Performative or otherwise, matcha has become one of the most reputable drinks of recent years and earned itself an entire brand in the process. No longer is it a green beverage but a symbol of performative males, quarter zips, clean girls and Labubu affiliates; not just a tea, but an identi-tea (I’ll keep my day job). Yet in its newfound stardom, the matcha market has become oversaturated. Nearly every café in every city sells it now with various syrups in tow. So how can we differentiate between a place cashing in on the hype and the real deal? Really, who wants their daily fix watered-down? Here, I have compiled a guide to Birmingham’s best matcha so that this dilemma may be resolved within a mere page; and rest assured, it is a guide of ceremonial standards.

J&H Coffee begins this guide with its cosy atmosphere promising more productive evenings than those spent in your dimly lit accommodation. While their matcha selection is limited, I take this as a sign that they prefer to be a master of two trades, than jack of all. Of these trades, I opted for the blush matcha – an endearing nickname for what is typically recognised as a strawberry matcha latte. Sipping warily, I braced myself for the artificial quality that flavoured matcha so often possesses but was delighted to find the ‘blush’ seemed to derive its sweetness from real strawberries. Whether or not this is the case, I do not know, but one thing I am certain of is its excellent taste. The matcha itself had a bright complexion and tasted all the better for it, raising suspicions of ceremonial status. The café itself is also very aesthetic, perhaps explaining why I paid £5.20 for a short, albeit wide, glass. I suppose matcha tastes even better when enjoyed in an attractive environment. Or at least, that is what I told myself with hands in decidedly empty pockets.

However, Heytea proves that for 70 pence more (that’s £5.90, humanities students) you can get more matcha in its ultimate form: the Triple Supreme Matcha Latte. Though their other matchas boast beautiful colour gradients, this latte needs only its radiant verdure to make itself known to the true matcha fan. After all, why have one matcha medium when you could have three? It consists of matcha latte topped with matcha cheese foam as matcha jelly and mochi lie at its depths. The flavour itself is sweet but balanced, complimented by the texture-fest of soft, creamy mochi and refreshing jelly pieces. Best of all was the matcha cheese foam, though not quite as savoury as you might assume. I encourage you to think less of cheddar and more of cheesecake as a thick cream. Now add matcha to make heaven! This tall serving of matcha extremity promises the cure to your cravings… but could equally worsen your addiction with its moreish nature. The risk is yours to take.

But in trying to abandon my older addictions, I fear I have discovered a new one; Heytea’s younger sister and potential successor, Mollytea. With its pink aesthetic, their reputation for unique floral drinks is externalised, often drawing upon flavours like jasmine and osmanthus. For this reason, I felt compelled to try the Matcha Premium Jasmine Tea. As I watched the thick, almost viscous, matcha be poured atop the jasmine-infused milk, my scepticism kicked in. I am certain matcha has never possessed such a remarkable consistency before but I believe this may have contributed to the velvety feel as the slight but pleasant bitterness of matcha contrasted its delicate floral profile. It seems that once discovered as a union, the pairing of matcha and jasmine becomes the only natural conclusion and should never be separated ever again.

Alas, we come to the conclusion of this guide. Behold, Akari Café – the priciest of all but, in my humble opinion, worth it. Alongside several variations of matcha, yuzu floats included, they offer an array of matcha desserts which, I can confirm, taste just as good as they look. On a fateful summer’s day, I ordered a matcha gelato float and strawberry matcha roll, unaware of how my life (and wallet) would be irrevocably changed. While fabulously green and creamy, the gelato delivered beyond appearance in maintaining its true matcha flavour with subtle sweetness. As it melted into the milk, I took a bite of the cake. Thick matcha cream made up its centre – simultaneously decadent and light, completed by the slight tartness of rogue strawberry slices. Despite being £6 each, I regretted nothing and only wished I was wealthier so I might gorge myself further. Perhaps Akari should be saved for those matcha fans who have finally finished their assignments over the Christmas period – a self-justified treat for its price.

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