Sadōtini. Credit: Stephen Recchia

The Matcha Craze Is Real—And Complicated

10 Minute read

21 Jul 2025

Journalist

Matcha may be trending, but its roots run deep. As the world scrambles for more, those who know better are fighting to preserve its care and craft.

At its core, there’s nothing trendy about matcha. It requires painstaking farming practices—often on family-run farms—and precise ceremonial rituals. None of that typically screams trend. And yet, matcha is everywhere. There are matcha lattes at Dunkin’ Donuts, matcha baked into candies and cookies, and matcha starring in yogurt drinks like the one I’m sipping right now from Hey! I Am Yogost, the ultra-trendy Canadian chain that just opened in Philadelphia. On my walk there, I passed two matcha ice cream shops—Matcha Panda and Matcha Cafe Maiko—each selling a familiar flavor trio: matcha, ube, and hojicha. But make no mistake: these shops are entirely dedicated to matcha.

Earthy, grassy, and lightly bitter, matcha can be pure magic when combined with milk and sugar. Beyond the beverage boom, matcha has also found its way onto cocktail and dessert menus. Its surge in popularity has even sparked global shortages—and a few fights among fans who suddenly can’t get their hands on it.

If we haven’t reached peak matcha yet, we’re close.

What’s the Difference Between Matcha and Green Tea?

True matcha is grown in Japan. Its production involves three key steps that distinguish it from other green teas: shading the plants before harvest, removing stems and veins from the leaves, and pulverizing the leaves into a fine powder. Unlike other green teas, the leaves are never rolled.

Tencha, the precursor to matcha, goes through its own careful process—shading the tea plants, steaming the harvested leaves to prevent oxidation, drying them to reduce moisture, and removing all stems and veins to leave only the soft leaf. The final step is grinding the leaves with a stone mill. According to tea consultant Alexis Siemons, that final step is now happening in-house at serious matcha cafés across the U.S.

But while matcha needs coddling, it doesn’t always get it.

“It’s a delicate tea,” said Siemons. “If you use water that’s too hot, you can burn the flavor. If you don’t sift it or remove the clumps, it’ll be a very granular experience. That’s been my experience at cafés on the East Coast. If you skip those two key steps and treat it like an Earl Grey tea bag, it’s going to be awful.”

For cooking, Siemons recommends using culinary-grade matcha, which “has a more pronounced flavor that can come through [baking and cooking processes].” But she warns: “More is not more. Even if you’re baking with it, sifting should always be part of the process.”

Almanac's Sadōtini. Credit: Stephen Recchia

Why is the Matcha Craze Happening Now?

“It’s a merge of self-care and aesthetic trends,” said Siemons. “I look at Gen Z and see how they’re celebrating self-care and daily rituals, which naturally lend themselves to matcha. To give matcha what it deserves, you need to treat it like a ritual.”

Matcha, she noted, can be relatively affordable depending on the type you purchase—and it doesn’t require expensive equipment, just the right tools. Its process is beautiful, colorful, and perfectly suited for Instagram and TikTok’s get-ready-with-me content.

The Problem with Matcha’s Ubiquity

“It boggles my mind on a daily basis—but it doesn’t,” said Siemons. “I’m enthused by what I see and deeply upset because all my favorite places are sold out. I’m happy for the farmers selling their product. My only concern is I don’t want them to change the method and the pace of producing matcha.”

Between matcha and Dubai chocolate, vibrant green hues have taken over. Neither trend shows signs of slowing down, and the ripple effects—shortages, supply strain, and quality dilution—are being felt by farmers, suppliers, and chefs. For matcha, the boom is a blessing laced with curses.

“There’s so much bad matcha out there, and it allows [the bad ones] to shine, which can tarnish what matcha actually is,” said Siemons. “Matcha isn’t a fad. In reality, matcha is closest to wine in its process, attention, and care.”

Matcha Strawberry Semifreddo Sandwich. Credit: Altamarea Group

From the Bar to the Pastry Case

Matcha has made its way onto cocktail menus, including at Philadelphia’s Almanac—an intimate bar located above the city’s most high-end omakase counter, Ogawa. There, matcha is treated with both reverence and playfulness. Measured on a scale and whisked fresh at the bar, the Sadōtini is garnished with a single stick of Matcha Pocky.

Head bartender Rob Scott and drinks consultant Danny Childs originally considered a dirty matcha martini—essentially an espresso martini with matcha—but scrapped it. “It looked kind of hideous and didn’t do either flavor justice,” said Scott. Instead, they leaned into the fresh, grassy sweetness people love in a matcha latte. To achieve creaminess without cream, they created a base of amazake, fermented with koji and rice porridge in-house, then added matcha, Roku Japanese gin, sweet potato shochu, and egg white for texture.

“Sadōtini” is a portmanteau of “martini” and sado (also called chado), the word for Japanese tea ceremony. “We always make the matcha fresh for every drink,” said Scott. “It’s a small, emblematic part of the tea ceremony. This isn’t a true tea ceremony, but it’s a nod.”

“It’s our most labor-intensive cocktail,” he added. “It’s been number one since day one. While we’ve streamlined other drinks, it’s nice to let people see a bit of the process. In a lot of bartending, we’ve removed some of the showmanship. It’s nice to have principled ones [like the Sadōtini] showing our ethos and process.”

Matcha also stars on the dessert menu at New York’s 53, but its rising popularity has forced chef Mark Yu to rethink how much of it he can use. “It’s been hard to source,” said Yu. “When we first opened in 2022, we had a matcha ganache dessert with black tea crumble and black cardamom mousse. It took a lot of matcha to make—it was our signature. But it became so difficult to source.”

At its peak, 53 sold about 30 matcha ganaches per night. When they tried to bring the dish back, they couldn’t get enough matcha to meet demand. The current seasonal offering—a matcha strawberry semifreddo sandwich with thyme—uses less matcha, and sells about 15 to 20 each night.

“We had to figure out a dessert that didn’t use as much matcha,” said Yu. Three years ago, he was buying 1-kilo bags of culinary matcha. Now he buys 2-ounce packs. “Prices have gone up about 15 to 20 percent. It’s like toilet paper. People freak out,” he said. “And it’s not just America. The craze is everywhere. You can’t store it—some people hoard it and ruin it for everyone else.”

But as a chef who worked through the pandemic, Yu added: “We’re used to shortages.”

Like ramps, truffles, and caviar, matcha has joined the ranks of ingredients we’ve collectively lost our minds over. Everyone wants it—even if it means consuming it to the last leaf. Might we consider seaweed? Fig leaves? Something a little more sustainable?

Still, Siemons sees hope in where the craze is headed. “The only direction we can go is up,” she said. “Matcha pop-ups are huge right now. People are craving a better format for matcha. What I see slowly emerging is a true care for matcha.”

If we’re currently in the Starbucks Frappuccino era, she believes it will eventually give way to more thoughtful sourcing—just as Starbucks paved the way for better coffee.

“You have to start with good product in the food world,” said Siemons. “You can’t turn rotten lemons into lemonade.”

21 Jul 2025