I finally tried the new Dunkin’ Matcha Latte.

I have been waiting since the day it debuted but I’ve been waiting for the right combination of circumstances— for a true moment of desire and need for comfort and, perhaps more importantly, enough points to earn a free drink.

I prefer my matcha iced, because hot it dissolved into the milk and the flavor is too mellow.

And an iced matcha latte is a few scoops of matcha powder in milk with some ice.

And I don’t pay $5 for flavored milk.

Just like I don’t buy $5 cups of coffee.

Today I stopped for a large iced matcha latte at my neighborhood Dunkin, the one we always prefer because they are usually empty so they have a better selection of donuts, but they are empty because even with “order on the go” where you type your exact order, they get the drink wrong.

So I order on the go on the way back to the office from CVS, thinking I’ll use the drink to take my new medicine.

Large iced matcha latte, less ice, skim milk, no whipped cream.

Easy, right?

Apparently not.

When I arrived, they haven’t pulled the slip from the machine. Three employees banter over “who wants to make this.” I’m thinking: step 1, ice. Step 2, powder. Step 3, milk. Give it a swish, swish and done.

One girl obviously loses and must prepare my drink. She starts with a medium cup. I look to confirm that my name is on the cup. It is, but she’s already put the matcha in. So I ask:

Are the sizes for matcha different than coffee? Because that looks like a medium.

Me

It takes two of them to review the sticker, confirm I got a large, and the original person grabs a large cup and starts over.

As I’m thinking it, the other employee beside her points out that she could have poured the old drink into the larger cup and added more matcha and milk.

But now we have a medium iced matcha latte and a large half filled cup of ice and milk.

So the employee gets another large cup, and pours the medium drink into it and adds matcha.

The other employee reminds her to stir it well and I tell her it’s not necessary for me because I like the matcha sludge.

At which point, a supervisor chastises her for doing it wrong.

He insists that he will do it and he starts another one in the blender. I beg the girl to let me have the lumpy one.

The supervisor looks at me like I’m nuts.

Please, I plead, I appreciate your effort to make it nice and smooth but I like the lumps. I don’t like it in the blender.

I got my lumpy latte.

And do you know what—

It tasted just like the Starbucks Matcha!