Iwasaki Isao Shoten was founded in 1955 by my grandfather, Isao Iwasaki, whose name the company still carries. Our house mark is Marusao, taken from the name of Isao's own grandfather, Bun — every tea merchant here has one of these marks. I am the third generation, and I've been in this trade for ten years.
Our focus is Honyama tea from Shizuoka City, alongside teas from across the prefecture, from Hamamatsu to Numazu. We buy leaf in its unrefined aracha state, finish and fire it ourselves, and supply specialist tea shops. That is the work we do.
Three Sizes, Three Temperatures
After removing the dust and stems from aracha, we sort the leaf into three grades by size — large, medium, and fine. Each size has its own ideal firing temperature, so we roast them separately, then blend them back together into a single finished tea. It's more work than firing everything at once, but it's what gives the tea depth and dimension. We've always done it this way, and it's the part our customers value most.
Picked by Hand, Because Machines Can't Reach
Umegashima sits higher than any other tea district in Shizuoka City — the fields are scattered between 500 and 1,000 meters, clinging to slopes rather than spreading across flat ground. Yields are small. The gap between day and night temperatures is severe, and the buds emerge into conditions harsher than most tea ever faces, which is exactly why they carry so much of the mountain in them. The slopes are too steep for machinery, so hand-picking became the tradition here. A person's eye can take only the best buds, only the softest growth. It costs far more than machine harvesting, and hand-picked tea has become rare. Last year it was named to Shizuoka's "100 Selected Mountain Teas."
Breaking Our Own Rule for One Cultivar
Honyama means light steaming. That's simply what this region does, and it's how we finish nearly everything that passes through our hands, including the Umegashima hand-picked tea — leaf left long and needle-shaped, made in the traditional Shizuoka style by the grower, then fired by us at whatever temperature that particular lot calls for.
But for Marishi, we deliberately do the opposite. Marishi is a cultivar discovered in Shizuoka and registered only about ten years ago, grown in the upper reaches of the Oi River valley. Steamed deeply, its liquor turns a beautiful deep green — a color light steaming simply won't give you. The cultivar itself has very little bitterness or astringency, leading instead with a sweet, concentrated richness. It grows on gentler ground, around 100 to 200 meters at the foot of the mountains, and is machine-harvested.
We chose these two teas for a reason. On our first trip to France, what we heard again and again was that bitterness and astringency are difficult for many French drinkers. Marishi answers that directly. Umegashima carries a little more edge, but it finishes gently — the aftertaste arrives soft. Between them, we thought, there was something for most people.
To Tea Lovers Around the World
A Message from the Maker
Shizuoka has been known for tea for a very long time, and these particular teas were raised with great care by growers deep in the mountains. I'd be glad if you tasted them.
If it helps: the hand-picked Umegashima suits the morning, when you want something clean and bracing. The deep-steamed Marishi is better later — an afternoon, or the end of a day, when you're winding down. Beyond that, drink them whenever you like, with food or with something sweet. That's the best way.
