Samidori and Ohbuku Okumidori from Kyoto

Within just a month, the tea fields can transform remarkably. When you spend time close to the land, those changes become impossible to miss. The tea trees gradually give way to bright green shoots, familiar paths begin to look different, and the rhythm of everyday life begins to revolve around the tea harvest. Experiencing these seasonal changes unfold reminds me that tea is never simply grown but it is lived alongside nature. And with just a blink, another harvest has already come and gone.

Back in February, I wrote about Yoshinori-san and Yukako-san, the farmers behind our Gokou from Kyoto. Four months later, I found myself walking through their tea fields once again. Today, as we welcome Samidori and Ohbuku Okumidori to the Rebel Bunny collection, I wanted to share something more than the introduction of these two new matchas. I wanted to share the moments that stayed with me. What I saw, what I felt, and the quiet conversations that continue to inspire Rebel Bunny to keep learning.

Those moments became another page in my notebook. One I wanted to keep, and one I hope you’ll enjoy reading too.

A Small Update from the 2026 First Harvest

When I last wrote about Yoshinori-san and Yukako-san, I shared their approach to organic farming, the philosophy that guides their work, and what their tea fields looked like in the middle of winter.

Back then, the outlook for the coming harvest was still a little uncertain. The winter had been very dry, and after the intense heat of the summer of 2025, farmers were concerned that the first harvest would be smaller than usual. It was one of those reminders that no matter how carefully tea is cultivated, nature always has the final say.

Thankfully, spring brought decent rainfall. Yoshinori-san told us that those rains made a meaningful difference, preventing the season from becoming as difficult as many had feared. Even so, the early harvest cultivars still produced a slightly smaller yield, as they had less time to benefit from the warmer spring temperatures before harvest began.

A year of careful work can ultimately depend on something as simple and as unpredictable as rain, frost, pests and diseases. Every harvest carries its own story, shaped by the season in ways that no one can fully control. The more conversations I have with tea producers, the more I realise how many things have to come together before a single harvest can happen. It makes me pause and appreciate that every cup we enjoy today exists because countless things, both within and beyond human hands, came together to make it possible.

One Harvest, and the Life That Follows

Yoshinori-san and Yukako-san harvest their tea only once a year, during the first flush of spring. Our Gokou, together with the newly released Samidori and Ohbuku Okumidori, are all crafted from these youngest and most tender leaves. After a full year of care from them and months of tea storing nutrients throughout winter, the tea trees pour all of their energy into these fresh shoots, producing the leaves most prized for their exceptional quality. For tea farmers, there is no season more important.

When David and I visited their tea garden in early June, the first harvest had finished just a week before. I knew we were standing in the very same fields, yet the landscape looked completely different. The bright spring growth had said goodbye, leaving behind rows of neatly trimmed tea trees. If you had never visited a tea garden after the harvest, you might even wonder whether the plants had been damaged.

But this transformation was entirely intentional and in fact a very important step.

In Japanese, this pruning is called kariotoshi, and is also called by other names, such as ban-gari, depending on the region or growing practice. There are several approaches depending on how deeply the trees are cut back. At their farm, they were carrying out Fukagari, a deeper style of pruning that helps maintain healthy, vigorous tea trees for the harvest for next year.

The branches and leaves removed during pruning are not collected or discarded. Instead, they are left in the unema, the spaces between the rows of tea trees. On a hot day, the freshly cut leaves begin to wither within hours, quietly returning to the soil they came from.

It is a gentle reminder of how naturally everything comes full circle. It is never only about the harvest itself, but a continuous cycle of patience, care, and respect for nature.

The Cultivar, Samidori

Now, I’d like to share a little about the cultivar, Samidori. There is a similarly named cultivar, Saemidori. Before we dig a little deeper, it’s worth mentioning that the two are completely different cultivars.

Samidori is one of the most celebrated tea cultivars from Uji, Kyoto, and has long been regarded as one of the finest cultivars for producing tencha, the raw material of matcha.

Originally selected in the early Showa era in Uji City, Samidori traces its roots back to Uji-s traditional “Zairai” (native seed-grown) tea plants. While its mother plant is known to be a Uji native cultivar, its pollen parent remains unknown. Following comparative field trials conducted by the Kyoto Prefectural Tea Research Institute beginning in 1942, Samidori was officially recognised for its outstanding quality and cultivation characteristics, and was designated as a Kyoto Prefectural Recommended Cultivar in 1954.

Rather than expressing bold or dramatic characteristics, Samidori is admired for its elegance and balance. Its refined sweetness and umami, beautifully reflect the style of matcha that Uji has long been known for.

Ohbuku Okumidori

Now, let me introduce another new addition to our collection, Ohbuku Okumidori.

Ohbuku is a small area in Ujitawara, Kyoto, and this matcha comes exclusively from there. The cultivar, Okumidori, was developed by crossing Yabukita with Shizuoka Zairai No. 16, and has long been appreciated for its balanced character and its deep, vibrant green colour.

Yet, like every tea cultivar, Okumidori never tells the whole story on its own. The place where it is grown, the climate of the season, the people who cultivate it, and the way it is processed all shape the character of the final cup. That is exactly what drew us to this very limited Okumidori from Ohbuku.

From the very first sip, we were captivated by its remarkable clarity. A clean, refreshing profile that feels bright yet composed. As you spend more time with it, gentle layers begin to unfold, revealing the subtle character we describe on the label.

Single Estate, Single Cultivar - Their vision and Ours

There is something deeply fascinating about experiencing tea in its purest expression. A single estate, a single cultivar, and a single harvesting season, each revealing a story that can never be repeated in exactly the same way.

That is the philosophy Yoshinori-san and Yukako-san have continued to pursue. Every matcha they produce is both single estate and single cultivar, allowing each tea to express not only the character of its cultivar, but also the subtle influence of the land, the weather of that particular year, and the producer's dedication and care.

Blends have their own beauty as well. Bringing together different teas with intention requires remarkable skill, experience, and craftsmanship. Both approaches have their own place, and both tell stories worth discovering and learning.

That perspective continues to shape Rebel Bunny. More than simply offering matcha, we hope to create opportunities to explore the remarkable diversity within Japanese tea through cultivars, regions, traditions, and the people who dedicate their lives to growing it.

We are honoured to carry forward the hopes that Yoshinori-san and Yukako-san have entrusted to us, and we hope you, too, can experience the beauty they have devoted their lives to creating.

If this journal, together with our new Samidori and Ohbuku Okumidori, becomes another small discovery on your own matcha journey, that is all we could hope for.

-- Manae from Rebel Bunny