Japan has a way of reminding me how far I’ve travelled.

Not just in miles, but in habits I see and the small rather insignificant things I notice. Trains that arrive exactly when they say they will. The unique sound some individual train stations have to remind sleepy (Jetlagged) passages they are at their destination. The understated but gloriously artistic display of food. Cafés that do one thing well and don’t explain themselves and very tasty drinks served without a story attached.

Matcha is like that. It isn’t positioned as an alternative to coffee or framed as something functional. It is simply part of daily life. Cold from vending machines in the heat, warm in small cafés with no rush. No one hard selling the health benefits and no one asking if you know what umami means.

On my trip to Japan last October, what did come up, quietly and repeatedly, was supply.

Conversations with producers and traders weren’t about growth or trends, but about limits. Shade time. Harvest windows. Milling techniques and capacity. The fact that good matcha is finite, and that recent demand has tightened things quickly. A few people said the same thing in different ways, there isn’t much slack in the system.

Those conversations weren’t formal meetings. They happened over tea, during short supplier visits whilst discussing our 2026 harvest, and in passing comments with shared understanding.

Back home, as it is across Europe and the US, matcha has hit with force. It appeared across menus almost simultaneously. We’ve been working with it at SUKI since 2008, long before supply tightened or demand accelerated.

Across cafés now, iced matcha is being chosen routinely. In many modern coffee shops it’s no longer a niche option, but a core drink. The iced matcha latte, in particular, has moved from experiment to staple. Menus loosen around it. Pricing holds. Customers don’t need convincing.

It helps that matcha looks good, but more importantly it delivers a different kind of energy. Naturally rich in L-theanine, an amino acid associated with steady focus, it offers an experience that feels calmer and more sustained. That goes a long way in explaining why matcha drinks repeat rather than flash and disappear.

As tea buyers, we’ve felt that shift too. Volumes have grown quickly over the last couple of years, and 2025 was unprecedented. For some operators matcha had already become a meaningful part of their drinks mix.

What matters now isn’t who started first, but how it’s done. We’re spending our time supporting cafés to source well, train properly, and build matcha into their menus in a way that lasts.

Japan reinforced something we already knew. Matcha only works if you take the long view. Relationships matter. Quality isn’t interchangeable. When supply tightens, it’s steady, considered partnerships that hold. That’s simply how this category works.

Matcha begins as Tencha, shade grown tea leaves harvested in tight seasonal windows. Once that window passes, you’re working with what’s been carefully stored and milled. This is where the distinction between ceremonial and culinary matcha becomes meaningful, not as a hierarchy, but as intent. The leaf, the season, and the use all matter.

I’m back again this July to further extend our Japanese Collection. Matcha lovers curiosity has started to turn to tea varieties such as Gyokuru, Genmaicha and Hojicha. I’m not there to chase volume, but to revisit gardens and the people behind these wonderful teas, to keep those conversations going and to source a few more varieties of tea. The same steady approach we’ve taken with matcha from the start. 

So while matcha becomes more visible on menus here, the real work is happening much further back, long before it reaches the cup. This part of the journey is rarely seen, but it’s what keeps things working. 

Oscar.