Uji Matcha

Tea has been grown in Uji since the thirteenth century, and the technique that made it famous is straightforward: cover the bushes for weeks before picking so the leaves grow in shade, producing softer, sweeter, darker leaf. Shaded leaf becomes gyokuro when steeped, or is dried and stripped to tencha and stone-ground into matcha, a powder whisked into water rather than infused. The town is small, laid along a fast green river with old bridges, and its main street is a run of tea houses, grinders and shops selling by grade. Workshops let you turn a stone mill yourself, which takes about an hour to produce enough powder for two bowls and explains the price immediately.

What you actually see

• Shaded tea fields - the covered rows on the hills around the town, most visible in the spring picking season.
• Stone grinding - hand mills turning tencha into powder, slowly enough to justify what matcha costs.
• Usucha and koicha - thin and thick preparations, the second closer to warm paint than to a drink.
• The riverside - the fast Uji river, its old bridge and the Phoenix Hall temple a few minutes away.

When to go

The first picking comes in late April and May, when the shading covers are on and the fields look their strangest. Autumn is quiet and pleasant along the river. Tea houses open through the day and close in the early evening. Grinding workshops and formal tastings usually need booking, especially at weekends.

Honest expectations

Almost every matcha dessert on the street is sweetened and diluted, and visitors who only try parfaits and soft serve never taste the tea at all. Properly made thin tea is bitter and comes in a small bowl. The famous tea houses queue out of the door at weekends. High grade leaf is genuinely expensive, and the town itself is walked through in a couple of hours.

Nearby

The Phoenix Hall and its pond sit five minutes from the tea street; central Kyoto is half an hour back up the line.