Last December, Pantone crowned billowing white “Cloud Dancer” as its 2026 Color of the Year. Just a few months later, evidence suggests that the go-to hue experts may have decided on the latest shade prematurely.
From New York coffee shops to Sydney bakeries to London beauty retailers, purple is taking hold around the world. Its hues range from vibrant violet to bright lavender, and its origins can be traced back to the Philippines.
More specifically, a native species of yam lives just below the surface of the archipelago. It is a starchy root vegetable that goes by many names, including Dioscorea alata, Uwi, and Guyana Arrowroot, but is most often known locally as ube, and increasingly internationally as ube.
Ube (pronounced U-beh), which means “tuber” in Tagalog, a language spoken throughout the Philippines, has become an increasingly lucrative Philippine export as the world seeks to satisfy its appetite for the earthy-purple ingredient with nutty, vanilla-like flavors.
Approximately 1.7 million kilograms (worth more than $3.2 million) of Ube Industries products were exported from the Southeast Asian country last year, an increase of 20.4% from 2024, according to data shared with CNN by the Philippine Department of Trade and Industry (DTI).
Almost half of these Ube exports, approximately 956,000 kg (valued at $1.5 million), were destined for the United States. This is twice as much as the United States imported last year and more than the next five largest markets (Canada, Australia, United Kingdom, Netherlands, and New Zealand) combined.
Earlier this month, Starbucks launched the Iced Ube Coconut Macchiato at all U.S. stores as a “trending” addition to its Spring Refresh menu.
Last year, Starbucks added more Ube products in Europe, focusing on both iced lattes and traditional vanilla lattes, citing its popularity among customers of the coffee chain’s Reserve stores, its flagship stores that offer unique drinks.
Some variations are infused with matcha, a Japanese powdered tea that has taken the world by storm over the past decade and appeared on TikTok (also known as MatchaTok) about 700,000 times as of last September.
Sure enough, videos of users sampling the new ube drink, which was also launched this month by UK-based coffee shop chain Costa, are already circulating across social media platforms.
The similarities between two particularly picturesque products that have become viral hits are no coincidence for Bettina Macarintal, senior reporter at food and dining culture website Eater.
“It’s that instant visual impact,” Macalintal, who was born in the Philippines and immigrated to the United States at age 5, told CNN.
“Even if it’s something very familiar and simple, having a different or exciting color can help bring out its appeal, like a rainbow bagel, an acai bowl, or a thinner-than-usual strawberry like matcha.
“We felt Ube was an obvious candidate both because, ‘This is a new flavor that’s not as challenging for people, but also fits with their desire to eat food that looks good and is beautiful.’
Beverages are just one branch of Ube’s supply chain. When crushed and boiled with milk, sugar and butter, a thick spread called ube halaya is formed. It is also called halayan ube.
Although jam is an independent dessert, it is also used as a topping, filling, or base for various desserts. Kora, a Filipino pop-up bakery in New York City, built a waiting list of 10,000 people in 2021, thanks in part to the overwhelming popularity of its ube brioche donuts. A permanent store opened in Queens last March.
Cheesecakes, flans, and ice creams likewise boast Ube-inspired variations around the world, and Trader Joe’s Ube Mochi Pancake and Waffle Mix has proven to be a big hit with limited-time releases each year since 2020.
The beauty world is also cashing in on this trend, with cosmetics brand Huda Beauty launching a collection of ube-inspired products worldwide in January 2025, including setting powders and lip glosses.
“Today, it (ube) is everywhere,” Lionel Dabadi, the United Nations Food and Agriculture Organization (FAO) representative in the Philippines, said in a speech at the International Farm Tourism Conference in Baguio City, Philippines, earlier this month.
“Ube ice cream in New York, ube cake in London, ube latte in Tokyo. This is an incredible success story.”
But that success has put enormous pressure on those tasked with ensuring supply can keep up with the world’s accelerating demand for purple potatoes.
According to the New York Times, annual ube production in the Philippines has fallen from more than 15 million kilograms in 2021 to about 14 million kilograms in the past two years, with most of the production set aside for domestic consumption. In recent years, Vietnam and China have accelerated purple yam production, the New York Times added.
Unlike rice, corn, and other mass-produced crops, ube is typically grown on small, seasonal plots. Due to the large number of plots spread across Central Visayas, the tubers require sufficient moisture throughout the growing season until they are harvested between November and February, approximately 10 to 11 months after planting.
As such, it is particularly vulnerable to changing conditions and is not ideal for a country that is becoming increasingly accustomed to extreme weather events.
Last November, Typhoon Fanwon became the 21st named storm of the year to impact the Philippines, as the climate crisis continues to disproportionately impact the Global South.
Moreover, many farmers are looking to cash in on the current global interest in ube by selling as much of their crop as possible while prices are high, a February report by British multinational research firm BMI revealed. Ube is typically grown by burying cut tubers, which only exacerbates the supply problem by creating a shortage of material needed for the next harvest, the report claims.
All of these factors contribute to the growing difficulty of sourcing authentic ube for the broader Filipino-American community, such as those in Macalintal and the “Little Manila” enclave of Woodside, Queens.
“A lot of people I’ve talked to, most Filipinos I know, don’t really have access to real root vegetables,” said Macalintal, who lives in New York City.
“Demand is growing, but availability and import markets are not necessarily keeping up.”
Beyond logistics, there are creeping concerns raised by Ube’s global spread. It is that a beloved national staple is becoming disconnected from its cultural roots.
For generations, Filipinos have been toasting hot summer days and celebratory occasions with tall glasses of halo-halo. Halo-halo is an iconic shaved ice dessert featuring ube halaya, a hodgepodge of colorful toppings ranging from candied jackfruit to sweetened soybeans and tapioca pearls.
Yams are often central to other national dishes, such as the sweet porridge champorado and the sponge cake mammon, but some worry that their importance will fade once they reach foreign shores.
“When I read that very few people knew that ube was from the Philippines, I couldn’t believe it,” Dabadi continued in his speech at the conference.
For Macalinthal, it contributes to a “troubling” self-fulfilling prophecy. Lack of cultural understanding and supply issues often result in vendors substituting true ube with extract products or sweet potatoes, or omitting it entirely and relying solely on purple coloring to “capitalize” on the trend.
This problem is further exacerbated by ube’s inherently bland flavor. When turned into extracts or mixed with key flavors such as coconut, many people trying a range of products sold as ube flavors are sampling only trace amounts or not at all of macarin tar and the other ingredients that countless others feel so passionately protecting.
“Everyone drinks ube now, but they don’t even really know what it tastes like. They reduce it to just a purple thing,” she said.
“The hard part is that it feels like a byproduct of your culture…When you reach the mainstream, you just lose control in the cultural conversation. That’s the trade-off for visibility.”
