Matcha, you’ve seen it everywhere recently. From your friends’ photo dumps to your local café’s display board. Not everyone loves it, but those who do simply can’t get enough…literally.
The trouble is that the worldwide craze is taking a toll on the Japanese farmers cultivating your cup of green goodness, but what exactly is happening?
First of all, why has the drink become so popular? The craze has a lot to owe to fitness and wellbeing influencers on social media. The visually striking vibrant beverage perfectly placed next to a Pilates mat or a laptop has made the tea synonymous with productivity, health, and organisation. But it isn’t all just aesthetics; the drink (hot or iced) has a plethora of health benefits.
For example, matcha is rich in antioxidants and dense in nutrients such as Vitamin C, magnesium, and zinc. Additionally, many people prefer the boost that matcha provides to the one gained from drinking coffee, claiming that it provides them with clear alertness rather than jitters or anxiety associated with coffee. This is because matcha contains L-theanine which is linked with enhanced cognitive function and stress relief. But that’s not all the drink has to offer, it is also associated with balancing cholesterol levels, improving heart health, increasing metabolism, anti-inflammatory effects, and blood sugar management.
Everything’s great, right? Wrong. Japanese tea farms simply can’t keep up with the pace at which matcha is being consumed, and this is for a variety of reasons. Tencha plants which matcha is derived from need three years of growth before they’re ready to harvest; this means farmers can’t simply just plant more crops to keep up with demand. But that’s not the only thing slowing down the process; stone mills which are the traditional method of grinding matcha powder are only able to produce about 40g an hour which is around one tin.
If you sacrifice the intensity of this beautiful and meaningful 800-year-old process, you sacrifice traditional, ceremonial-grade matcha. Sizing up and speeding up production would mean sacrificing traditional, ceremonial-grade matcha. Production time isn’t the only problem faced by the farmers.
Record heatwaves in the Kyoto region, which produces around a quarter of Japan’s matcha, have led to a poor yield in the harvest. Additionally, Japan’s farmers are aging and retiring with too few younger people entering the industry, meaning the workforce is shrinking.
The result is: supplies depleting, prices growing, and low-grade matcha sneaking its way onto the market. It has been suggested that we limit our consumption to matcha in its purest form by buying high-grade matcha from authentic suppliers, rather than slapping it on doughnuts or sticking it in frappes. Matcha’s rise in popularity has benefited the farmers economically and is a lovely cultural exchange highlighting Japanese tradition. But the current craze serves as a pertinent reminder to savour the sanctity of your sip of another culture instead of mindlessly overconsuming.