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The Matcha Meltdown and How TikTok, Oat Milk, and Climate Chaos Are Brewing a Green Crisis

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It started with a whisk and a vibe. Now it's a global panic.


Demand for matcha, that vibrant, powdered punch of green tea so loved by wellness influencers, oat milk baristas, and TikTok’s Gen Z elite, is skyrocketing so fast that the world's traditional tea farms are quite literally running dry. The Japanese farms producing tencha, the shaded green tea leaves ground into matcha, simply can’t keep up. And it’s not just a social media surge. It’s a full-blown supply chain crisis.


Public Domain - Matcha Tea Powder
Source: Public Domain - Matcha Tea Powder

Tencha, for the uninitiated, is the raw material behind real matcha. Grown under shade to boost chlorophyll and cut bitterness, it’s then steamed, dried, and stone-milled into that green magic dust slurped in overpriced lattes and reels. But tencha isn’t easy. It’s a slow art. And right now, that art is under siege.


In Kyoto, Japan’s spiritual heartland of matcha, farmers have reported a 25 percent drop in tencha harvests this year due to record heat, ageing workforces, and plain old exhaustion. Auction prices have exploded. One kilo of premium tencha recently fetched more than 8,200 yen (more than USD$50) , nearly double last year. That’s not just a farming problem. That’s a latte problem. A bubble tea problem. A TikTok meltdown waiting to happen.


Meanwhile, plant-based milk giants like Oatly are pushing even more matcha into the mainstream. Their preproduced matcha lattes, creamy, caffeinated, and algorithmically photogenic, are now popping up in global supermarket chains and barista menus. With oat milk’s mellow flavour making it the unofficial soulmate of ceremonial-grade matcha, you’ve got a caffeinated content engine with no brakes and no backup plan.


In the UK, Holland & Barrett report a 77 percent spike in matcha powder sales. Across Asia, Gen Z café chains are swapping espresso for emerald. In Australia, matcha bars are becoming what froyo shops were to the 2000s, but green, green, green. Everyone wants the glow. The vibe. The moment.


Source: Oatly - Public Domain - Matcha Coffee and Matcha Drinks


But what happens when the moment outpaces the method?

Matcha production isn’t built for viral scalability. Stone milling tencha yields only about 40 grams of matcha an hour. That’s enough for maybe 20 lattes or one influencer’s morning routine. Even with hybrid machinery, scaling takes years. You can’t fast-forward five seasons of tencha cultivation because TikTok discovered “that girl” aesthetics.


Ceremonial-grade matcha still makes up just six percent of Japan’s total tea output. It’s artisanal. Regional. Rooted in centuries of precision and ritual. Which makes the whole thing feel increasingly like trying to fuel a Tesla fleet with hand-pressed olive oil.


Some tea growers are adapting. Farms outside Uji and Kyoto are getting government support to scale up production. Labelling is becoming tiered, everyday matcha versus the high-end ceremonial varietals now being rationed for loyal buyers. Some companies are even developing “matcha-style” green powders using lower-grade tea or alternative leaves. But let’s not kid ourselves, purists won’t go for that. And neither will the TikTok girlies whose morning froths rely on that grassy, slightly bitter hit of the real thing.


The paradox is brutal. The more it gets posted, the less it gets poured. And as weather extremes hit Japanese agriculture harder each year, the core problem isn’t going away.


So what now? Will lab-grown matcha step in? Doubtful. Will synthetic green dust replace the taste and ceremony of true tencha? Not without a consumer revolt. For now, it’s a game of musical teacups. Prices will rise. Imports may falter. Scarcity will sell. And oat milk brands banking on matcha as their Next Big Blend may need to diversify before the foam settles.





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