
From Sencha and Gyokuro to Hojicha and Genmaicha, discover the essential Japanese teas, their flavours, and how to brew each one perfectly.
We all have our go-to Chinese teas—green, yellow, black—on regular rotation across Asia. But ask someone about Japanese tea, and the answer usually begins and ends with Matcha. Fair, but also wildly incomplete.
Japan’s tea scene runs deep. Around 95–99% of its production is green tea, with the rest dipping into brown, yellow, and black variations. Like Chinese teas, they all come from the same Camellia sinensis plant—but Japan’s climate, soil, and processing, especially steaming instead of pan-firing, push the flavour in a completely different direction: brighter greens, deeper umami, and cleaner finishes.
There are 15 core Japanese tea families, and chances are you’ve already tried at least a few without realising it. Beyond that, a handful of rarer styles quietly reward anyone curious enough to seek them out, especially if Japan is on your travel list. Here’s a guide to the ones that matter, and how to drink them properly.
The backbone of Japanese tea, Sencha is what most people in Japan actually drink day to day. Made from whole leaves that are steamed, rolled, and then steeped, it delivers a bright, vivid green cup with a fresh, grassy edge—think soft seaweed notes, a touch of umami, and just enough astringency to keep things interesting. It’s also the heavyweight of the category, making up around 75% of Japan’s tea production. For a good cup, use 5g of leaves with 200ml water at 70–80°C and steep for one to two minutes. Any hotter, and it starts to lose its charm.

Often called ‘jewel dew’, Gyokuro is where Japanese green tea leans all the way into depth and intensity. Grown under shade, the leaves develop a deep green hue and a flavour that’s sweet, savoury, and almost broth-like. Expect aromas of seaweed and butter, with layered notes of dashi, kelp, and soft greens that linger long after each sip. Brew it gently: 5g of leaves with 200ml water at 50–60°C for two to three minutes. Any hotter and you’ll flatten the very thing that makes it special.
Sitting comfortably between everyday ease and full-on intensity, Kabusecha bridges the gap between Sencha and Gyokuro. The leaves are shaded for about one to two weeks before harvest, just enough to deepen the flavour without tipping into excess. The result is a balanced cup with gentle umami, fresh green notes, and a soft, almost buttery finish that rounds everything out nicely. Brew with 200ml water at 60–70°C for one to two minutes to keep that balance intact.
If tea could double as a snack, Genmaicha would be it. A blend of green tea—usually Sencha or Bancha—with roasted, popped brown rice, it leans warm, nutty, and gently savoury, with that unmistakable toasted rice aroma that borders on popcorn. The rice also softens the bitterness and keeps the caffeine on the lower side, making it an easy, anytime drink. Brew 5g with 200ml water at 80–90°C for about a minute and enjoy it before bedtime.

Less polished, more relaxed, Bancha is what happens when the later harvest gets its moment. Made from older, larger leaves picked in summer or autumn from the same plants as Sencha, it leans earthy and woody with a mild, slightly dry finish—think hay, light grains, and a touch of herbal warmth. It’s lower in caffeine, easy on the palate, and very much an everyday kind of tea. Brew 5g with 200ml water at 80–90°C for one to two minutes.
Roasted rather than steamed, Hojicha takes green tea in a completely different direction. The high-heat roast turns the leaves a warm reddish-brown and brings out toasty, slightly smoky flavours: roasted nuts, caramel, a touch of cocoa, even a hint of wood. It’s smooth, low in bitterness, and naturally lower in caffeine, which makes it an easy pick for evenings. Brew 5g with 200ml water at 90–100°C for 30 seconds to a minute. It’s one of the few teas that actually likes hotter water.
Not all great tea comes from the leaf. Kukicha—often called twig or stalk tea—is made from the stems and stalks left over from producing teas like Sencha and Gyokuro. What could have been discarded ends up as something surprisingly elegant: light, slightly sweet, with a gentle creaminess and a soft nutty aroma that leans into almond and warm wood. It’s also naturally lower in caffeine and rich in minerals, making it an easy, everyday pour. Brew 5g with 200ml water at 80–90°C for a minute or two.

Tamaryokucha is the odd one out in the Japanese green tea lineup in the best way. Instead of the usual straight, needle-like leaves, it shows up all curled and comma-shaped. Sometimes, you’ll also hear locals call it ‘Guricha’, or ‘curly tea’. Most of it comes from Kyushu, and it brews into something noticeably softer than the usual bite of green tea. Think mellow, lightly tangy, with a green-fruit profile that can drift between citrus peel, fresh herbs, and a faint nutty sweetness. Brew 5g with 200ml water at 70–80°C for a minute or two.
Shincha, literally translates to ‘new tea’, is Japan’s first tea harvest of the year, picked in a short window between April and May. It’s essentially the first flush of Sencha, but fresher, brighter, and a little more unfiltered in character, like the plant still stretching after winter. What makes it stand out is its chemistry at peak freshness: higher levels of amino acids (especially theanine), which translate into a soft, sweet umami, and that unmistakably green, almost snap-of-leaf aroma. Brew 5g with 200ml water at 70–80°C for 40–60 seconds.
Konacha is what’s left behind after Gyokuro or Sencha is sorted and graded, usually in the form of tiny leaf bits, dust, and tea buds that don’t make the cut for loose-leaf packaging. The name means ‘powder tea’, though that’s a bit misleading. It’s not finely ground like matcha; it’s more like the fast lane of green tea—small particles that infuse almost instantly into a deep green cup. It’s the tea you’ll often get in sushi restaurants: quick to serve, no fuss, but still distinctly green and surprisingly full-bodied. Brew 5g with 200ml water at 70–80°C for 30 seconds.

Mecha is green tea in its most compact form, made not from full leaves, but from the young buds and tender tips picked early in the season. Because of that, it’s sometimes called ‘bud tea’, though it drinks far bigger than the name suggests. The leaves are tightly curled into small pellets rather than flat strips, which gives it a distinctive look before it even meets water. Once brewed, it leans into a concentrated umami with a vivid green colour and a dense, almost savoury depth. Brew 5g with 200ml water at 70–80°C for 30 to 40 seconds.
Aracha is green tea in an unpolished state, and translates to ‘raw tea’. It’s what you get straight after the leaves are harvested, steamed, rolled, and dried, before any sorting or refinement happens. So instead of neat, uniform leaves, you get the whole mix: leaves, stems, veins, fragments—all still together in one brew. That mix is exactly what gives it its character: a fuller body, a deeper natural sweetness, and a slightly wild, untamed edge compared to cleaner teas like Sencha. Nothing has been edited out yet, and you can taste that honesty in the cup. Brew 5g with precisely 365ml water at 90°C for 40 seconds.
Tencha is the quiet stage before matcha shows up. These are shade-grown tea leaves, carefully cultivated for weeks without direct sunlight, then steamed and dried. But unlike Sencha or most other green teas, they’re not rolled. They’re left flat and then meticulously de-veined and de-stemmed. So what remains is pure leaf material, stripped down to what matters. That’s why you rarely see Tencha brewed on its own. It’s not really designed for that. Its real purpose is transformation: it gets stone-ground into Matcha. In its own form, though, it carries a soft umami, a gentle green aroma, and that unmistakable fresh, grassy profile—like the idea of matcha before it becomes matcha. If you can get your hands on Tencha, brew 5g with 200ml water at 70–80°C for 30 seconds, or powder it to Matcha form if you wish to.

Matcha is green tea in its most direct form. You’re not steeping leaves but drinking the whole thing instead. It’s made by stone-grinding Tencha into an ultra-fine powder. Before that, the leaves spend about three to four weeks in the shade, which pushes up chlorophyll and amino acids. After steaming and drying, the stems and veins are removed, leaving only the usable leaf material to be milled. The result is a vivid green powder that’s whisked, not brewed. The flavour sits in that interesting space between rich umami and a gentle bitterness, with a green aroma that can drift toward sweet grass, spinach, even a faint cocoa edge depending on the grade. Prepare 2g of powder with 70ml of water at 75–80°C, and whisk with a chasen (bamboo whisk) until it foams.
Japan is best known for green tea, but there’s a quieter outlier in the mix: Wakoucha, or Japanese black tea. It’s fully oxidised, yet it doesn’t behave like the heavier black teas you might associate with China, India, or Sri Lanka. Instead, it stays light on its feet—low in tannins, naturally sweet, and often drifting into gentle notes of honey, apple, or caramel with a soft floral edge. Because of its delicacy, it’s usually enjoyed straight. No milk, no sugar. Just a clean cup that leans more refined than forceful. Brew 3g with precisely 236ml water at 85–90°C for two to three minutes.
Opening photo: Roméo A. | Unsplash.






