Country

Japan

Japan grows almost nothing but green tea, and it steams the leaf instead of pan-firing it. That single fork accounts for most of what a Japanese cup tastes like: green, marine and savoury rather than toasted. The other national habit is shading the bushes for weeks before picking, which pushes sweetness and umami up and bitterness down, and which is where gyokuro, tencha and matcha come from.

Where Japan isPlace data © GeoNames (CC-BY 4.0), Natural Earth, Wikidata (CC0) and OpenStreetMap contributors (ODbL)
teabert, the tealytics teapot, keeper of the kettle
Steaming is why Japanese green tastes of the sea where Chinese green tastes of a warm pan. If one of them has always disappointed you, switch camps before you start fiddling with your water.

What grows here

Sencha is the bulk of it, in standard and deep-steamed forms. Above it sit the shaded teas: kabusecha, then gyokuro, then tencha, which is ground into matcha. Below it the everyday teas: bancha from later and coarser picking, kukicha from stems, konacha and mecha out of the sorting, plus roasted hojicha and genmaicha with toasted rice. Kyushu keeps the exceptions, above all around Ureshino in Saga: kamairicha, pan-fired rather than steamed, and tamaryokucha, which skips the final shaping roll and stays curled. Shizuoka and Kagoshima dominate by volume, Kyoto and Fukuoka by reputation.

The ground

Temperate rather than subtropical, which shapes the calendar more than the flavour: one clear spring flush, a coarser summer and frost as a real risk. The south is volcanic, and Kagoshima's deep, free-draining ash soils sit on ground flat enough for full mechanisation, which is why the prefecture grows so much. Kyoto's Uji basin and Shizuoka's inland valleys work the other way: river fog, cool nights and steep slopes worked by hand or by small machines.

The bushes

Yabukita, a single selection made in 1908, covers most of the planted area in Japan. That makes the national cup unusually uniform and makes any other cultivar a deliberate choice. Growers reach for Saemidori and Asatsuyu when they want more sweetness, Okumidori to spread the harvest later, and Yutakamidori for early picking in Kagoshima. Uji's shaded teas lean on Samidori, Gokou and Asahi. Benifuuki was bred in Kagoshima for black tea, but the methylated catechin it is now grown for is destroyed by oxidation, so it is usually made as a green tea instead.

Harvest seasons

Ichibancha, the first flush, runs from late April in the south into May further north, and shincha is simply that leaf sold fresh. The traditional marker is the eighty-eighth night counted from the start of spring, around 2 May, still quoted as a quality date. Nibancha follows in June and sanbancha later, each coarser and more bitter than the last. Gyokuro and tencha are almost entirely first-flush, because shading a later picking is not worth the work.

How it is made here

Steaming, within hours of picking, is the step that defines Japanese tea: thirty to forty seconds for a standard sencha and roughly a minute to three for fukamushi, which breaks the leaf down into the fine particles that give a cloudy, thick, forgiving cup. A long rolling and drying line then works the leaf into needles. The second Japanese habit is structural: the farmer sells aracha, unfinished tea, and a merchant does the final firing, sorting and blending. That is why so much Japanese tea is a blend, and why the finisher's name can matter as much as the field.

What to look for

'Ceremonial grade' is not a Japanese term and carries no standard; a harvest year, a named producer or blender and a cultivar tell you far more. Expect a finisher's name rather than a farm's, because the aracha trade means most Japanese tea is blended by someone who did not grow it. Regional names are loose for the same reason. Uji is the clearest case: the Kyoto trade's own definition lets leaf grown in Nara, Shiga or Mie be sold as Uji tea so long as a Kyoto firm finishes it inside Kyoto.

How it got here

Tea arrived from China with monks and stayed a Buddhist and courtly habit for centuries. Eisai's Kissa Yojoki of 1211 argues for it as medicine and marks the point where powdered tea took hold, the line that leads to matcha and to the tea ceremony. Uji became the shogunal supply and has traded on that ever since. Modern Japanese tea starts in 1738, when Nagatani Soen worked out the steamed and rolled method at Ujitawara, just south of Uji, producing sencha, which displaced almost everything else within a century.