By Ariann Khoo (26SO6B), Christian Adriel Tan (26S07B) and Tara Teo (26A01D)

Or at least that’s what we thought.

Matcha was once elusively gatekept in the islands of Japan, only known by tea aficionados for its vivid green colour and rich umami profile. But now, almost everyone in the world can get their matcha fixes anytime and anywhere—even the RI Year 1-4 Canteen offers a large cup of one-dollar matcha! Its rise in popularity isn’t just about aesthetics or trendiness (though its Instagrammable colour certainly helps)—matcha is beloved for its smooth, earthy flavour and its myriad of health benefits. And these qualities are only found because of its tedious and exact production! Of course, the premium branding behind ‘matcha’ makes it hard to believe that such cheap matcha with at least some form of quality can be found so easily, especially like the matcha in the RI Year 1-4 Canteen.

But herein lies the paradox that plagues all matcha lovers, especially students: a premium experience demands a premium price.  

That is, unless you know where to look.

Armed with an unlimited desire for matcha and yet a limited budget, the three writers in this article set out on a mission: finding matcha that doesn’t break the bank but still fulfills our matcha cravings. Finding that coveted sweet spot between affordability, authenticity and taste seemed like mission impossible, but over three weeks, we traversed malls and hidden cafés, evaluating each cup of matcha with a set of criteria: quality, taste and worth. And of course, we’ve come up with the (almost) definitive list of cheap but surprisingly good matcha spots that prove premium doesn’t always mean pricey. 

And just as a bonus, we’re describing each cup of matcha with a core RI experience that we resonate the most with – because honestly, some cups taste like the moment of panic right before your TPs, or that satisfying moment when your CT lets you out five minutes early.

Let the thrift-tea journey begin.

The No-no Matcha: Tomo Cafe

Imagine this. It is a painfully hot Tuesday at 755am. You are rushing to class because one, you’re already late and two, your class is unfortunately at Level 7 of Raja Block. With your heavy bag hanging sadly on top of your droopy shoulders, the neverending flight of stairs feels like forever. Then, you realise you have to be back at level 2 in 10 minutes for a practical lesson. A wave of displeasure and annoyance fills your head as your heart rate increases with the unwanted exercise. Simply a series of unfortunate events. 

Similarly, the Iced Matcha Cloud Latte at Tomo cafe increased not only our sugar levels, but our blood pressure as it unfortunately did not live up to its hype or its price. It was unnecessarily expensive ($8.00), the serving size was pathetically small and the matcha annoyingly left an unflattering aftertaste. Just like its grassy colour, it had a strong grassy flavour which was far from enjoyable. I’m sorry Tomo but this matcha was a huge no-no.

Overall rating: 1.5/5 – unfortunately flimsy.

Ichigo, you’re the way to go

Ichigo was like a breath of fresh air—a break from the bland ordinary, a pleasant surprise. It gives you the same feeling as when your batch gets dismissed 40 minutes early from cohort time: unexpected, catching you off guard and sweet (literally). Despite being slightly on the expensive side ($7.90), the Strawberry Uji Matcha Latte’s portion size is generous. The soft green undertones of matcha, blended with fresh, creamy milk, are beautifully balanced by the sweet strawberry paste, which gently nudges your taste buds with a mix of heavenly sweetness. Overall rating: 4/5 – solid green gold.

Heavenly Hvala

We now come to arguably the most reputable matcha place: Hvala. Hvala prides itself on authenticity and serving customers with a ‘wide array of teas’, which immediately ticked our boxes as ‘matcha purists’ (or wannabe purists, at least). This commitment to authenticity probably justified their sky-high prices, with their Yuki Matcha Latte with Fresh Milk costing $8.50 ($10.19 with GST). Naturally, our expectations were sky-high as well.

The colour leaned on the darker side – a good sign of higher matcha concentration. And true enough, the flavour delivered: bold, slightly bitter, and unmistakably umami, the latter being what many cups of matcha fail to give. It wasn’t diluted or overly sweetened like many cheaper alternatives. The richness was clear, and the creaminess helped balance out the intensity, even if it wasn’t the smoothest blend we’ve had. The texture was slightly grainy—possibly due to the traditional preparation method, or the powder not fully dissolving—which gave it a more rustic feel, though some might find it less palatable.

Still, while the quality was undeniable, this is very much a luxury purchase—one to savour on special occasions, not your daily study fuel. Think: Gaming at the Hodge Lodge, competing with your classmates over a chaotic game of Mario Kart, and you manage to clutch up and clinch that gold in that round of Mario Kart. That fleeting moment of euphoric triumph, the joy of shared camaraderie, the indulgence in something you don’t usually allow yourself – that’s what exactly describes this cup of matcha.

The three writers, of course, had to indulge in an extra treat (Because matcha is THAT irresistible.)

It’s intense. It’s sweet, sweet victory. It makes you feel like you’ve treated yourself to something just a little more special than usual. But just like how a day at the Hodge Lodge is a rare treat for most—a once-in-a-blue-moon pocket of joy between lectures and deadlines—this matcha isn’t something you’d have every day. It’s something to sip slowly, to savour, and to store in your memory as a tiny luxury that reminds you life can be just a little bit sweeter (and greener).

Overall rating: 3.5/5 – solid, sophisticated, but steep (in all aspects).

High-key Bad: Itea

The Matcha Latte was… questionable. Like the faltering “Raffles!” cheer every morning, the hint of matcha was weak, and it did not stand out to us matcha connoisseurs. Sweating under the sweltering hot sun definitely did not help with the cheer, and neither did the colour of the matcha, similar to that of wilting grass, improve its rating. Just like the soft cheer fading among the sea of students, the matcha taste was subtle, lost in the dominance of milk. 

Overall rating: 1.5/5 – unfortunately flimsy.

Dondondonki

From the start, our expectations weren’t too high. The matcha had been poured clumsily from a hygienically dubious jug, where the matcha powder had settled to the bottom after sitting for too long. While it was initially milky, bitterness from the oxidised matcha lingered at the back of every sip. Fortunately coming in clutch, the price of $3.20 was so cheap that it almost blinded us from the glaring shortcomings of this matcha. 

Much of this can be said about orientation too. The initial feelings of trepidation tinged excitement, the buildup of relationships as we laughed and cried with people who once were strangers, and the inevitable bittersweet goodbyes. Do, do, do, try this at least once, if only to reminisce about the fleetingly sweet days of ori.  

Overall rating: 2/5 – dupe for desperate matcha cravings 

RI

It seems I like to play games with myself. Every morning, I join a swarm of RI students rushing to seal their fate of exhilarating success, or a defeated trip to the SAC. As an avid “Wwill Ii be late to the parade square today?” gambler, I couldn’t resist gambling with my taste buds and stomach to attempt making matcha right in RI. Armed with a matcha making kit and matcha powder from my friends (thank you 26A01D), we set out to prove ourselves. Terrible idea. 

(The reactions of obviously satisfied drinkers of the homemade matcha.)

The flavour was matcha-less, overly milky, and weirdly enough… salty. As a friend accurately described it: “It tastes like if you put sweat into your mouth”. But beyond just the taste, I’d argue the true value lies in the experience. The process of making the matcha brought so much laughter, connection, and in one case an immediate spitting out of our wretched green concoction! Safe to say, with this matcha, the highs are high, and the lows… are really low.

The Final Judgement

After five cups, numerous caffeine crashes, and a taste bud annihilation of home-made matcha in RI – is there truly no such thing as too much matcha?

Matcha, much like life in RI, comes in shades of green and grey: it could be bold or bland, rich or regrettable, creamy or confusing. Authenticity doesn’t always come with a $10 price tag like Hvala, and cheap doesn’t mean that matcha is always undrinkable—although it comes dangerously close (we’re looking at you, iTea). We realised that every cup has its own personality—some striking and refined, others confused and questionably salty. But the best moments aren’t always about perfection. They’re about discovering joy in the in-between: a matcha that surprises you, a matcha that comforts you, or even a hilariously bad matcha that makes for a good story.

In the end, we found that there really is no such thing as too much matcha—only different kinds of matcha for different days, moods and budgets. Whether you’re relishing your precious yet fleeting time at the Hodge Lodge, or dreading the humdrum of morning assembly, there’s always a cup of matcha out there for you. So go forth with our list, fellow tea connoisseurs. May your matcha be smooth, your days be steeped in serenity, and your wallet only slightly bruised.

Because in the end, every matcha tells a story – and every story is worth sipping.

Here’s a fun ‘Matcha Political Spectrum’ that we’ve created based on our ratings – so that you can find just the right matcha you need for any occasion.

The Matcha Political Spectrum