The Hottest Flight in Napa Right Now Isn’t Wine. It’s Matcha.

Most people come to Napa for wine. Fair. We’ve got more tasting rooms per square mile than grocery stores. But lately, another liquid has been bubbling up in this valley in a shade of green so bright it makes Sauvignon Blanc look washed out.

It hit me while I was waiting in line for brunch at Carabao a few weeks ago: everyone was buzzing about matcha. Which café makes the best latte? Who has the most photogenic pour? Matcha had officially made the jump from TikTok trend to running the group chat IRL.

Matcha has become a global lifestyle signal, racking up nearly 2 billion views under the #matcha hashtag, and fueling an entire wellness aesthetic. Its emerald green froth pops on Instagram, its ritualized whisking hypnotizes on Reels, and Gen Z has fully adopted it as a chic, sober-adjacent alternative to coffee.

In other words: what rosé was to millennial brunch, matcha is to Gen Z’s entire feed.

So I decided to suss out where to actually go for the best matcha. I hit Google, Yelp, and tapped local friends for intel. Three names kept bubbling up to the top. And because Napa loves a tasting (we’ll swirl, sniff, and spit our way through a dozen pours before lunch), of course I was going to turn this into a tour.

Call it a matcha flight — same ritual, different terroir.

In SoFi, surrounded by shops and tasting rooms, Ohm feels like a community living room — unpretentious, relaxed, more about hanging out than making a scene. The matcha tastes exactly like the space feels: lightly nutty, lightly earthy, balanced without being showy. Not sweet, not bitter, just steady. The scent leans toward hojicha, Japan’s roasted barley tea cousin, which is cozy and familiar.

Best For: casual matcha drinkers, busy mornings, and anyone easing into the green stuff without wanting too much bite.

Moulin feels like a French postcard dropped into Napa: café tables under trees, a slower pace, an everyday kind of elegance. Their matcha has the same character: smooth, silky, with a refined finish and a nutty depth. It was easily the highest quality I tasted. Even their matcha sparkler — fig or watermelon sparkling water topped with green froth — felt playful but elevated, an aperitif vibe done Napa-style.

Best For: purists who care about quality, anyone looking for a true ceremonial-grade experience, or anyone who lingers over details.

Down in the Napa Food City complex on South Jefferson — a hip, eclectic pocket with grit and charm — Naysayer’s matcha is just as bold as the setting. Sweetened with honey, nutty and textured, sharper on the finish. The strongest scent, the most assertive bite. It doesn’t hide; it insists. If Moulin is elegance, Naysayer is energy.

Best For: adventurous drinkers, bold-flavor seekers, or anyone who likes a matcha that makes a statement.

Each stop had its own matcha terroir: the setting, the energy, the people around you all shaping how the cup lands. Ohm’s matcha tasted like its living-room vibe, Moulin’s was refined and elegant, and Naysayer’s was bold and a little rebellious, right in step with its hip South Jefferson pocket.

In Napa, terroir usually means the soil. Here, it’s the café itself. And as matcha’s popularity skyrockets, knowing where to drink it — and what separates the good from the not-so-good — matters more than ever.

Matcha production has nearly tripled since 2010, exports surged 25% last year, and cafés in places like Uji are literally facing emptied shelves and purchase limits.

Whenever demand explodes like this, corners get cut — lower-grade powders are marketed as “ceremonial,” imports are diluted with fillers, and café lattes are made with whatever looks green enough for Instagram.

Which means: there’s more bad matcha out there than good. So how do you tell the difference between the real deal and the knockoffs? Good matcha comes down to a few non-negotiables:

Bad matcha = bitter, chalky, sometimes fishy. A lot of what’s on menus right now is culinary grade passed off as ceremonial, which is fine for baking, but not for sipping.

In a town that knows how to taste, we don’t need more matcha hype, we just need the good stuff. Where do you get your macha? Let us know in the comments!