Common tea. It conjures up images of a chipped cup with a murky liquid of ignoble taste. Whereas Sencha, common tea in Japanese, has a delicate sophistication a natural elegance, which is anything but common. I wonder whether the Japanese, who culturally prize modesty, came up with the name as an understatement. Or perhaps they called it common simply because the tea is extremely popular.

Although it is the most widely served tea in Japan, Sencha is a relatively new creation. Like Gyokuro it is a product of the Edo era, when a Buddhist monk from Saga, Baisao, ditched powder for leaves and started selling his new tea.

Sencha quickly became the symbol of the countryâ??s artistic renaissance, the drink of choice of the writers, calligraphers and intellectuals that flourished between the 17th and the 19th century. Among them, it became the embodiment of freedom against the stuffy, formal culture of traditional matcha. But as it often happens with revolutions, Sencha drinkers ended up adopting the behavior they had initially rejectedâ??to the point that the way of Sencha appears as formal as chanoyu to the uneducated eyes of this westerner, although experts assure me that it is more relaxed.

The principle behind the Sencha ceremony is to useprescribed movements to achieve a zen-like state. Perhaps I should have given it a shot today, as some zen calm would have done me a world of good. Instead, I caved in to my Western mind and made a quick Sencha on the hoof while working. I steeped one teaspoon of the leaves I had got from Soana a few weeks ago in 6oz steaming water. Luckily for me, magic happens quickly and it took just three minutes for my cup turned into a meadow of golden grass dotted with wild irises. The mouth was sweet and light with an ever so delicate vegetaley note in the end.

It was as beautiful, calming and relaxing as Monetâ??s waterlilies. And though I didnâ??t quite reach complete harmony between me and the wider universe, I went very close to it.