I don’t know if Williamsburg “men” are aware of this, but matcha is actually just green tea. Granted it’s “finely milled” green tea, but green tea all the same. However, one supposes the ceremonial fanfare surrounding matcha is part of the appeal for the dickless “man.” After all, those missing a dick relish a smoke and mirrors approach to life in order to distract from their absent genitalia. And creating or consuming matcha is nothing if not an exercise in dissemblance.
When phrases like “location on the tea bush” and “stone grinding” are used in reference to non-sexual endeavors, one tends to wonder at the interests of a “man” obsessed with obtaining matcha from the only location where you can get it in this town, MatchaBar. If you ask me, a dickful “man” would pick up some fuckin’ Earl Grey from the Duane Reade on Bedford and call it a night. After all, we’re no longer in the Tang Dynasty era, when matcha first came into being. This is the Wang(less) Dynasty.