Seemingly out of nowhere, a pale green drink has become a staple in my life. In recent months, the matcha latte has become my primary source of energy throughout the day and my favorite indulgence at night. I order it at coffee shops without missing a beat. I take “aesthetic” photos of the milk swirling with the vibrant green liquid. I can now explain the dubious difference between “ceremonial” and “culinary” grades of the finely ground, lightly caffeinated green tea powder.

Yet something about my newfound appreciation for the Japanese delicacy feels a bit uncanny. Matcha isn’t new (to say the least), and I admittedly didn’t love it at first try. What changed, and why now? It feels like it was muscled into my kitchen by some invisible force, and my taste buds have magically adjusted to its flavor.

Clearly, I’ve been influenced. It’s not just that my TikTok feed is filled with women showing their matcha orders or tutorials on how to achieve the perfect matcha foam. The powder and its flavor are nearly impossible to avoid in public life. Signs outside coffee shops and bars tout matcha concoctions and cocktails. At bakeries and sweet shops, it seems like every dessert can be made as a matcha hybrid. It’s the hottest ingredient across a wide spectrum of products, from skincare to candles to butter to ramen; the Crumbl cookies of beverages that have been popular for more than a thousand years.

The matcha review you need. 📍Mah-Ze-Dahr in West Village NYC #matcha #tastetest #matchalover

That I could succumb to such an enormous trend isn’t really the strange part. What’s strange is that it feels like we’ve already done this trend before — and quite recently, too. In the mid-2010s, matcha seemed to achieve its cultural peak in the US — although, it turned out to be more culty than mainstream. Almost a decade later, matcha is suddenly everyone’s favorite........

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