Have you gone for your coffee or pastry fix lately?
Perhaps you’ve walked into a large café franchise or bakery?
Maybe you’ve noticed something bright and purple in the menu?
Chances are, it’s probably ube.
I wouldn’t be surprised if so. Ube is enjoying its limelight at a global scale, driven by its vibrant purple hue and adaptability.
Ube, the starchy, vibrant purple yam native to the Philippines, is rapidly being dubbed as “the new matcha” in the global café and dessert scene. Its mild, sweet notes of vanilla and nuttiness make it popular in desserts, particularly in ube halaya, halo-halo, and ube cake. For centuries, it has been a staple on family dinner tables across the Philippines and throughout the Filipino diaspora from Christmases, birthdays, and graduations alike. Case in point, with Easter just gone, my family made bilo-bilo or binignit, a Visayan dessert made with coconut milk, glutinous rice, and various tubers, including ube, typically served on Good Friday.
Ube’s viral trend
Ube has gained global recognition driven by its vibrant purple colour, versatility, social media trends, and the rise of Asian-inspired desserts. Filipino cuisine continues to carve out its place on the world stage, and ube’s viral moment might just be the springboard it needs. As a Filipino, it always excites me when other people get acquainted with Filipino dishes, and ube is no exception. Billy Dec, a Filipino-American restaurateur, said it well, “For many, ube is their first taste of Filipino food, and it’s opening the door to even more discovery and appreciation of our culture”.
Australia’s café culture is well-placed within this trend. Ube has long been the backbone of Filipino-owned cafés and dessert shops. In my hunt for authentic Filipino cafés and restaurants in Sydney, I found ube in Tita’s ube scroll, Taguan’s brownie and Kariton’s gelatos. The COVID-19 pandemic helped spur its popularity, but uptake has grown exponentially in recent years as mainstream café culture has embraced its subtle flavour profile and striking colour. As a regular in beloved Yo-Chi, I noticed they have also introduced ube-flavoured frozen yogurt which my sister and I were way too eager to try (see picture below).
Sundays are family days for me. We always end up in a cafe, and it just happened that we chose Starbucks one Sunday morning. Unsurprisingly, my parents opted for their ube vanilla velvet latte out of curiosity. So you can see even large franchises are also riding the purple wave, and the momentum is being felt internationally, with the US and UK seeing a growing appetite for ube.
At a grand scale, ube-based product exports reached almost 1.7 million kg, worth over $3.2 million last year, according to the Philippine Department of Trade and Industry (DTI). A 20.4% rise from 2024 and projected to increase further this year.
But there is more than meets the eye behind the purple rush.
- Surging global demand is outpacing supply in the Philippines
Annual ube production in the Philippines has dropped from above 15 million kg in 2021 to roughly 14 million kg over the last two years, according to New York Times. Yet exports have quadrupled in recent years, with more than half of exports bound for the United States, a paradox where the Philippines is sending more ube abroad even as it harvests less at home. The consequence? The Philippines (the crop’s primary producer) is now importing ube from neighbouring countries like Vietnam and China just to meet local demand.
- Climate change is threatening ube supplies
Ube is considered one of the Philippines’ most resilient crops, thriving through dry and wet seasons before its harvest window between November and February. Cultivated in small mountainside plots in places like Baguio over 10 to 11 months, it is nonetheless vulnerable to temperature fluctuations and unpredictable weather patterns exacerbated by the climate crisis.
The Philippines is one of the countries most at risk from the climate crisis, and its agricultural sector bears much of the burden. Farmers, among the most marginalised and climate-vulnerable communities in the country – and yet the very people who feed it – face losses they rarely cause and can least afford. Last year alone, the Philippines endured the most destructive storms of the year, including Super Typhoon Ragasa and Typhoon Fung-Wong, with farmers consistently naming typhoons as their biggest threat.
So whether it is excess sun, wind or rain, each disruption compounds the pressure on an already strained crop and the livelihood of farmers.
- Farmers overselling their harvest
With ube commanding a premium on the global market, farmers are understandably cashing in by selling as much of their harvest. But this short-termism risks depleting supplies set aside for replanting, threatening the following season’s supply. Adding to the strain, Congress has cut the agricultural department’s budget by around 10% or $170,000 and even then, most of the budget is directed primarily towards rice, corn and other staple crops, leaving ube farmers with little institutional support.
- The risk of gentrification and diluting its cultural heritage
Ube is getting the spotlight it deserves as it enters the mainstream. But there are growing concerns that its commercial rebranding risks severing the ingredient from its Filipino roots. Just from my quick scroll on social media, many Filipinos online are calling it out as gentrification, where ube drinks are being sold at marked-up prices in trendy cafés while local farmers see little of that profit.
There are also instances of vendors capitalising on the trend by substituting ube with extract products, sweet potato, powder, or leaving it out entirely, using only purple food colouring for the aesthetic. This is made worse by a lack of cultural understanding and persistent supply chain issues. A lost opportunity to genuinely spotlight Filipino cuisine on a global stage.
Yo-chi and Starbucks explicitly acknowledging ube’s Filipino origins is one sign that larger establishments are giving credit where it is due, signalling a cultural awareness (a contrast to the UK’s Costa Coffee, by the way). But in terms of tasting authenticity? That is for you, fellow kababayans, to decide.
As ube takes hold of the global food scene, more cafés will likely ride the wave. For curious consumers and foodies, your money is probably better spent supporting Filipino-owned businesses. Not only for an authentic experience, but because those purchases flow back into the local economy and the hands of the people who have championed this ingredient all along.
Café operators and franchises also need to look seriously at their supply chains and their triple bottom line, right down to the local small-scale ube farmers who are facing enormous pressure and deserve to share in the benefits of this newfound recognition.
From a broader perspective, this is a challenge for the Philippines’ agricultural department to build resilience in local production and plan ahead for the growing global appetite for one of its most beloved crops.
Ube has sat at the heart of Filipino celebrations, family tables, and cultural memory for generations. As its profile grows beyond Filipino borders, the hope is that its roots travel with it, not just reduced to a purple aesthetic or a passing profit play.
