The city feels gripped by a heatwave. Today marks Daeseo (Major Heat), the solar term named for exactly what it delivers. Even the AC seems to have given up, blowing out clammy air. When the humidity feels like it’s trying to move in under your skin, there’s one remedy: Gyokuro, Japan’s premier green tea.
Gyokuro translates to “jade dew.” Brewed, it glimmers with a pale green translucence. J-dramas often show ojisans brewing it with a flat teapot for maximum ceremony.
Japan’s MAFF defines it as tea crafted from leaves grown under oishita—shading nets pulled over the plants to block sunlight, intensifying their amino acids and chlorophyll. The leaves, denied their usual sunbathing, hustle for every scrap of light, cranking up their inner chemistry.
Daeseo falls when the sun is at its fiercest, but Gyokuro is made by dodging that blazing yang energy—embracing the cool, shaded yin instead.
Packed with green, Gyokuro delivers a hit of umami that’s almost startling. Honestly, the first time I tried it, it tasted like some greasy broth and I didn’t even want to swallow it.
But brewed cold overnight or flash-chilled over ice, it’s the very taste of summer, sweeping the heat away. If only it weren’t so pricey, I’d be tempted to splash it over rice for ochazuke every day.
Of all the purchases we make when we’ve lost our minds to this soul-draining weather, a cup of Gyokuro might just be the most virtuous indulgence.
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