The Green Wave: How Matcha Conquered Phnom Penh

From Kyoto to Boeung Keng Kang, ceremonial Japanese green tea powder has taken over Phnom Penh's trendiest cafés in just a few seasons.

Matcha latte, Hero House (BKK1)

Five years ago, ordering a matcha latte in Phnom Penh meant a long search. Today, all it takes is a walk down BKK1, or through the streets around the Russian Market. Every other shopfront seems to advertise its “homemade matcha,” matcha soft serve, or “ceremonial grade” powder fresh off the plane from Uji. The movement reaches far beyond Cambodia, but it has found particularly fertile ground here.

Japan Running Out of Leaves

Driven by social media and a generation raised on wellness culture, the global matcha market has seen growth over the past two years that even Japanese producers are struggling to keep up with. Demand is coming from the Middle East, the United States, Europe — and shows no sign of slowing. A powder once reserved for the tea ceremony, stone-ground in the hills of Kyoto, now turns up in plastic cups, filmed from every angle, tagged by the million on TikTok.

That success has a downside. Japan is short-staffed: the number of tea farmers has been declining for years, and spring harvests are increasingly hit by climate swings. Orders, meanwhile, keep pouring in. The result: prices are climbing, some suppliers are rationing, and the most serious houses would rather wait than sell a cut matcha. The scarcer the powder gets, the more desirable it becomes — Phnom Penh is no exception to that logic.

From Trendy Café to Sidewalk Stall

The phenomenon has spread well beyond specialty addresses. At Lucky Lucky, you'll now find matcha butter sitting on the shelf next to packets of instant powder, right beside the instant coffee. And in some boreys on the edge of the city, it's not unusual to come across someone who has simply set up a folding table on the sidewalk in front of their home, making their own matcha drinks for the neighborhood. From specialty café to neighborhood sidewalk — the green drink has settled in at every level.

Matcha powder and matcha butter

Six Addresses, Six Different Takes

It's in the dedicated cafés that the scene really comes together. In BKK1, Matcha Times bets on premium powder imported straight from Japan, with a tight menu built around the latte and a few seasonal creations. Also in BKK1, Hero House has made matcha and Japanese desserts — mochi, soft cakes — its specialty, in a decor built for Instagram. In Tonle Bassac, near the Vietnamese embassy, Matcha Venture claims direct sourcing from farms in the Uji region: latte, creamy hojicha, a soft-serve ice cream version, and loose powder for those who want to make it at home. At Sip House, on Norodom Boulevard, drinks are made in front of the customer — the oat milk latte has its regulars, and a second location has since opened in Toul Tompoung. Near the National Museum, on Street 178, The MatchArt Cafe has made matcha its house specialty since opening in 2015, with an extensive menu and an atmosphere that invites you to linger, book in hand.

Matcha Times storefront (BKK1)

On TikTok, local creators publish entire series devoted to hunting down the city's best matcha. Hero House comes up regularly; Pods Coffee, a more general café in Toul Kork that serves tiramisu alongside matcha, gets a notable appearance alongside lesser-known spots that suddenly find themselves in the spotlight. Textures, sugar levels, bitterness — all get compared. Every café is chasing its own signature, in a rivalry that sometimes looks more like friendly competition than a simple consumer trend.

A Ritual, Not Just a Trend

There's a deeper question here: why matcha, and why now. Its caffeine hits softer and slower than a regular coffee, antioxidants are front and center on nearly every package, and the ritual itself — slow, almost meditative — cuts against the iced-coffee-to-go culture that still dominates the city. For my part, I've come to appreciate this drink, gentler than coffee. Big brands have followed suit: ice cream, pastries, cereal, bottled drinks — everyone now has their own version made with ground green tea. Phnom Penh's cafés, for their part, play a more artisanal card, caught between demanding imports and local creativity.

The open question is whether it lasts. Trends driven by social media tend to burn out fast. But the most serious players on the local scene seem to be betting on something else: provenance and quality over the bright green color that simply photographs well.

Sometimes an example says more than a statistic. Tonio, my 10-year-old son, became a matcha convert within a matter of weeks — to the point of always packing his own sachets whenever he goes on holiday in the provinces, so he's never caught without. That kind of habit probably says more about how deeply the trend has taken root than any growth figure out of the Japanese market.