The precision of Japanese tea

Shade grown karigane + a Tokyo travel diary.

Umami on a budget

The tea: Nakamura-en kabuse karigane, sold by Yunomi.life some years ago, now sold out. Try these similar batches from other producers.

Kukicha is a tea made from stems that are sorted out of Japanese green tea production. The precious whole leaves get labeled as higher grades, and the leftover stems are repurposed as a budget friendly lower grade drink. Sure, it may lack the full flavor spectrum of whole leaf teas, but drinking stems is its own reward. Kukicha tastes sweet and mellow with twiggy notes of hay and grass. It’s low in caffeine, and a great daily drinker when you want something good and uncomplicated.

Then there’s karigane, the term for kukicha made specifically from gyokuro rather than more typical green teas. Gyokuro is similar to matcha, but processed as whole leaves rather than a ground powder. Gyokuro plants are pumped with nitrogen-rich fertilizer and shaded in the weeks leading up to harvest. This abundance of nutrients and shortage of sunlight pushes the tea plants into overdrive, pumping out extra chlorophyl and amino acids to make the most of their limited photosynthetic opportunities. The prep school treatment results in a ridiculously rich and umami tea with a resounding marine sweetness. The experience of drinking it is profound, and accordingly expensive. Karigane is a way to enjoy that umami boost at a much more accessible price tag.

The source: I was drawn to Yunomi.life for its nice selection of not too expensive Japanese teaware. My handleless teapot, called a shiboridashi, is from them, though like the specific karigane I’m drinking, the pot is also sold out. I haven’t had many teas from Yunomi, but what I have tasted has encouraged me to try more. They currently have two karigane batches from the Chakouan and Uejima gardens. Shipping from Japan is fast and reliable.

To brew: Japanese tea pros may be appalled to hear that I brew karigane with boiling water. For a sweeter and less astringent brew, opt for water between 140° and 175° Fahrenheit (60° to 80° Celsius). However I like the bolder, stronger flavor you get from hotter water, and I think the that the touch of bitterness this method yields is a nice counterpoint to the brew’s viscous umami. My trick is a slow, controlled stream down the side of the pot to keep from agitating the leaves and getting them ornery. I use 4 grams of tea in a 150 milliliter shiboridashi (1g/37ml), steeped for 90 seconds, from the moment the water hits the leaves to the moment I finish decanting the brew. When it comes to Japanese tea, those spare seconds make a difference.

The brew above was a sunny and surprisingly graceful cup that leaves a sweet seaweed impression on the back of the throat. Expect an open, inviting aroma of freshly cut clover and light florals. You may notice a mouthwatering effect after you swallow, and a cool ocean breeze as you exhale outwards.

Steep karigane two or three times. The subsequent brews slowly return you to reality—refreshing with a hearty sweetness. That’s a lot of luxury for a simple pile of stems!

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A tale of two Tokyo tea experiences

Tokyo isn’t a big tea city. If you want to dive deep into Japanese tea culture, visit Kyoto instead. But there are many reasons to be in Tokyo, and there is certainly good tea to be found. I want to bring you back to April 2016—remember how good we had it?—when my friend Jamie and I visited Japan in search of good meals and a shvitz in a hot spring town. I had time to visit two shops in the city. Eight years later, I’m still thinking about them.