia sinensis plant, just like green and white tea, but what sets it apart is the full oxidation of the leaves. That process turns them dark and gives black tea its deep reddish-brown color when brewed, along with that strong, punchy flavor that can be malty, smoky, fruity, or floral—depends on where it’s from and how it’s made. There are loads of varieties. Assam from India is bold and malty—perfect with a splash of milk. Darjeeling, often called the "champagne of teas," is lighter, floral, and sometimes a bit fruity. If you’re in the mood for something smoky, Lapsang Souchong from China tastes like someone brewed tea in a campfire—but in a good way. Ceylon from Sri Lanka strikes a nice balance—brisk and refreshing. The cool thing is, black tea keeps its flavor for years, unlike green tea that goes dull after a while, which made it ideal for long trade journeys back in the day. Brewing a cup is simple. Boil water (none of that lukewarm stuff), pour it over the tea leaves—or a tea bag if you’re in a hurry—and let it steep for 3 to 5 minutes. Go shorter if you like it mellow, longer if you’re after that strong kick. Milk and sugar? Sure, if that’s your thing. Lemon works too. Or just drink it plain and let the flavors do their thing. There’s something calming about it—the steam curling up from the cup, the earthy smell filling the room, the first warm sip hitting just right, like a hug in a mug. Whether you’re having a slow morning, taking a break in the afternoon, or catching up with a friend over a pot of it, black tea’s got that comforting, no-fuss charm. It’s simple, really—just leaves and water—but somehow, it always feels like a little ritual.

Green tea is a type of tea made from the leaves of the Camellia sinensis plant. Unlike black or oolong teas, green tea is made by heating the leaves soon after picking to prevent oxidation. This keeps the leaves green and gives the tea its fresh, grassy taste. It originally came from China but is now popular across East Asia, especially in Japan, Korea, and Vietnam. There are many kinds of green tea, depending on where it's grown, how it's processed, and when it's harvested. For example, Japan’s sencha is steamed, giving it a bright green color and a sweet flavor, while China’s longjing is pan-fired, making it more toasty and mellow. Making a cup is simple: just steep the leaves in hot water, but not boiling—usually around 70–80°C (160–175°F)—for a couple of minutes. If the water is too hot or you steep it too long, the tea can taste bitter. Green tea has been linked to many health claims, but the evidence is mixed. It does have some caffeine, though less than coffee, and contains antioxidants called catechins. People drink it for various reasons—some like the taste, some believe it helps with focus, and others just enjoy the ritual of making it. In the end, green tea is just a straightforward drink that’s been around for ages. Some people love it, some don’t—it’s really about what suits your taste.

Mint tea is a warm drink made by soaking fresh or dried mint leaves in hot water. It’s simple—just mint and water—but the taste is fresh and cool, with a hint of sweetness depending on the type of mint you use. Peppermint tea has a stronger, sharper flavor, while spearmint tea is milder and a bit sweeter. People often drink it to relax or help with digestion. It’s popular in many places around the world—like in Morocco, where it’s made with green tea and lots of sugar, or in India, where mint is sometimes added to chai. In Korea, they have a version called bakha-cha. Making it is easy: boil some water, pour it over the mint leaves, let it sit for a few minutes, and you’re good to go. Some folks like adding honey or lemon, but it’s just as nice plain. The smell alone is pretty calming—fresh, like a garden after rain.

Thai tea is a sweet, creamy drink made from strong black tea, usually Ceylon or a local version of Assam. It’s brewed with sugar and often flavored with condensed milk, giving it that rich, smooth taste and signature orange color. When served cold, it’s poured over ice, sometimes with a splash of evaporated milk on top for that creamy swirl. In Thailand, you’ll find it in tall glasses at restaurants or in plastic cups or bags from street vendors. Some places even turn it into a blended drink, like a frappé. There are variations too—like a version without milk called “dark Thai iced tea,” or one with lime for a citrusy kick. People drink it hot in the mornings as well, often with fried dough sticks.

"Antifragile: Things That Gain from Disorder" by Nassim Nicholas Taleb is a groundbreaking exploration of systems and entities that thrive and grow stronger in the face of stress, volatility, and chaos. Taleb introduces the concept of "antifragility," which goes beyond resilience or robustness. Through a mix of philosophy, practical wisdom, and real-world examples, Taleb illustrates how embracing uncertainty and leveraging disorder can lead to success and innovation. This book is essential for anyone interested in risk management, personal development, and understanding how to benefit from uncertainty and change.

What I Talk About When I Talk About Running is a memoir by Haruki Murakami where he talks about two things that define a big part of his life: running and writing. Murakami didn’t always plan on being a novelist. He was running a jazz bar in his twenties when, while watching a baseball game, he suddenly thought, “I could write a novel.” He gave it a shot, it worked out, and he eventually sold his bar to focus on writing full-time. But sitting at a desk all day, smoking and not moving much, wasn’t doing his health any good. That’s when he picked up running. For Murakami, running is more than just exercise—it’s part of his routine and, in a way, a metaphor for writing. Both take endurance. Both are long hauls where you push yourself day after day, even when you don’t feel like it. The book follows him as he trains for marathons, competes in triathlons, and grapples with the slow decline of his physical abilities as he ages. He talks a lot about acceptance—accepting getting older, accepting bad race times, and accepting that sometimes you just don’t do as well as you hoped. His attitude is basically: That’s life. You move on. The writing style is straightforward, like he’s just talking to you over a coffee. He doesn’t dress things up. Sometimes he rambles, mentioning things like cycling habits or going off on tangents about global warming. At one point, he describes running the original marathon route in Greece—sun blazing, salt stinging his eyes, everything uncomfortable. But through it all, there’s this calm acceptance. He’s not trying to convince anyone to run; he just shares what it means to him. By the end, what sticks isn’t just the running or the writing, but the way he embraces both the highs and the lows—the post-race blues, the joy of finishing, and the satisfaction of something as simple as a cold beer after a long run. It’s a book about effort, routine, and learning to keep going, no matter what.

Skin in the Game may be nice but The Black Swan is the OG Nicholas Taleb. Read this book to learn how to think and avoid biases and reread at least once very couple of years.

The best book about the best director in the world. It was such a great book it was adapted into a movie. Bet the other books on this list can't say that!

“I set out to write a book about what to do to make a great work of art. Instead, it revealed itself to be a book on how to be.” —Rick Rubin