It’s a wonderful mix of sweet and sour from the fruit, with slight bitterness from the matcha. It’s a genius combination, whoever came up with it.

All it took was a cup which I bought from a cosy neighbourhood cafe, before it became a habit of mine to actively hunt for the best ones on weekends. Popular beverage chains like Starbucks and The Coffee Bean & Tea Leaf were rolling out their own versions of the drink, too. Almost every other bubble tea joint – including one near my flat – was also jumping on the bandwagon, making it available everywhere.

The places I frequented, which sell the iced drink for between $10 and $12.90 a cup, have in my book nailed the most ideal ratio of strawberry puree to matcha to milk.

Social media definitely played a part in driving the obsession. It wasn’t long before I started seeing Instagram stories and reels of friends attempting to create their own matcha lattes at home.

Plus, my Instagram Explore page was inundated with matcha-related content, from matcha-pouring videos to how-to posts on matcha fusion recipes.

There are even accounts fully dedicated to the experimentation of coupling matcha with other flavours or ingredients like mango, blueberry, coffee and coconut water. US-based TikTok user @kaitlinzheng is one of them – her most-viewed video on “four things you need to make matcha at home” racked up 2.7 million views on the platform.

About 202 million posts on TikTok and 9.1 million posts on Instagram are tagged to #matcha – yes, that’s how photogenic the bright, creamy green is.

I started going down the rabbit hole of watching people make their own drink, from brewing their own Earl Grey syrup as a sweetener to using an electric whisk to blend matcha with hot water. I am sure it was a classic case of Fomo – the fear of missing out – and wanting to join in on the trend.

But the end result was that I became genuinely curious about how doable it was, and was sold on the marketed benefits of matcha, such as the high amount of antioxidants and increased focus I would get from drinking it.

After hours of scrolling, I spent about $50 to purchase my first 100g of matcha powder, a measuring spoon, sieve and electric whisk.

Coincidentally, my mother had started making her own strawberry jam to go with plain bread or crackers. At this point, all signs pointed to a “yes” for making my own matcha latte. Having a fresh tub of homemade jam in the fridge felt like half the battle was already won.

After I started making the drink at home, I not only felt a sense of accomplishment, but also stopped craving and buying matcha lattes when I went out with friends or family.

Matcha making and drinking have a long tradition. Matcha lattes, despite their massive popularity worldwide now, occupy only a blip in the timeframe of matcha’s prominence. The Japanese tea ceremony goes back to the 1560s, and some of Japan’s leaders would take part in one along with other tea masters.

Before matcha lattes were a thing, my friend Amelia had already been making her own matcha drink occasionally in 2016 after buying her first tin during a trip to Shizuoka in Japan – before picking up the habit again in 2024 and doing it regularly.

Unlike Amelia, I never really understood the appeal of hand whisking (an electric whisk seems much more convenient for a time-strapped reporter), until a recent holiday to Japan in June.

In June 2025, the writer went for a matcha-making class in Japan. PHOTO: THE STRAITS TIMES

I signed myself up for a matcha-making class, and found myself learning how to use traditional tools such as a chawan (tea bowl) and a chasen (bamboo whisk) in a Japanese tea ceremony. A staff member said that when she was in school, she went through three years of training to learn the history, practice and significance of preparing and serving the tea.

In my one-hour class, a local trainer demonstrated best practices in matcha making, which include keeping silent while preparing the matcha, straightening one’s posture, and making sure the artwork reflected on the tea bowl faces the guest so they can drink it while admiring the design.

Almost instantly, I felt a pang of guilt for being unaware of the meaning and culture behind this.

I also made a spontaneous half-day trip to Uji in Kyoto to visit a historical green tea museum, where visitors can sign up to grind tea leaves into matcha powder by using a tea millstone. Due to a surge in demand, there was a small sign at the museum’s merchandise store which said visitors were limited to buying one 30g tin of matcha powder each.

I learnt about the cultivation of tea leaves there, and the direct impact climate and terrain have on the harvest. The tea fields for tencha, a type of tea leaf that is ground into matcha, are covered with reed blinds to protect them from direct sunlight. It also takes about four to five years to grow the trees before the matcha can be harvested.

And of course, many people are involved in the tea business – there’s tremendous pressure on maintaining the tradition of tea production in the Uji region, which has been passed down from generations of farmers and tea merchants.

US-based consulting firm Grand View Research noted that the global matcha market size is expected to reach US$7.43 billion (S$9.55 billion) by 2030, up from US$4.3 billion in 2023.

My colleague Sherlyn Sim previously reported that popular Japanese matcha brands like Marukyu Koyamaen and Ippodo Tea have imposed a cap on the number of products customers can buy in Japan, which has led to some businesses in Singapore feeling the impact and raising their prices on products by 10 per cent to 15 per cent since mid-October 2024.

I can’t help but wonder: Is there a better way for us to enjoy the drink without pushing the global matcha supply – and prices – to its limits?

Furthermore, a recent Reuters report highlighted that the Kyoto region, which is responsible for about a quarter of Japan’s production of matcha, has been hit by severe heatwaves, which led to weak yields in the recent April to May harvest

I still love my matcha and have started whisking at home – with a bamboo whisk, of course – but each time I do so, I remind myself not to let our pursuit of the trend or ikigai (which means purpose) somewhat erode the tradition and true meaning behind it.

It’s way more than drinking tea and fitting in with the crowd. It’s also about learning how to take a pause amid the daily hustle and noise, and to be mindful about our limited resources as well as the needs of others.