Matcha

I spent years as a coffee addict. Serious about it. Started at a design agency during my media training, and it never really stopped. Regular lattes at first, then whatever fancy drinks Starbucks had, then black americanos with nothing—just the necessary bitter hit. Eventually it was only about the effect. The jolt. Two pots a day until my stomach was screaming, my hands wouldn’t stop shaking, and sleep was impossible.

My first time in Japan, a friend named Sari took me to a ramen place in Harajuku and poured me matcha with the meal. That was it. The color, the smell, the taste—something about it felt different. And the caffeine works different too. Enough to carry you through anything without that jittery, nauseous feeling coffee had started giving me. After that cup, matcha became my thing. Wherever I go now, I’m looking for good green tea, ideally matcha.

There’s a documentary on Arte right now about where matcha actually comes from. How it’s grown and processed, the people doing it for generations, their stories. Most people hear documentary about tea and think how dull that must be. But it’s not dull at all. It’s actually calming to watch. Meditative. The kind of thing that reminds you not everything needs to be loud or flashy to matter.