Why this recipe changed everything I thought I knew about frozen desserts
I’ll be honest—I used to think matcha ice cream was overrated. Too often, what I encountered was either bitter as medicine or so sweet it tasted like green food coloring. Then I spent three months in Kyoto, working alongside Tanaka-san at his family’s 80-year-old ice cream shop. What he taught me about matcha completely revolutionized my approach.
This isn’t just another ice cream recipe. It’s the culmination of years of mistakes, revelations, and that one perfect scoop that made me understand what all the fuss was about.
Let’s Talk About Matcha (Because It Matters More Than You Think)
Here’s what nobody tells you: most matcha sold in grocery stores is garbage. I learned this the hard way after burning through dozens of batches with that yellowish powder that tastes like grass clippings.
Real matcha—the stuff worth your time and money—should be the color of jade and smell like fresh cut grass after rain. It’s expensive, yes. A small tin of ceremonial-grade matcha can cost $40 or more. But here’s the thing: you’re only using 30 grams for this entire recipe. That tin will make you eight batches of the best ice cream you’ve ever tasted.
I keep mine in the fridge, wrapped tight in foil, then sealed in an airtight container. Light is matcha’s enemy. Heat is worse. Treat it like the precious ingredient it is.
Why This Recipe Works (When Others Don’t)
Most recipes dump matcha powder directly into hot cream and call it a day. Wrong move. The heat kills those delicate flavor compounds that make matcha special. Instead, we’re going to make a matcha paste first—a technique I picked up from traditional tea preparation.
The other secret? Proper custard technique. Yeah, it takes longer than Philadelphia-style ice cream, but the richness from egg yolks carries the matcha flavor in a way that straight cream and milk never could.
What You’ll Need
The Matcha Foundation:
- 30g ceremonial-grade matcha powder (don’t skimp here)
- 60ml warm water (around 160°F—hot but not boiling)
- 2 tablespoons sugar
The Ice Cream Base:
- 2 cups heavy cream
- 1 cup whole milk
- 3/4 cup sugar (divided)
- 6 egg yolks
- 1/4 teaspoon sea salt
- 1 teaspoon vanilla extract
Equipment That Actually Matters:
- Digital thermometer (non-negotiable)
- Fine strainer
- Ice cream maker
- Patience (seriously)
The Method That Changed My Life
Making the Matcha Paste
Sift your matcha through the finest strainer you have. Even expensive matcha can have clumps, and nobody wants gritty ice cream.
Mix 2 tablespoons of sugar into the sifted matcha—this helps prevent clumping. Now comes the crucial part: add that warm water gradually while whisking in a W-pattern. This isn’t me being precious; it’s how tea masters have done it for centuries, and they know what they’re doing.
You want a smooth paste with no lumps. If you see any, push through that strainer again. This paste is your flavor foundation—get it right, and everything else follows.
Building the Custard
In a heavy pot (thin-bottomed pans are your enemy here), warm the cream, milk, and half the sugar until tiny bubbles form around the edges. Don’t let it boil. Ever.
While that’s heating, whisk your egg yolks with the remaining sugar and salt until they’re pale and thick. When you lift the whisk, the mixture should fall in ribbons that hold their shape for a second before melting back in.
The Make-or-Break Moment
This is where most people mess up: tempering the eggs. Rush this, and you’ll have sweet scrambled eggs. Take your time.
Ladle about a third of the hot cream into the yolk mixture, whisking constantly. Add another third, still whisking. Now pour this tempered mixture back into the pot with the remaining cream.
Cook over low heat, stirring constantly with a wooden spoon, until it reaches 180°F. The custard should coat the back of your spoon, and when you draw a line through it with your finger, that line should hold.
Bringing It All Together
Strain the hot custard immediately—this catches any bits that might have overcooked. Whisk in the vanilla and your beautiful matcha paste until the color is uniform throughout. No streaks, no lumps.
Chill this in an ice bath, stirring occasionally, then refrigerate overnight. Yes, overnight. This isn’t just about temperature; the flavors need time to marry.
The Final Act
Churn according to your ice cream maker’s instructions. Mine takes about 22 minutes to reach that perfect soft-serve consistency. The color should be a subtle green—not neon, not gray, but that perfect in-between that whispers “matcha” before you even taste it.
Transfer to a container, press plastic wrap directly on the surface, and freeze for at least 4 hours.
What You’ll Taste
That first spoonful? It’s a revelation. The initial sweetness gives way to matcha’s earthy complexity—slightly bitter, vegetal in the best way, with a finish that lingers pleasantly. The texture is silk-smooth, rich enough to coat your mouth without being heavy.
This isn’t dessert that screams for attention. It’s subtle, sophisticated, the kind of thing that makes you close your eyes and just savor.
A Few Things I’ve Learned
Serve it in small portions—this is rich, complex stuff that’s best appreciated slowly. I like to let it sit out for about 5 minutes before scooping; it makes all the difference in texture.
If you want to get fancy, a light dusting of matcha powder on top is beautiful, but honestly? It’s perfect on its own.
Store it well-wrapped in your freezer. It’ll keep for a month, though in my house, it’s never lasted longer than a week.
Why This Matters
In a world of artificial flavors and shortcuts, this recipe is a reminder of what real flavor can be. It’s not the easiest ice cream you’ll ever make, but it might just be the best. Every step has a purpose, every ingredient earns its place.
This is the ice cream that converted my matcha-skeptical friends. It’s the recipe I’m most proud of, the one that taught me that sometimes the old ways really are the best ways.
Make it once, and you’ll understand why matcha ice cream is worth getting right.
Makes about 1 quart | Active time: 1 hour | Total time: 8 hours (including freezing)
