Interview With Don of Mei Leaf

Don Mei is someone who makes tea feel like a way in, rather than the point itself. A conversation with him rarely stays on the surface for long - it wanders through culture, family history, Chinese medicine, music, serendipity, and the strange, connective power of sharing a bowl of tea.

As the founder of Mei Leaf, Don has spent over twenty years sourcing and learning from tea at its source. What stands out isn’t just what he knows, but how he holds it: with curiosity, humility, and a willingness to keep changing his mind.

In this conversation, Don talks about how tea slowly drew him away from a career in music, the ideas people still get wrong about tea, and why paying attention to your own taste matters more than following rules.

Credit

First, I was hoping for a quick rundown on how you first got into tea, and what led you to create Mei Leaf.

I grew up in a family that was already deeply immersed in Chinese culture. In the 1970s my family started a business called East West Exchange, which was originally a bookshop importing translations of Chinese books, along with arts, crafts, and cultural objects. Over time, especially after Nixon’s visit to China, interest in Chinese medicine really started to grow in the UK. That gradually shifted the focus of the business.

My father went on to become a professor of Chinese medicine and opened what eventually became AcuMedic in London: the largest and oldest Chinese medicine clinic outside of Asia. I grew up around all of that, surrounded by the challenge of translating Chinese medicine for a Western audience.

At the same time, I was trying to juggle working in the family business with a career in music. It was during that period that I really noticed tea. Tea is one of the most ubiquitous drinks in the world - everyone thinks they know it - but from a Chinese medical perspective, it’s literally the first Chinese herb. That made it the perfect bridge. You start with something familiar like tea, and if people fall in love with it, you can gently walk them up the ramp into deeper ideas.

I also had this nagging sense that although the teas we were selling in the clinic were good, they could be much better. I set out to source higher-quality tea for the clinic, thinking it would take a few months. Those few months turned into more than 25 years.

Along the way, I had a real revelation about what tea could be; how little I knew, how extraordinary it was, and how deep the rabbit hole went. Eventually, I gave up music altogether and threw myself into tea full-time. That became Mei Leaf.

What were some of the biggest challenges when starting the business?

One of the hardest things about starting Mei Leaf in the UK is that the UK already has a very deep and rich tea culture. Ironically, that makes people assume they already know everything about tea.

When we started in the early 2000s, most people had no idea about matcha, the diversity of green teas, or really anything beyond the basics. For many, "Chinese tea" meant jasmine tea in a restaurant. That limited baseline made introducing new styles incredibly difficult.

The biggest challenge was building an audience from a place where people thought they knew tea already - and being willing to pay the price for education. We had to invest a huge amount of time explaining why quality matters and why different styles are worth exploring, long before the business side caught up.

How has Mei Leaf evolved since it started, and what’s the process you use to select which teas to offer?

In the beginning, we leaned heavily on the contacts we already had from importing Chinese herbs for the clinic. That gave us a foothold in China - people who knew people, who could help us taste and source tea. But that network was small, and it had to grow.

Over the years, we’ve built a much wider scouting and supply network through travel: farmers, producers, tea experts, and people who deeply understand what we’re looking for.

There’s a lot of romantic talk about buying “direct from farm” or “direct from producer,” but the reality is more complicated. Often the farmer isn’t the producer, and if you restrict yourself to buying from the same place every time, you’re not necessarily getting the best tea. As buyers, we keep the net as wide as possible. That can include farmers, producers, trusted intermediaries, and occasionally even export companies.

The wider the net, the better the options, but the harder the curation becomes. Being selective and deliberate about what actually makes it into Mei Leaf has become one of the most important parts of what we do.

Do you have a personal favourite tea, and if so, what makes it special?

I don’t really have one favourite, but I have a few that I’ll always have a soft spot for.

Dan Cong was one of the teas that launched me into tea. It was formative for my palate, and it also carries family meaning for me: my father’s mother was from South China, so that tea has a personal resonance beyond quality or price.

Longjing is another tea that means a lot to me. It was the first tea I truly fell in love with, and that moment completely changed my understanding of what tea could be.

These days, the tea I drink most often is sheng pu’erh, usually sheng that’s a few years old. That’s what I find myself reaching for again and again.

How do you recommend people explore new teas without feeling overwhelmed?

People often ask how to “get into” tea, and I don’t think the idea of entry-level versus advanced teas is very helpful. Who’s to say what an easier taste is? I’ve been surprised many times by people loving teas that others thought would be too complex.

The real answer is to drink as many teas as you can. Taste widely. One useful question to ask yourself is whether you’re drawn more to fragrance or to depth. Many people new to tea are attracted to fragrance-forward styles, so if I had to nudge someone, I might steer them toward medium to darker oolong teas rather than something like a very green Tieguanyin. Those oolongs can act as a bridge for people coming from a black tea reference point.

But ultimately, you just have to taste. The tea finds you - you don’t find the tea. And it’s crucial to understand that you don’t need to know anything to appreciate it. A lot of people feel they need intellectual knowledge before they’re allowed to enjoy tea, and that creates a barrier.

I always tell people: just because I’ve been doing this for 25 years doesn’t mean my taste is more valid than yours. At first it might feel like you’re flapping around, but over time you’ll start forming personal attachments. No one should tell you where to start.

Do you have a personal ritual when drinking tea?

Because of the nature of my work, it’s hard to ritualise tea in a traditional sense. Most of the day I’m sampling, with multiple bags, multiple cups, nothing very pretty or ceremonial.

That said, the first tea of the day is different. That one is for me, not for work. When I come down in the morning, I choose something I want to drink rather than something in the tasting queue.

It’s usually very simple: a gaiwan, most often just a plain white one that’s stained from years of use. Sometimes it’ll be a nicer gaiwan, but most of the time it’s the simple vessel I love.

Has there been a moment in your tea journey that completely surprised you?

I’m surprised all the time. Whenever I’m sourcing tea and talking to farmers and producers, I learn something new - and often not small things, but genuine revelations.

The biggest overall surprise is that you never stop being a student. That gives me great pleasure. I fully expect that in 30 years I’ll still be baffled by tea, still learning.

From a business perspective, the biggest surprise has been how effortlessly tea fosters connection. There’s a strange kind of alchemy to it that isn’t talked about enough. I see it in the teahouse, in our social media, and in letters people send us; stories about reconnecting with siblings, parents, partners. I always approached tea through taste and effect, but the depth of connection it creates has been one of the most profound discoveries.

Do you have any favourite memories from the field or shop that you’d like to share?

One thing I love about travelling for tea is serendipity. You have to trust the process. When you do, incredible things happen.

On one trip to Yunnan, we’d planned everything around a well-known supplier in the gushu world. But on the first night, he shifted the goalposts and said he wouldn’t take us to the fields unless we guaranteed a certain annual spend. That wasn’t what we’d agreed, and it made me realise I didn’t want to work with him.

We were stuck - until my mother-in-law happened to start chatting to someone at the airport, who turned out to be a tea farmer. We took a chance, went to Yiwu, and spent a few incredible days in this couple’s home, visiting their fields and tasting their teas.

That relationship became one of the most important for our pu’erh. The video we made from that trip, Tea Hunting in China, turned out far better than anything we’d planned. Some of my best memories come from moments like that, where failure opens the door to something extraordinary.

What’s the most unusual tea you’ve ever tried?

There have been plenty of oddball teas - things involving insects, for example - that were more strange than enjoyable.

But then there are teas that come out of nowhere and completely surprise you. One that stands out is Gem Juice Outlaw, a purple cultivar tea from Yunnan made into ripe pu’erh. I’d never been a huge fan of that cultivar, but made into ripe pu’erh it was astonishing.

Another was a black tea that had been stored badly and fermented into this almost alcoholic flavour. We called it “Bad Tea,” and people still ask us for it. We joke that maybe someone should store tea badly on purpose again.

We’ve also experimented with kombucha-ripened teas and heavily roasted sheng pu’erh, which was a big risk, but it worked. And then there are those moments when you drink a tea and it feels almost like taking a drug. That intensity stays with you.

Finally, what’s a misconception people often have about tea that you’d like to correct?

At a basic level, there are still big misconceptions about caffeine. People often assume green tea is low in caffeine and therefore “better,” which isn’t really accurate. There are also misunderstandings about tea plants - people think there are separate black tea and green tea bushes.

At a more advanced level, the biggest misconception is the idea that you need to understand tea intellectually before you can appreciate it. People don’t trust their own taste. They feel overwhelmed by choice, jargon, and rules.

The biggest mistake people make is not trusting their own discernment. Yes, experience adds nuance, but enjoyment doesn’t require mastery. Let go of the rules. Be freer with it. When people do that, they get so much more out of tea.