Matcha Ice Cream (抹茶アイスクリーム)

Matcha has nowhere to hide in ice cream. Cream softens it, sugar rounds it, but stale tea still tastes stale, only colder. Buy the freshest matcha you can, bright green and fragrant when you open the tin. If it smells tired, save the cream and make something else. Nothing hidden.

People worry about custard, and custard does enjoy being treated as if it were a delicate guest. It isn't difficult. Warm the dairy, temper the yolks, and cook slowly until the mixture coats a spoon. The reason is simple: gentle heat thickens the yolks without scrambling them, giving the ice cream body instead of iciness.

The first secret is to make a smooth matcha paste before adding it to the base. Dry matcha clumps the moment it meets liquid, like it has made a small private decision to misbehave. Whisk it first with a little warm milk, then strain it into the custard. That one step keeps the texture clean and lets the tea bloom evenly.

This is not an old temple sweet, but it sits comfortably at the Japanese table because it honors one ingredient with restraint. Serve one or two small scoops in a chilled bowl, perhaps with nothing more than a few anko crumbs or a small shard of senbei. Leave it room. The color and bitterness should speak before decoration does.