The smell of tea was everywhere. Five thousand people moved through Seattle Center — tasting, asking questions, learning. And there I was, a Mongolian woman with a pot of tea, teaching strangers that the cup in their hands is medicine.
As a tea educator at Seattle Center, I had one of the great joys of my work: introducing thousands of people to tea culture. Not just "this tastes good" — but what different teas do for the body, how to taste with attention instead of rushing, how tea has been used for centuries as daily, gentle medicine. People learned. They tasted. They asked wonderful questions. Five thousand cups of curiosity, and I tried to honor every one of them.
I have now spoken at the NW Tea Festival two years in a row — in 2025 and again in 2026 — and they invited me back, which tells me the message is landing. I also had the honor of speaking at the NW Herbal Festival, bringing the same teaching to people who love plants and traditional healing. Everywhere I go, I share the same culture I grew up with: in Mongolia, we do not separate food from healing. Tea is not just a drink. Food is not just fuel. They are medicine we take every day, three times a day, for our whole lives. This is not a new idea I invented — it is an old idea I am lucky to carry.
Tea lovers traveled from Oregon, Idaho, and all across Washington to be there. And something that made me so happy — I finally met many of my own clients in person, people from Oregon and Idaho who had only known me through a screen until that day. We hugged, we tasted tea together, we talked about their health face to face. It was so nice.
For many in these festival audiences, this way of thinking was completely new — and you could see it land in real time. Eyes widening. People nodding slowly. Long lines afterward, full of questions: which tea for digestion, which for sleep, how do I start? They loved the idea that something as simple as a warm cup could be part of caring for their health. It was eye-opening for them. And honestly, standing there watching it happen, it was deeply moving for me.
Teaching on a festival stage is its own skill, and these years have sharpened it. You have minutes, not hours. Your audience comes from every background imaginable. So I learned to make ancient wisdom simple and practical: taste this, notice that, try this at home tomorrow morning. No jargon, no lectures — just a cup of tea and an honest explanation of what it does in the body. Organizing the tastings, preparing the talks, reading a crowd of thousands — this is craft, and I am grateful for every stage that taught me.
What inspires me most is watching food wisdom cross cultures without needing translation. A stranger tastes something warm and earthy, feels something settle inside, and understands — no shared language required. We may come from different countries, but our bodies speak the same language. And our grandmothers, in every culture on earth, knew similar truths. Tea just happens to be the one I was given to share.
Thank you to the NW Tea Festival organizers for inviting me back two years running — that trust means everything to me. Thank you to the NW Herbal Festival for welcoming this teaching with open arms. Thank you to the volunteers who poured thousands of cups with smiling faces, and to every single person who stopped, tasted, and listened with an open mind. You are why festivals matter.
Tea is the simplest medicine I know. Brew a cup. Drink it warm. Pay attention to how you feel ten minutes later. That is food as medicine — it starts that small, and it belongs to every culture, including yours. Our grandmothers knew. Now we remember, one cup at a time, five thousand cups at a time.