Kyusu — The Japanese Teapot and Its Side Handle

The Kyusu is not simply a teapot. It is a tool that emerged from centuries of use, shaped by potters who understood how clay, water, and tea leaf speak to one another. Anyone who has held a real Kyusu knows the difference immediately: the weight, the balance, the way the handle settles into the palm. In Japan, this pot is the standard vessel for green tea. But its form, its materiality, and the way it is built follow a logic that goes well beyond the functional.

Form follows function: why the side handle?

The characteristic side handle of the Kyusu is not an aesthetic ornament. It allows precise control when pouring, without burning your hand or having to tilt the pot. Unlike European teapots with a rear handle or Chinese Gongfu pots, the Kyusu is designed for one-handed, fluid pouring. The hand rests along the side, the thumb presses lightly on the lid, and the wrist stays relaxed. This gesture is part of a larger choreography: the preparation of Sencha, Gyokuro, or other Japanese green teas, where temperature, steeping time, and pouring technique are decisive.

Most Kyusu have a built-in strainer — either ceramic, stainless steel, or, in higher-quality pieces, hand-woven stainless steel mesh. This strainer sits directly inside the pot, usually behind the spout, and holds back the fine tea leaves without impeding the flow. In traditional Kyusu from Tokoname, the strainer is sometimes integrated directly into the clay: tiny holes that form during firing or are pierced by hand. This solution is elegant, but also demanding to maintain.

Tokoname: the centre of Kyusu tradition

When talking about Kyusu, you have to talk about Tokoname. This coastal city in Aichi Prefecture has been one of Japan's six oldest pottery centres since the 12th century. The clay there is iron-rich — the iron oxide content of some Tokoname clay bodies exceeds 8 percent, which explains the characteristic reddish colouration in oxidation firing. It is porous enough to develop a fine patina with use, yet dense enough to hold water. The distinctive red tone comes from oxidation in the kiln. Some potters blend in black clay or use glazes that accentuate the iron content. Others leave the surface unglazed and polish it before firing, producing a velvety, almost leather-like texture.

Tokoname Kyusu are not uniform. Each workshop has its own signature: flatter or rounder forms, narrower or wider spouts, different handle shapes. Some potters press patterns into the clay; others leave it smooth. There are Kyusu thrown on the wheel and others built by hand. The production process is material-led. The clay determines the form. The form determines how the tea flows and how the pot sits in the hand.

The qualities of Tokoname-yaki Kyusu go beyond pure aesthetics. The iron-rich clay is said to soften tannins and give the tea a rounder, less bitter quality. Whether that is measurable or simply tradition is open to debate. But anyone who works regularly with a well-seasoned Tokoname Kyusu will taste the difference. The pot changes with every infusion. The clay absorbs oils and minerals. The interior develops a thin layer that stabilises the flavour. This is not contamination — it is seasoning.

Types and variations: Yokode, Ushirode, Uwade

Not every Kyusu has a side handle. There are three main types, distinguished by handle position. The Yokode Kyusu is the classic form with a side handle, as described above. It is the most common and is used for most Japanese green teas. The Ushirode Kyusu has a rear handle, similar to a Western teapot. This form is rarer and often appears in larger pots with greater capacity. The Uwade Kyusu has an overhead bail handle. This variant is historically older and less common today.

Beyond these, there are Hohin and Shiboridashi — smaller, handleless pots used for high-quality teas at low temperatures. They are flat, wide, and hold 100 to 200 millilitres. You hold them with both hands and pour carefully. These vessels are intended for Gyokuro or fine Sencha, where every nuance counts. They belong to a different preparation practice, but they share the same material language: unglazed clay, precise spouts, integrated strainer.

Material and surface treatment

The clay is not neutral. It influences how the tea tastes. Unglazed, high-fired clay is known in Japan as yakishime. It is breathable and retains heat differently from porcelain or glazed ceramics. The surface can be polished, sandblasted, coated with ash, or treated with minerals. Some potters work with a firing effect called yohen (窯変), in which natural discolourations and colour gradients appear during the firing. These are unpredictable — every pot becomes a one of a kind.

At UNEARTHED we stock pieces including the Shudei Hira Kyusu by Seiji Ito and a curated selection of Kyusu that includes pieces from Tokoname as well as other regions of Japan. The differences are in the details: the weight of the lid, the width of the spout, the texture of the exterior. A well-made Kyusu has a spout that pours cleanly without dripping. The lid sits firmly but not too tight. The strainer is fine enough to hold back even broken leaves, but not so tight that it clogs.

Preparation: temperature, time, technique

A Kyusu is made for Japanese green tea. That means lower temperatures than for black tea or Chinese Oolong. Sencha is typically brewed at 60 to 80 degrees Celsius; Gyokuro cooler still, at 50 to 60 degrees. The water should not boil — it should cool down. Many Japanese tea drinkers use a Yuzamashi, a small cooling vessel, to bring the temperature down. Hot water goes in, rests briefly, then transfers to the Kyusu.

Leaf quantity depends on the tea. For Sencha, roughly 6 to 8 grams per 200 millilitres; for Gyokuro often more. The leaves go into the pot, tempered water is poured over them, and they steep for 30 seconds to one minute. Then the tea is poured out completely — meaning to the last drop. The final drops carry the highest concentration. Leave them in the pot and the second infusion turns bitter.

The Kyusu allows multiple infusions. The second is often shorter — just 10 to 20 seconds, with slightly hotter water. The third can be longer, depending on how much the leaves still have to give. This practice is less formalised than the Chinese Gongfu ceremony, but it follows similar principles: respect for the leaf, attention to temperature and time, care when pouring.

Care and patina

An unglazed clay Kyusu needs care, but not cleaning in the Western sense. Rinse it with hot water after use — nothing more. No soap, no sponge. The clay is porous and would absorb chemicals. Some tea drinkers dedicate a Kyusu to a single tea: one for Sencha, another for Gyokuro. Nothing mingles, and over months and years the pot develops a specific patina.

The interior darkens — sometimes brownish, sometimes almost black. This is not a layer of grime but tea resin. It protects the clay and stabilises the flavour. Some collectors prize the patina more than the pot itself. It is evidence of use, of time, of the relationship between object and ritual. A new Kyusu is a tool. An old, well-cared-for Kyusu is a companion.

After each use the pot should dry completely. Leave it open without the lid so air can circulate. Moisture in the clay leads to mould or off-smells. Some potters recommend heating the pot empty occasionally to remove residual moisture. Others advise against it to avoid cracks. As with so much in ceramics, there is no absolute rule — only experience.

Imperfection as quality

The history of the Kyusu is closely bound to Japanese tea culture, but it is not a ceremonial object in the strict sense. Chanoyu, the formal tea ceremony, uses other vessels: Chawan, Chasen, Natsume. The Kyusu belongs to everyday practice — to the house, to the kitchen. Even so, it is shaped by an aesthetic close to Wabi-Sabi: imperfection as beauty, traces of use as value, material as expression.

Many Kyusu are asymmetrical. The handle does not sit exactly centred, the spout is slightly angled, the surface shows irregularities. This is not carelessness but intention. The potter works with the clay, not against it. Room is left for what happens in the kiln: tensions, discolouration, small shifts. A technically flawless machine-made Kyusu may be perfect, but it has no presence. A hand-formed pot carries the maker's fingerprints. It is a one of a kind, even when it belongs to a series.

Kyusu and the European perspective

In Europe the Kyusu was overlooked for a long time. Tea culture here generally meant black tea, porcelain, silver. Japanese green tea was exotic and often poorly prepared. That has changed over the last two decades. As interest in Matcha, Sencha, and Gyokuro grew, so did understanding of the tools. The Kyusu was discovered by tea specialists and ceramics collectors — not just as a functional object, but as the expression of a different relationship to materiality and use.

At UNEARTHED we bring these two worlds together: Japanese craft and a European eye for form and context. Our exhibitions and our range show Kyusu not in isolation but embedded in a larger conversation about ceramics, tea, and making. Alongside Japanese pottery we also carry European and Chinese pieces that ask similar questions: how does a material feel? How does an object change through use? What does it mean to pick something up every day?

Buying a Kyusu from us means acquiring a vessel that teaches something. Using it daily, you learn to temper water, measure leaves, track time. Pouring attentively, you begin to feel the difference between a fast and a slow pour. The Kyusu is a quiet teacher.

Variations in form and function

Not every Kyusu is the same size. The standard sits at 200 to 300 millilitres — ideal for two to three cups. But there are smaller models for solo use and larger ones for group settings. Size determines how quickly the water cools, how much room the leaves have to open, how long to steep. A small Kyusu cools faster; a large one holds heat longer.

Spout shape also varies. Some are short and wide, others long and narrow. A short spout produces a forceful flow; a long spout offers more control. The best spouts angle slightly downward so the tea pours cleanly without running along the outside of the pot. The cut of the spout must be precise — otherwise it drips.

The lid is a frequently overlooked detail. It should fit well but not too tightly. It needs a small hole so air can escape and no vacuum forms. Some Kyusu have flat lids, others domed ones. The shape influences how steam condenses and drips back into the pot. A good lid is more than a cover — it is part of the system.

Kyusu in contemporary ceramics

While traditional Tokoname workshops continue producing classic forms, younger potters are experimenting with the format. They shift proportions, mix clay bodies, explore glazes. Some work with European stoneware, others draw on Chinese techniques. The Kyusu has become a space where traditions meet.

In the collections at UNEARTHED you find these hybrid works: Kyusu that follow the Japanese formal line but are made from European clay, or Chinese potters who adopt the side-handle form and combine it with Yixing clay. These crossings are not arbitrary — they are a dialogue. They show that the Kyusu is not a closed chapter but a living form.

Kyusu and Sencha: a natural pairing

The Kyusu is inseparable from Sencha, the most widely drunk green tea in Japan. Sencha is steamed rather than roasted and has a fresh, grassy character. The leaves are needle-shaped, sometimes deep green, sometimes almost blue-green. Preparation in the Kyusu brings these aromas forward without overwhelming them. The clay softens the sharpness, the integrated strainer holds back fine leaf particles, and the controlled pour distributes the infusion evenly.

At UNEARTHED we offer a carefully curated selection of Sencha alongside our Kyusu — including Yame Sencha from an award-winning farmer in the village of Hoshino, and quality Shizuoka Sencha. The relationship between the right pot and the right tea is not a side note. It is central to the experience.

Buying a Kyusu: what to look for

Anyone considering a Kyusu should check a few things. First: weight. A good Kyusu sits balanced in the hand, the centre of gravity well distributed. Second: the spout. It should pour cleanly without dripping. Third: the lid. It should sit firmly but come off without effort. Fourth: the strainer. Fine enough to hold back leaves, but not so fine that it blocks.

Material is a matter of preference. Unglazed clay develops patina; glazed stays neutral. Tokoname is the benchmark, but not the only option. Other regions of Japan produce excellent Kyusu as well. Prices range from accessible everyday pieces to collectors' works by established potters. A good Kyusu does not need to be expensive, but it should be carefully made.

When in doubt, pick it up. That is the best test. Does it feel right? Does the handle sit well? Is the surface pleasant to the touch? The Kyusu is a tactile object. It has to feel right — otherwise you will not use it.

The Kyusu is a tool that teaches what attention means: to material, to time, to flavour. It connects tradition and daily use in a way that has become rare in Europe. Anyone who begins preparing tea with a Kyusu enters a space where gesture and result belong together. At UNEARTHED we curate Kyusu, tea, and ceramics that share this sensibility — objects made not just to be looked at, but to be used every day. Visit us in Munich or online and see what craft feels like.

Kyusu FAQ

Which teapot is best for green tea?
A Kyusu. Its fine built-in mesh, wide body, and side handle suit the low temperatures and short steeps of Sencha and Gyokuro far better than a Western teapot or a tall infuser. For Gyokuro, a small Kyusu of around 150–200 ml concentrates the brew.

What is the difference between Yokode, Ushirode, and Uwade Kyusu?
They are named by handle position. Yokode (横手) is a side handle — the most common, giving the most control for small green-tea pours. Ushirode (後手) is a rear handle like a Western teapot, better for larger volumes. Uwade (上手) is a top handle, often used for Hojicha or serving.

Kyusu or Shiboridashi — which should I choose?
A Kyusu has a built-in strainer and a handle; a Shiboridashi is a small, handle-less bowl with a spout for the most delicate, concentrated teas. Start with a Kyusu for everyday green tea, and add a Shiboridashi for high-grade Gyokuro.

What clay are Kyusu made from?
The classic is Tokoname shudei (朱泥), an iron-rich red stoneware. The unglazed clay interacts with the tea over time, softening astringency and developing a patina with use. Other clays and glazes exist, but Tokoname shudei is the benchmark.

How do you clean and care for a Kyusu?
Rinse with hot water only — never soap, which the porous clay absorbs. Empty the leaves after each use, rinse the mesh, and let it air-dry fully with the lid off. A darkening interior is patina, not dirt.