Soak the whisk
Rest the Whisk, the chasen in Japanese, in warm water for a minute before you begin. Soaking softens the fine bamboo prongs so they flex rather than snap, keeps the Whisk in good condition for longer, and helps it draw a better foam.
Made well, it is one of the simplest things you can prepare. Powder, water, a whisk, and a few unhurried minutes. Most of the confusion around how to make matcha comes down to a few small details that are easy to get right: the amount, the water, the whisk. Get those in order and the rest follows.
This is the Uchi method. Kaze no Shiro, first-flush matcha composed by Horii Shichimeien in Uji and stone-milled at forty grams an hour, and a way of making it built for the first bowl as much as the hundredth.
Rest the Whisk, the chasen in Japanese, in warm water for a minute before you begin. Soaking softens the fine bamboo prongs so they flex rather than snap, keeps the Whisk in good condition for longer, and helps it draw a better foam.
Measure two to three Spoons into the Sieve, then sieve it into the Bowl. Each levelled Uchi Spoon holds about one gram, so use two for a lighter bowl and three for something fuller. Sieving is the step newcomers skip and later regret. It breaks the fine clumps that otherwise float and won’t dissolve.
Keep the Pod sealed in the Base. Matcha quality fades quickly once it meets air, light and heat.
Matcha wants water at 70 to 80°C, never boiling. There is chemistry behind the number. Matcha is rich in L-theanine, the amino acid behind its calm, focused energy, and boiling water destroys it, leaving only the catechins that taste bitter. That bitterness sharpens above 80°C. The bright green colour comes from chlorophyll, which begins to break down in hotter water. Keep within range and you hold on to the flavour, the colour and the calm.
You do not need a thermometer. Water off the boil sits at 100°C and loses roughly 10°C each time you pour it between two cups, and around 10°C a minute as it stands. Two unhurried pours, or three minutes’ wait, brings it into range.
Pour about 30ml over the matcha, roughly a shot glass, and whisk to a smooth, dark paste. Loosen it with a little more water, to the consistency of an espresso shot. Working to a paste first draws a finer foam and dissolves every last grain of powder.
Keep the Bowl still with one hand and whisk with the other, from the wrist, in a light W or M shape. This is whisking, not stirring. The shape is what draws in the air. Start near the bottom and work slowly up towards the surface, easing off as you rise, so the larger bubbles break and a fine microfoam forms. Lift the Whisk up through the middle to settle it.
Fine foam takes practice. It comes more easily each time.
Add 120ml of milk, hot or cold. Treat it as you would an iced latte or a cappuccino. Whisk the matcha with water first, always, because poured straight into cold milk it clumps. For a little sweetness, add honey, maple syrup or two grams of sugar, dissolved into the matcha first if the milk is cold.
The measures are deliberate. 30ml of water to 120ml of milk, a small cup by design. More milk only buries the flavour the leaf is grown for.
In Japan, matcha is traditionally drunk without milk at all, whisked with hot water alone and served in a small bowl. Made thin this way, it is called usucha. Milk came later. For a plain bowl, top the paste with hot water instead.
None of this is difficult. Measuring, sieving, whisking, then a few minutes of quiet before the day begins. That steadiness is what matcha offers, and the reason it is worth making by hand. Done the same way each morning, it stops being a task and becomes something you keep.