Nokcha, explained: a guide to Korean green tea

Nokcha is simply the Korean word for green tea, and in practice it names the pan-fired, hand-rolled greens grown in the hills of Boseong and Hadong in the south of the country and, more recently, on Jeju Island. In the cup it sits between its neighbors: nuttier and rounder than Japanese sencha, less grassy than Chinese Long Jing, with a savory sweetness and a toasted edge that our catalog records as nutty, sweet, toasted and umami. It is a level 2 on our 0-to-3 caffeine scale, and it brews at 167°F (75°C) for 90 seconds with 3 g of leaf per cup.

Where it grows: Hadong, Boseong and Jeju

Korean tea is a small world with three addresses. Hadong, on the slopes of Jirisan along the Seomjin River, is where the Samguk Sagi chronicle places the first tea seeds, planted in 828 CE by the envoy Kim Daeryeom; its steep, semi-wild gardens are still picked by hand, and in November 2017 the FAO listed the traditional Hadong tea system as a Globally Important Agricultural Heritage System. Boseong, further west in South Jeolla, is the opposite picture: terraced plantations laid out from 1957 that today account for roughly a third or more of the country's tea, depending on whose figures you read, and the landscape most people picture when they think of Korean tea. Jeju Island is the newcomer, planted from 1979 on volcanic ground. Our origin page for South Korea sits next to the nokcha page in the catalog.

How it is made, and why it tastes the way it does

The difference between nokcha and the greens beside it on the shelf is mostly heat. Japanese producers steam the fresh leaf to stop oxidation, which keeps the cup bright, vegetal and marine; most Chinese greens are pan-fired, which brings out chestnut and toast. Korea does both, with pan-firing, called deokeum, as the dominant style and a lighter, steamed jeungje style as the minority. After firing, the leaf is rolled by hand or machine and dried in several rounds back in the pan, which is where the toasted note comes from and why the finished leaf looks twisted and slightly curled rather than needle-flat like sencha or pellet-rolled like gunpowder. The misty mornings of Boseong and Hadong do the rest, slowing the leaf down and keeping it tender.

The four grades are dates, not quality marks

Korean green tea is graded by when it was picked, and the names follow the old solar calendar. Ujeon is the earliest flush, picked before the spring rains of gogu, around April 20: only the unopened bud, the smallest harvest and the most expensive. Sejak follows, picked between gogu and ipha, the start of summer around May 5, as a bud with one young leaf; it is the grade you will most often find outside Korea, and the one our catalog describes. Jungjak is picked after ipha through May, a bud with two leaves, fuller and more toasted. Daejak comes last, from late May into June, with larger leaves and a bolder, grassier cup that Koreans mostly drink iced or use in blends. The exact calendar shifts with the weather of each year, which is why the dates on any bag you read are approximate.

Nokcha next to sencha, Long Jing and gyokuro

The catalog puts the comparison in numbers. Sencha and nokcha share the same water, 167°F (75°C), and the same 90 seconds, but nokcha asks for 3 g per cup against sencha's 2 g: the twisted leaf is less dense than a flat needle and needs a little more in the pot. Long Jing, the pan-fired Chinese classic, takes the same 167°F (75°C) for 2 minutes with 2 g and shares nokcha's nutty, sweet register, which makes it the closest cousin on the shelf. Gyokuro is the odd one out: shaded before harvest, brewed cooler at 140°F (60°C) for 2 minutes with 3 g, and a level 3 on our caffeine scale where nokcha reads level 2. If you want the family tree before the details, our beginner's guide to tea types sets out where every green sits; for the roasted Japanese cousin that goes the other way, hojicha has its own guide.

How to brew it at home

Take the numbers from the tea page: 3 g of leaf, water at 167°F (75°C), 90 seconds. Boiling water is the usual mistake with any green, and nokcha is no exception; how water temperature changes the taste of your tea explains why a hotter cup turns bitter. A good sejak gives two or three infusions from the same leaf, so add fifteen to thirty seconds to each later steep rather than more leaf. Korean tea tables often pour the kettle into a small cooling bowl before it reaches the pot, which is a built-in way of landing near 167°F (75°C) without a thermometer: water off the boil, rested in a second vessel for a minute or two, is close enough. For the later, bolder grades, the iced nokcha with toasted rice and plum in our drinks section is the everyday Korean way to use jungjak or daejak.

At the table, and where to find it

Nokcha is a table tea in Korea, served after meals and poured for guests, and the pairing logic follows its savory sweetness: steamed rice, grilled fish, light soups and the rice cakes that go with the darye tea ceremony. What to eat with Korean nokcha in our pairing section goes dish by dish. The other everyday Korean cup is not tea at all: boricha, roasted barley simmered and served hot or iced, caffeine-free, is what sits in the pitcher at most restaurants. For a tin of the real thing, the nokcha page lists the shops in our directory that carry it, country by country, from a Korean sejak at a tea house in Spain to a Jeju garden tea in Kuwait and supermarket nokcha in Canada, each with the price and size the shop itself publishes. If you have only drunk Japanese or Chinese greens, nokcha is the easiest way to taste what a third tradition does with the same leaf: the same water as sencha, a little more leaf, and a cup that leans toward chestnut instead of seaweed.