Matcha boom doubles in Australia as $8 green lattes become café staple

When McDonald's has matcha, you know it has crossed into permanence
Win reflects on how the drink has transcended trend status to become a mainstream cafe staple.
Mark

Why did matcha suddenly explode in Australia when it's been around for centuries in Japan?

Mimi

It didn't explode randomly. It arrived through social media—TikTok especially—and hit a specific audience at the right moment. Young Australians were already thinking about health, aesthetics, and alternatives to coffee. Matcha checked all three boxes at once.

Mark

But eight dollars for a latte is expensive. How did that price stick?

Mimi

Because the people buying it don't see it as a coffee substitute. They see it as a wellness product, something closer to a supplement. The premium pricing actually reinforces that perception. It signals value.

Mark

What about the people in Japan growing this stuff? Are they benefiting from the boom?

Mimi

Not really. The wholesale price jumped 69 percent, but that's because demand outpaced supply. Growers in Kyoto are scrambling. The real money is being made by cafes in Sydney and Melbourne, not by the farmers.

Mark

Is this trend actually going to last, or is it another fad?

Mimi

The fact that McDonald's now serves matcha suggests it's past the fad stage. It's become infrastructure. But whether it stays fashionable among the young people driving it right now—that's a different question.

Mark

What's the appeal beyond the taste?

Mimi

Honestly, a lot of it is the look. The color is almost artificial in how perfect it is. People want to photograph it, share it. That's not shallow—that's just how culture moves now. The aesthetic is part of the product.

Mark

Do people actually feel the health benefits, or is it placebo?

Mimi

Some of it is real—matcha does contain antioxidants. But a lot of it is probably psychological. People feel like they're making a better choice, so they feel better. That's not nothing.

  • Matcha orders in Australia surged 133% in a single year, with under-35s spending $8 a cup without hesitation — a premium they would rarely accept for conventional coffee.
  • The drink's rise is inseparable from TikTok's visual culture, where over five million videos have turned a vivid green latte into a lifestyle symbol, pulling digital enthusiasm directly into cafe queues.
  • Consumers are not just chasing aesthetics — many are fleeing coffee's anxiety and crashes, drawn to matcha's slightly lower caffeine load and its reputation for antioxidants and steadier energy.
  • The boom is buckling its own supply chain: wholesale matcha prices in Japan leapt 69% in one year, raising urgent questions about whether global demand can be sustained without distorting the drink's origins.
  • From McDonald's menus to home whisking tutorials, matcha is crossing the threshold from trend into permanence — but the distance it has traveled from Japanese tea ceremony to farmers market aesthetic is not lost on those drinking it.

Something quiet and green has been reshaping the morning rituals of a generation. Across Australian cities, matcha — a powdered Japanese tea once confined to ceremony and specialty shops — has become as unremarkable on cafe menus as the flat white, carried there by young consumers seeking a gentler relationship with stimulants, aesthetics, and their own wellbeing. The speed of this transformation, from curiosity to cultural fixture in just a few years, speaks to how swiftly a drink can become a mirror of the values a generation is reaching toward — even as the fields in Kyoto that supply it strain under the weight of the world's new appetite.

Donna Win first encountered matcha in Japan in 2019 and found what coffee had never offered her — a drink that didn't make her hands shake. Back in Sydney, she was struck by how rarely it appeared on cafe menus. Within a few years, that absence would be unimaginable.

Today, matcha sits alongside flat whites and cappuccinos as a staple of Australian cafe culture. Win and her sister launched the Matcha Club in 2024, a social gathering for enthusiasts exploring the city's offerings together — a venture that would have seemed eccentric just years earlier. The numbers confirm the shift: a 133 percent year-on-year increase in orders, with under-35s driving nearly all of the growth, paying around eight dollars a cup without resistance.

The drink has shed its ceremonial origins with remarkable speed. On TikTok, five million videos carry the #matcha hashtag, and that digital energy has translated directly into cafes across the country. But the boom carries consequences. Japanese matcha production, concentrated in Kyoto, is straining under global demand — wholesale prices surged 69 percent in a single year, from roughly 82 Australian dollars per kilogram to approximately 122.

For consumers like Sarah Xu, the appeal is genuinely functional: a gentler morning, fewer crashes, a wellness ritual she customises with supplements. Matcha contains around 70 milligrams of caffeine compared to 80–100 in coffee — a meaningful difference for those sensitive to stimulants. For 24-year-old Jade Gillis, who orders it three or four times a week, the visual dimension is part of the draw, acknowledged without apology. The color is striking, the drink photographs beautifully, and yes — it has become entangled with a particular lifestyle aesthetic. Yet all three women insist the trend has moved beyond fashion. When McDonald's adds matcha to its menu, Win notes, you know it has crossed into permanence.

For those preparing it at home, tea instructor Taka Kaneko recommends 1.5 to 2 grams of powder whisked with water at 70–80 degrees Celsius using a bamboo chansen, moving in an M-shaped motion to build the characteristic foam. The most common mistake is misjudging the ratio. And rather than trusting marketing labels, Kaneko advises looking for matcha marked as first harvested — a quiet indicator that the leaves, and the care behind them, remain worth seeking out.

Donna Win tasted matcha for the first time in Japan in 2019 and found something coffee could never give her—a drink that didn't make her hands shake. The 27-year-old small business owner had always preferred green tea to the bitter intensity of coffee, and when she encountered the vivid green latte, it felt like discovery. Back in Sydney months later, she was struck by how rare the drink was in local cafes. Within a few years, that scarcity would vanish entirely.

Today, matcha has become as ordinary on Australian cafe menus as flat whites and cappuccinos. The transformation has been swift and total. Win and her sister launched the Matcha Club in 2024, a social gathering for enthusiasts who wanted to explore the city's growing matcha offerings together—a venture that would have seemed unnecessary just a handful of years earlier. The standard price for an iced matcha latte now hovers around eight dollars, roughly two dollars more than a conventional milk coffee, yet young Australians have shown no resistance to the premium. An annual report from the ordering platform Hey You and Westpac DataX documented a 133 percent year-on-year increase in matcha orders, with customers under 35 driving nearly all of that growth.

The Japanese beverage, traditionally prepared unsweetened and without milk through an elaborate tea ceremony, has shed its ceremonial origins and entered the mainstream with remarkable speed. On TikTok alone, over five million videos carry the #matcha hashtag, translating digital enthusiasm into brick-and-mortar reality. International chains and independent cafes alike now stock the powder, and the glowing green drink has become a fixture of urban cafe culture across the country.

But the boom has consequences that ripple back to its source. Japanese matcha production, concentrated in Kyoto, is straining under global demand. The wholesale price of tencha—the loose leaves ground into matcha powder—has surged 69 percent in a single year. In 2025, a kilogram cost around 8,235 yen, or roughly 82 Australian dollars. By 2026, that same kilogram averaged 13,972 yen, or approximately 122 dollars. The economics of the trend are reshaping the supply chain in real time.

Sarah Xu, a thirtysomething operations manager, switched from her daily oat latte to matcha last year, drawn by what she perceived as a gentler start to her mornings. She believes the drink offers genuine health advantages over coffee—matcha is indeed rich in antioxidants and anti-inflammatory compounds, though it contains a substance that can interfere with medication absorption. She customizes her matcha with supplements like cacao for mental clarity or keratin for muscle recovery, treating it as part of a broader wellness routine. Win has observed the same pattern among members of her social club: many are fleeing the afternoon energy crash that follows coffee. A typical serving of matcha contains roughly 70 milligrams of caffeine compared to 80 to 100 milligrams in coffee, a meaningful difference for those sensitive to the stimulant.

Jade Gillis, a 24-year-old hospitality worker, doesn't identify as either a coffee or tea drinker, yet matcha has become her drink of choice—she orders it three or four times weekly and credits it with brightening her day. Both Gillis and Win acknowledge the visual dimension of matcha's appeal without apology. The color is striking, almost unnatural in its vibrancy, and the drink photographs exceptionally well. Gillis notes with wry self-awareness that matcha has become entangled with a particular lifestyle aesthetic, one that feels distant from its ceremonial roots—the image of young women doing pilates and carrying farmers market bags filled with vegetables. Yet all three women insist the trend has moved beyond fleeting fashion. When McDonald's adds matcha to its menu, Win observes, you know it has crossed into permanence.

For those wanting to prepare matcha at home, the process is straightforward but benefits from proper technique. Taka Kaneko, founder of Edomatcha and a certified Japanese tea instructor, notes that beginners can simply use a spoon to mix the powder with water, though achieving the traditional smooth, velvety texture requires a chansen—a bamboo whisk that costs between 30 and 80 dollars. Kaneko combines 1.5 to 2 grams of matcha powder with 60 to 80 milliliters of water heated to 70 to 80 degrees Celsius, then whisks in an M-shaped motion, starting slowly before building to vigorous speed to create the characteristic foam. The most common mistake among newcomers is misjudging the powder-to-water ratio; too little creates a watery drink, while too much produces something thick and astringent. The quality of the matcha itself matters as well. Rather than relying on marketing labels like ceremonial or culinary grade, Kaneko recommends looking for matcha marked as first harvested, an indicator that the leaves were picked at their peak.

It was like, wow, this is the real deal
— Donna Win, describing her first matcha latte in Japan
The green is really beautiful. Unfortunately, it is a bit of an aesthetic
— Jade Gillis, acknowledging matcha's visual appeal and lifestyle associations
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