TOKYO, Japan: Matcha, the finely ground green tea powder long associated with Japan's centuries-old tea ceremony, has become a global sensation.

Once reserved for ritual and contemplation, it is now being whipped into lattes, blended into ice cream, baked into cakes, and even infused into chocolate. From Melbourne to Los Angeles, cafés and bakeries are riding the wave of matcha's popularity, while cookbooks brimming with recipes and tourists carrying home tins of the green powder testify to its worldwide appeal.

The craze has grown so rapidly that supply is struggling to keep pace—particularly for premium-grade matcha. Starbucks has made its Matcha Crème Frappuccino a menu staple across its global stores, a sign of how the tea has transformed into a mainstream flavor, consumed more like fruit juice than a ceremonial elixir.

Japan Pushes to Expand Supply

The Japanese Ministry of Agriculture has taken notice. Determined not to let the matcha craze fade as a fad, the ministry is supporting farmers with financial aid, advanced machinery, new soil treatments, and counseling to encourage a shift from producing standard green sencha to cultivating tencha, the leaf variety used to make matcha.

"Matcha should not just be a trend—we want it to be established as both a flavor and a symbol of Japan as a global brand," said Tomoyuki Kawai, a ministry official in charge of tea.

Government statistics show tencha production has surged, nearly tripling from 1,452 tons in 2008 to 4,176 tons in 2023. Tea exports have also more than doubled in the past decade, with the United States now accounting for about one-third of overseas demand. Much of that growth has been driven by matcha.

Yet challenges loom. Japan's aging farming population is shrinking, raising concerns of labor shortages that could limit future production. Meanwhile, competitors such as China and Southeast Asian countries have entered the market, prompting Japan to move quickly to reinforce its identity as the authentic birthplace of matcha.

Tradition Meets Modern Craze

Interestingly, practitioners of sado, the Japanese way of tea, have not condemned the surge in popularity. Instead, they regard it with cautious curiosity. For them, the tea ceremony embodies values far removed from mass-market frappuccinos and trendy desserts.

"The tea ceremony reminds us to cherish every encounter as unique and unrepeatable," said Keiko Kaneko, a licensed instructor. She described the narrow doorway of her tea house, designed so even samurai had to bow and leave their swords behind, a symbol that in the world of tea, all are equals. The stillness and simplicity of sado, rooted in the 16th-century teachings of Sen no Rikyu and the wabi-sabi aesthetic of rustic beauty and imperfection, stand in sharp contrast to the noisy global frenzy for matcha.

For tea merchants, however, the craze is an opportunity. Minoru Handa, the third-generation owner of Tokyo Handa-en, a family-run tea store founded in 1815, sees matcha's versatility as key to its appeal. Unlike traditional tea leaves, matcha powder can be mixed effortlessly into almost any food or beverage.

Handa's shop, which sources its supply from long-time growers in Kagoshima, has managed to keep shelves stocked even amid soaring demand. Still, wary of eager customers' stockpiling, he limits purchases to one can per person.

As Japan works to balance the preservation of cultural tradition with the demands of a booming global market, matcha sits at a crossroads: both a centuries-old ritual of calm and a 21st-century lifestyle trend, cherished for reasons as varied as its uses.