Introduction
Not long ago, matcha was something you’d only see in the calm setting of a Japanese tea ceremony, whisked slowly in silence. Today, that same green powder is everywhere—spilled across TikTok feeds, stacked on supermarket shelves, and swirling in Starbucks cups from New York to Paris. In just a few years, matcha has jumped from ritual to trend, from mindfulness to mass market.
But every glowing green latte hides a less photogenic truth. Unlike coffee beans, which can be grown by the ton across entire continents, matcha demands near-perfect conditions: shade, fertile soil, and skilled hands able to pluck only the youngest leaves. The result is a drink that looks effortless but is anything but.
Now, as China races to meet the world’s appetite, the question is no longer “Will you try matcha?” but “How long can this craze last before it breaks the very system that makes it possible?”
What makes matcha unique
Matcha is not just another type of green tea—it’s a drink that requires far more precision than most people realize. A few weeks before harvest, farmers cover the plants with shade cloth. This slows growth and changes the chemistry of the leaves, giving them a softer texture, deeper color, and sweeter flavor.
When it’s time to harvest, only the youngest leaves are chosen, often by hand. They are quickly steamed, carefully dried, and slowly ground into a fine powder on stone mills. That grinding process is so laborious that it can take an hour to produce a handful of servings.
Coffee can be planted and processed in bulk across wide regions. Matcha, in contrast, depends on specialized steps that limit how much can realistically be produced. And that’s where global demand begins to collide with tradition.
The Global Craze
In just a few years, matcha has gone from a niche product to a worldwide obsession. Walk into almost any café in New York, London, or Berlin, and you’ll see matcha lattes on the menu. Bakeries use it in cakes and croissants, and beauty brands even add it to skincare. On TikTok and Instagram, the bright green powder has become a must-have ingredient for “aesthetic” drinks and morning routines.
What makes matcha different from coffee is the speed of this trend. Coffee spread across the world over centuries; matcha exploded in less than a decade. Social media played a huge role in this—turning a traditional tea into a lifestyle symbol. It’s marketed as healthier, cleaner, and more premium, which is why people are willing to pay extra for it.
But the hype has a downside. While coffee is supported by a vast farming and trade system built over generations, matcha still relies on fragile methods with limited output. The mismatch between rising demand and restricted supply is growing harder to ignore.
The Farming Challenge
On the surface, producing matcha looks simple: grow tea, grind it, drink. But in reality, the process is demanding. The plants require steady weather, rich soil, and reliable rainfall. Farmers must also construct shade systems to protect the leaves from too much sun, adding both cost and labor.
Harvesting is selective—only the tender top leaves are used, which keeps yields small. Coffee can be harvested by machine on giant plantations, but matcha fields remain dependent on careful, hands-on work.
Efforts to expand production often compromise quality. Poorly handled leaves lose their vivid color and develop a harsh taste, while intensive farming drains nutrients from the soil and forces heavier reliance on chemicals. In short, the methods that define authentic matcha are the very ones that limit its ability to be mass-produced.
China’s Dilemma
Japan may be the cultural home of matcha, but China has become one of its biggest suppliers. As demand skyrockets, international buyers turn to Chinese producers for cheaper and larger volumes. On paper, it looks like an opportunity; in practice, it’s a balancing act.
Some farms have expanded into unsuitable regions, while others depend heavily on fertilizers and pesticides to push production. These shortcuts erode soil health and reduce long-term fertility. Quality can also suffer, as speed and volume take priority over taste and nutrition.
Then there’s price volatility. When harvests are disrupted or global supply dips, costs spike. For small-scale farmers, this creates financial risk and dependency on a single, unstable crop. What seems like a lucrative boom today could quickly become a trap tomorrow.
Broader Context: Lessons from Coffee
Coffee has been through its own growing pains. From its origins in Ethiopia, it spread to Latin America, Africa, and Asia, eventually becoming one of the world’s most traded commodities. Along the way, it developed global supply chains and systems like Fair Trade to protect farmers and stabilize markets. These don’t fix everything—coffee still struggles with climate change, deforestation, and poor wages—but they provide structure.
Matcha is racing through this process in fast-forward. In less than two decades, it has gone from a traditional ritual drink to a global lifestyle brand. The difference is that matcha lacks the scale and safeguards that coffee developed over centuries. Its production methods resist industrialization, making it far more fragile in the face of sudden demand.
Coffee found ways to adapt, however imperfectly. Matcha may not be able to—and could lose what makes it special in the process.
The Wellness Paradox
Much of matcha’s appeal comes from its image. It’s sold as a gentler, cleaner alternative to coffee: steady energy without the crash. Influencers praise its antioxidants and amino acids, and the iconic green latte has become shorthand for self-care and balance.
But the reality behind the branding is far less balanced. The push to increase supply has led to soil depletion, pesticide use, and the spread of monoculture farming—especially in China. The drink people associate with purity often carries hidden environmental costs.
Coffee has long been criticized for similar issues, but it has also taught consumers to ask questions about sourcing and sustainability. With matcha, those conversations are only just beginning.
Conclusion
Matcha’s journey from ceremonial tea to global craze shows how quickly tradition can be transformed into a trend. In only a short time, it has become a symbol of health and luxury—but also a product that puts heavy pressure on the land and the people who grow it.
Unlike coffee, which built up an international industry over centuries, matcha is being pushed into mass production almost overnight. The delicate methods that give it its flavor and value cannot easily be scaled. As China works to keep up, the risks grow: weaker quality, environmental damage, and unstable livelihoods for farmers.
The irony is hard to miss. A drink promoted as calming and sustainable may turn into one of the least sustainable trends yet. The challenge now is whether matcha can adapt without losing its soul—or whether it will burn out as the world’s latest obsession.
