The Fluid Nature of Authenticity: A Collective Illusion

The Obsession with “Real”

We are obsessed with authenticity – in just about everything, the fear of getting a watered-down, misinterpreted experience is so strong, that people are constantly seeking validation or proof that what they are getting is the most “real”. But what does it truly mean for something to be authentic?

Many believe that authenticity is rooted in geographical origin, that something is most “real” when it comes from where it began. This notion often collapses under closer examination. Travelers who journey through the valleys and plateaus of France in search of the finest old-world wines discover that France is not only home to time-honored winemaking traditions but also the birthplace of the global natural wine movement, which started in the 1980s. Many of the techniques in natural winemaking challenge traditional practices - enology and viticulture are not frozen in time but are constantly evolving. Climate, consumer preferences, and the very people making the wine are changing. The definition of French wine, like the wine itself, is fluid.

When China reopened to the world after the Cultural Revolution, tea lovers ventured into Yunnan’s jungles, seeking the rarest and oldest Pu’er tea (a post-fermented tea prized for its age-ability). With aged teas nowhere to be found, they instead discovered the locals historically drank green tea, not the Pu’er tea they were producing. Moreover, unlike the elaborate Chinese tea ceremony (Gongfu Cha) popular along China’s coast, in Yunnan, tea was simply tossed into a kettle over burning charcoal. In this case, authenticity turns out to be a collective illusion or fantasy, crafted by the consumers rather than the producers themselves.

Many matcha drinkers who venture to Japan to study the Tea Ceremony might expect to find a singular, timeless tradition. Instead, they are often surprised to discover that there are over 300 different schools (Ryuha, 流派) of tea ceremony (Chanoyu, 茶の湯), each with unique practices and centuries of history. Which one is truly authentic? In this case, authenticity becomes a matter of choice—regardless of which Ryuha is followed, engaging with any of them offers a legitimate cultural experience.

A Living Culture vs. A Fossilized Moment

Living cultures are often the most innovative and adaptive at their origin. However, attempts to defend “real culture” frequently result in freezing it in a fixed moment, disconnected from its ongoing evolution. A living culture is a breathing, ever-changing organism, with every moment contributing to what will become the traditions of the future. Presence shapes the traditions of tomorrow.

This obsession with authenticity extends deeply into the world of tea, and matcha is no exception. Much like the examples of wine, Pu’er tea, and Chanoyu, the authenticity of matcha is often treated as a static ideal. But as we will explore, the history and practices around matcha are not as ancient or unchanging as many believe. In fact, much of what is considered “traditional” in matcha culture is a product of modern interpretations, innovations, and adaptations. Matcha, too, is fluid like its liquid form.

For those who believe that older is more traditional, and therefore more authentic/better, this really presents a paradox: where do we draw the line? If we follow this logic, the pursuit of “authenticity” becomes an endless race backwards in time.

Take, for example, the roots of matcha in Song Dynasty China, where it was known as “Mocha” (the pronunciation of the same characters for matcha 抹茶/末茶in Chinese). The preparation of Mocha was quite different from modern matcha, and the qualities considered most prized were not what contemporary consumers would recognize. According to The Grand Treatise on Tea (大观茶论) written by the famous Song Dynasty scholar emperor Hui Zong (徽宗), the finest Mocha was extremely pale in color and had thick foam that lasted for hours— qualities that differ significantly from the vibrant green, silky texture, and rich umami we associate with high quality matcha today. However, the possibility of tasting Mocha as it was in the Song Dynasty is forever lost, as the first emperor of the Ming Dynasty Hongwu (洪武) banned the production of powdered tea in 1391 C.E.

However, once matcha took root in Japan, it began to evolve. Unlike Mocha, which became a relic of the past, matcha continued to develop because it is a living culture. Today’s matcha is vastly different from what it was in the 18th century, and it is worlds apart from the matcha of Sen no Rikyū’s time. This adaptability is key to matcha’s survival and growth. The practices that define matcha today have been shaped by modern innovations in agriculture, production methods, and consumer preferences.

Innovations in Tea Garden

Image: Author was at the heart of Uji visiting a garden that produces some of most sought-after teas in Japan, these are low intervention, naturally fertilized, shade grown tea bushes. A hybrid technique of Honzu (straw method) and Kanreisha (cheese cloth method) is used.

One of the most significant developments in matcha cultivation is the introduction of shading technology. Now a cornerstone of matcha production, shading the tea plants before harvest enhances the tea’s chlorophyll content and umami flavor. The method of shading tea bushes before harvest was invented fairly recently compared to the long history of tea growing in Japan. 

The earliest written records of shade-grown tea date back to the early 1600s, 400 years after Eisai popularized tea consumption in Japan back in the 12th century. In 1604, Portuguese Jesuit João Rodrigues first described the use of shading in tea gardens in his "History of the Church of Japan". Around the same time, an imperial court advisor named Yamashina Tokitsune (山科言経) mentioned "shade-grown tea gardens" (覆下茶園) in his diary, Tokitsune Kyoki (言経卿記), further indicating that shading technology was recognized as a tea cultivation technique during this period. Although, a recent soil study conducted in Uji, the heart of Japanese tea cultivation, reveals that the practice of shading tea plants likely began even earlier. Researches conducted this study at the oldest tea plantation in Uji, Okunoyama Tea Plantation (奥の山茶園), which is the only surviving tea plantation of the original Uji Shichimeien, now singlehandedly managed by the famous company Horii Shichimeien (堀井七茗園). Radiocarbon dating of organic matter in the soils of the Okunoyama tea garden suggests that the use of rice straw in tea plantations started as early as the first half of the 15th century, predating these written records by about 150 years. Although, based on the author’s experience in Uji, rice straw is used for a wide range of purposes in the tea garden, from honzu shading to soil carpeting (preserve moisture) to fertilization, all of these practices would likely leave traces of organic matter in the soil that can be detected by such radiocarbon dating method.

Image: Kanreisha used in an tea garden in Izumo that practices natural farming.

In more recent years, Kanreisha (cheese cloth) has become widely used, even in some of the most reputable tea gardens in Japan. This modern shading method, though sometimes seen as inferior to traditional Honzu shading (which uses rice straw and reed screens), offers improved sunlight blockage while significantly reducing the labor required for garden management. Importantly, there is no noticeable impact on tea quality, making Kanreisha an efficient alternative for many contemporary tea farmers without compromising the excellence of their matcha.

Innovations in Tea Breeding

Cultivar breeding is another modern practice. 
Before the introduction of modern biology, people had no idea what a cultivar was. Everything was seed propagated, thus a Zairai (在来). The first formal tea cultivar registration was conducted in 1953 by the Ministry of Agriculture, Forestry and Fisheries of Japan, known as MAFF, before that, tea cultivars were very loosely defined by farmers across Japan.

Nowadays, specific cultivars like Yabukita, Samidori and Okumidori are developed and refined to produce the flavor profiles desired in today’s matcha, focusing on sweetness, umami, and visually pleasing verdant color, whereas historical matcha breeds would have been more bitter, astringent and darker in color.

Innovations in Fertilization

Fertilizers are essential to matcha cultivation, primarily to enhance the tea’s amino acid content, which is key to achieving matcha’s iconic umami flavor. Amino acids, particularly L-theanine, are responsible for matcha’s iconic rich, savory taste. Fertilizing the soil helps boost these amino acid levels in the tea leaves, allowing for a more intense and refined umami profile.

Both synthetic and natural fertilizers are used to achieve these results. Japanese tea farmers have long relied on different materials to enrich the soil, including rice straws, fish meal, canola and sesame oil residuals, and sometimes even oyster shells, each bringing its unique nutrients to the soil. These materials are often available at specialized fertilizer shops near the fields – an interesting type of specialty business that would only exists in tea growing regions in Japan.

These well-developed networks allow farmers to continue blending traditional methods with modern practices, ensuring that the tea plants receive balanced nutrition while maintaining harmony with the land. Over time, this approach has become an integral part of high-quality matcha cultivation, which is far removed from anything Sen no Rikyū would have recognized a few hundred years ago.

Innovations in Production Methods

The production of matcha too has changed remarkably, evolving from labor-intensive manual methods to a hybrid of traditional craftsmanship and highly industrialized processes. Historically, every step of matcha production was done by hand—from hand-picking the tea leaves to hand-processing them and grinding them into a fine powder using an Ishi usu, or traditional stone mill.

Today, while some small, family-run tea gardens still uphold traditional methods, producing matcha in limited quantities and grinding them with an ishi usu, the majority of Japan’s matcha production is specialized through industrialization, often drawing a clear line between farmers, processors, blenders, millers, retailers, and preparers.

In regions such as Izumo, Shiage (tea refining) factories are capable of processing of tons of Aracha (unrefined tea) each day. These factories employ complex machinery for sorting, refining, and packaging, ensuring a consistent quality and flavor in the large volumes of matcha they produce. Meanwhile, in tea-growing areas like Kagoshima, driverless, automated harvesters are used to manage vast tea fields with precision, allowing for efficient and consistent harvesting that was previously impossible.

Image: One of the largest tea factories in Izumo city, a newly emerged tea production region historically known for its excellent Sake (rice wine)

It’s difficult to criticize the industrialization of matcha when we consider the impact it has had on accessibility. In the past, matcha production relied on the labor of hundreds of workers who toiled to create a product reserved for the few at the top of the social hierarchy—an exclusive luxury crafted through blood and sweat by those who could never dream of affording it. 

Image: Post card of manual tea sorting from the Kyoto Tea Industry Photo Gallery (京都茶業寫真総覧)