Eating Salad Standing Up

Inducing mild insanity via matcha lattes

Dec 12, 2025

Sometimes I choose violence. What this looks like is drinking matcha on an empty stomach. And not a fruity little strawberry tiramisu iced hot bubble matcha. Give me the Uji-grade or else, no sweetness, just strong and bitter and green enough to punch me right in the throat. Whether it was serendipitous or utterly ill-fated for me to enter my matcha era right before I traveled to Japan remains up for debate. Even on these particular days, the ones where I’m tripping on caffeine and spinning out fully of my own accord, I can’t quite be certain.

I’m an anxious person and always have been. I always thought I was more anxious than my siblings, and perhaps I am about certain things. But it turns out that my entire family is nervous and sucks at sleeping from time to time because we are thinking about one million different things and ideas. It’s in our blood to weigh every outcome and frankly to put ourselves in situations that may induce anxiety. There is no shortage of CBD or eye masks or melatonin at our house.

All of this to say that I have avoided caffeine for nearly my entire life due to increased sensitivity that could trigger my anxiety. Coffee dates with friends were limited to the very few coffee shops in NYC that can earnestly crank out a decaf without rolling their eyes at you. Otherwise, I was ordering some wack ass herbal tea that tasted like dandelions and I didn’t really love. Once I found out that matcha had “less caffeine”1 than coffee and that I could tolerate it and that shops selling it were proliferating around the city, it seemed I could finally rise to the occasion and meet my coffee-drinking friends where they were at.

I met my friend Magine around this time, who introduced me further to matcha culture and tea drinking at large. Who doesn’t love fully embracing something new and becoming extremely nerdy about it and making it their entire personality? It had been awhile (probably several weeks) since I had done this about anything at all, and so it made sense for me to go headfirst into the matcha world. I got all the accoutrements, began discussing flavor profile with friends, and would go sit at matcha counters midday to watch the painstaking ceremonial process be conducted by a sleep-deprived NYU student between their classes. I’m a pilates princess already so it just made sense for me to become a matcha slut as well.

And so here is who I’ve become: someone who is persnickety about their matcha selections, will make it at home with the whisk and whisk stand, and who will never order a funky matcha. Literally it needs to kick me in the goddamn throat from bitterness. Unfortunately, this has led me to procuring matcha beverages that have, at times, two times as much caffeine as a coffee would. It hurts so good, but the me I am after these matchas is in a sense, high as a kite.

I remember the first few times it happened, when the green magic hit my bloodstream and I felt like I was somehow experiencing life for the first time, like I had just woken up to it all. One autumn Wednesday, I had gotten up early to walk to a “legit matcha spot” on the Lower East Side and within minutes of sipping I felt like I was seeing new colors. I walked further downtown to Dimes Square, where I got the marble loaf from Elbow Bread that I had been wanting to try. Sips of matcha alternating with bites of pastry, preferably a loaf or scone, is a god-tier experience that I seek out with some level of frequency. Standing at the table outside, the uneasy yellow sun wafting through the air, kids going to school and people going to work, I thought to myself, “Gosh, life is so beautiful!”.

When I get to this point, I start texting all of my friends and family how much I love them. I’m sending my best friends a link to a podcast they won’t listen to, I’m telling my brother about the pastry, I’m sending my parents a running stream of consciousness that is all about how happy I am. I’m walking back to my apartment firing off voice memos and then listening back to them in full, in awe of my voice for once. “I am so funny, should I start a podcast?”2

Back at my apartment, I’m sweating and shivering at the same time. I start narrating my every move to no one but myself. “Hey guys, so we’re back with a little series I like to do where I make my morning eggs and tell you about my day.” Sometimes I set up my phone and record myself making my two daily scrambled eggs, sharing an update on my life and general misgivings of the moment with no one at all. Eventually I send the video to my three best friends who dutifully engage. In the mirror, I’m narrating my skincare routine for Vogue’s Beauty Secrets. My skin is looking deplorable and yet my medicine cabinet looks like a mini-Sephora. I try to do it all with my headphones on because if I’m not blasting Brat while riding my matcha high, what an absolute waste.

Suddenly I sprint out of my bathroom and am manically dancing on my bed because Guess what, “Guess” just came on and it is the most badass song ever. My friend Fran said that before job interviews, she had a five step preparation process and that steps 2-5 were just listening to “Guess” four times in a row. I think about that often. It’s the song I put on when I’m stepping out for a run in sub-20 degree temperatures, the one I blast when my crush texts me back, and the one I am putting on every playlist for every party I have, even my annual Berlin party that is predominantly backdropped by 80s German Disco. It just makes sense always.

the two major culprits, 12 matcha and cha&

I’m starting to feel lowkey sick at this point but I head out to get groceries anyway. I procure eggs and more almond milk, and this time I get ingredients for three different Christmas cookie recipes, of which I will probably only make one. When I move out one day I will look at those two bars of white chocolate fondly and wonder, with true genuine wonderment, if I should pack these to actually finally use in something.

My appetite severely blunted, I force down some carbs but never enough. It’s probably just leftover marble loaf. The electrolyte packets that I save for days when I go for long runs in the dripping summer heat are being introduced to the rotation; I’m hydrating like I just ran a marathon but in reality I just went to get a fun little drink.

And in the era of little treats, I don’t feel that bad for choosing violence and getting my strong matcha from time to time. Whenever I get back to New York, I have one of these days because I missed legitimate matcha so much. It really stunts my productivity and makes me feel like a certifiably insane person, but this cost is severely outweighed by a few momentary bits of euphoria amidst the madness. Because in the chaos, I am always blissed out by the beauty of the world and hope for myself and ideas for future projects for at least several seconds. I hate to admit that I thrive in moments of mildly increased stimuli for short periods of time. I make twelve lists and hammer out some texts and writing and then collapse into a trap of scrolling and I tell myself it’s okay because I just had a big day even though it’s only 10am.

Perhaps this is some sort of exposure therapy, inducing my anxiety to make me more resilient in the future. So far I think it’s actually compounding it, but I’m gonna keep justifying it. There really is something about the buzz I get from matcha that keeps me going back to it. I think it’s my inability to sit still and do nothing. When I sip a matcha, it fills that void and make me do stuff. Like with cigarettes, I also feel very cool drinking one.

Lately I’ve been trying to slow down, but my friends all say it looks like I’m speeding up. Starting new things, booking more trips, watching more movies, reading more books (or at least making plans to). I’m perpetually arranging an elaborately textiled weekend of plans and also surreptitiously vision-boarding my future and dreaming in the daytime and learning about new things I should do or buy or be.

Society is increasingly fast-paced, so much so that the zeitgeist morphs and advances at a pace not visible to the human eye. Doers are doing more than ever before and in New York City, the doers are constantly outdoing each other. When I moved here over four years ago, I never had fomo and felt much calmer than my friends who were trying to do everything immediately in the city. The reality is that New York City will beg for your attention with 9 million things every day, and if you don’t get comfortable with the idea that you won’t do all of them, you will simply cease to exist.

I think we all should go crazy from time to time, and if you have to induce that because you’re so sane, my warmest congratulations. This entire essay was sponsored by a hot Uji matcha from Matcha House. Check it out. Multitasking is surely ruining our nervous systems but god it’s pretty fun sometimes. And when I run away to the desert one day to open up my pilates studio x trinket shop x matcha cafe, you will not be surprised. Because what is life without moments of fervor that spawn decisions you otherwise would be afraid to make?

THE MEDIA CORNER

Listen to: Ride with Benito Skinner and Mary Beth Barone

I am the most haphazard podcast listener, but listening to this recent episode from Benito Skinner and Mary Beth Barone had me chortling to myself at the Duane Reade on Saturday while I returned all of my unused Accutane to the powers that be. Both comedians, Skinner and Barone interview Barone’s ex and also my celeb crush, Edward Bluemel in the episode linked above, diving into the reasons that the relationship ultimately failed. The pair being driven apart by Bluemel being on Instagram too much and getting addicted to Grailed was what did it for me. Also that the breakup happened at a cabin / mansion in Canada, sparking a debate over if a cabin can be a mansion and vice versa (please comment below what you think). Basically, tune in to this episode for a laugh. Even if you do not know these people, I guarantee you will smirk at least once.

Watch: His Girl Friday (1940) dir. Howard Hawks

Classic Hollywood really hits like no other. I had to look up what His Girl Friday means and it is a “slang term used to refer to a female personal assistant or secretary who is extremely efficient and capable of handling multiple tasks”. In this essential screwball comedy, Rosalind Russell is Cary Grant’s Girl Friday and so much more. I have never seen dialogue delivered with such rapidity and purpose as it is in this film. It was truly Gilmore Girls exponentiated. The film focuses on a newspaper editor who is about to lose his top reporter and ex-wife to a new man. But as a murderer escapes in town and the two become entangled in reporting one last story together, Hildy and Walter can no longer ignore how speaking rapid-fire to one another is simply the hottest thing known to mankind. A very fun watch and truly a perfect screwball, I think this would be a perfect classic to watch over the holidays. Watch on Criterion.

Watch: I Love LA (2025-)

I am reluctantly recommending this show. It’s a silly commentary/satire/comedy (???) on contemporary LA culture amongst influencers and celebrities. A largely out-of-touch friend group reunites and navigates the social politics of the Los Angeles scene that you wish weren’t actually true. I really do lol at some episodes, whereas others I just blow air out of my nose a little faster than usual. Even the title of the show is giving LA zeitgeist girly pop podcast caring less in the most surgical of ways. For a mainly easy watch, check it out on HBO Max.

Eat: sheep milk yogurt

Yes, I’m buying this because there’s a cute little sheep on it and the name is in the most beautiful cursive font. But I also read that sheep’s milk is easier to digest and has a high amount of protein. Don’t all yogurts? Whatever. This has been a fun purchase and makes me feel like I’m ready to be interviewed for an installment of Into the Fridge. The plain flavor actually goes pretty crazy, but the vanilla is definitively solid. I also love that the tub is a bit smaller than classic tubs of yogurt, which has been great for me over the last few months as I am in and out of the city. Do let me know if you feel influenced to try this.

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