8 Best Peppermint Teas of 2026

Six boxes, twenty bags each, and not a string, tag or staple among them. Celestial Seasonings’ bags go straight into the mug and come out with a spoon, which is the trade you make for a box that skips most of the packaging. The leaf is Oregon and Washington peppermint, and the carton is recycled paperboard.

This is the box we hand a household that goes through a pot a day. Of the two 120-bag picks here it is the bolder cup — rounder and more mint-forward than the foil-wrapped Bigelow bags, closer to the peppermint you remember from a diner mug. Celestial also asks for a longer steep than most, four to six minutes, and the extra time is worth it: the cup fills out instead of thinning.

The bags live loose in the box, so once you open one, the other nineteen are breathing cupboard air. We move a box at a time into a tin or a zip bag, which also keeps the whole carton from smelling like the inside of a cabinet. That is the only part of the design we would change.

Bigelow wraps every bag in its own foil pouch, and when you are buying 120 at a time that small square of foil is the difference between the last box tasting like the first and tasting like cardboard. Six boxes of twenty, peppermint only, gluten-free and kosher — and, per cup, the least expensive bagged tea here.

It is also the mildest of the big boxes, which we first read as a weakness and now treat as the reason to own it. No sharp edge, no bitterness if the bag sits too long, and a clean mint that survives being poured over a glass of ice. On a hot afternoon we brew two bags into a quart and leave it in the fridge; it never turns harsh the way a bolder leaf can.

If you want a cup that announces itself, this is not it. The flavor is present and naturally sweet, but it never punches. As an all-day, all-summer box for a family, though, it is the one we refill.

Sixteen bags, certified organic and non-GMO, in a box small enough to live on the shelf next to the kettle. Traditional Medicinals built its peppermint around the after-dinner cup, and whatever you make of the label’s talk about settling digestion, the tea itself is a soft, clean peppermint rather than a blast of menthol.

That softness is the point. Where the big-box teas push the mint forward, this one stays gentle: present enough that you know what you are drinking, mild enough that a second cup after dinner does not taste like toothpaste. We found it the easiest of the bunch to drink without reaching for sugar.

The arithmetic works against it if peppermint is a daily habit. Sixteen bags disappear inside two weeks, and the per-cup cost sits above the hundred-count boxes. Buy it for the certification and the gentler cup, and keep a big box alongside it for the everyday mugs.

The tin arrives before the tea does — a squat four-inch cube with the Royal Palaces artwork on it, and thirty sachets inside. Harney & Sons makes the leaf from Washington State peppermint, and the sachets are roomy enough that the leaf has space to move rather than sitting in a compacted lump.

One sachet brews a full twelve-ounce cup, or two smaller ones if you like it lighter, which makes this the most forgiving format here for a big mug. The cup is crisp and aromatic, and the scent rolls out every time the lid comes off; we have had guests ask what was brewing before the water went in.

You pay for the tin and the sachet both. Per cup this is among the most expensive picks here, and it is not the box to buy if you are drinking three mugs a day. As a gift, or as the tin you keep on the counter for visitors, it earns the money in a way the plain cartons do not.

A pound of peppermint arrives in a flat, oversized bag that takes up real shelf space. Frontier’s leaf is cut and sifted — pieces rather than powder, with no sticks — and it is packed as a single bulk bag, which is the first thing to plan for: it does not reseal.

You need an infuser, a basket, or a teapot with a strainer. What you get for that bit of equipment is the most tea by weight on this list and a cup as strong as you care to make it: four minutes for a bright mug, longer for something that will stand up to honey. It is also the pick for blending, where half peppermint and half spearmint beats either alone.

Iced tea is where it earns its shelf space. A handful of leaf into a quart of hot water, ten minutes, then into the fridge, and you have pitcher tea for the summer without opening a single bag.

The trade is storage and patience. Decant it into jars the day it arrives, keep them out of the light, and it holds its punch for months; leave it in the open bag in a cupboard and you will be drinking dusty tea by winter. For anyone who already owns a strainer, nothing here is close on value.

teapigs’ temples are the size of a small pillow next to a standard bag, and you can see what is inside them: whole leaves, not the dust that settles at the bottom of a cheap box. Fifty temples, one per cup, and enough room for the leaf to unfurl as it steeps.

The cup that comes out is the cleanest we brewed — no papery edge, no aftertaste, just a rounded peppermint that is as good cold as hot. Brew it strong and pour it over ice and it does not thin out the way a dust-filled bag does.

All of that costs. Per cup this is the most expensive tea here, and the temples are the reason. Whether it is worth it depends on whether you taste the difference between whole leaf and fannings; some people genuinely do not, and if you are one of them the big boxes are the smarter buy.

One more thing worth knowing: the temples are sold as biodegradable, but a home compost heap is a much slower test than an industrial facility, and they can still be sitting there months later. Buy the tea for the cup, not for the compost.

A hundred tagged bags in one box, and the tag is the reason to choose this over the stringless boxes: you lift the bag out by the string instead of chasing it around the mug with a spoon. Stash uses Pacific Northwest peppermint, the company is a certified B Corp, and the mint comes through strong and clean.

Strength is where this one varies most. One bag in a standard mug gives a firm, bright cup; in a big mug, or if you like your peppermint assertive, two bags is where it lands. We prefer that flexibility to a bag packed so tight it goes bitter before you finish the mug.

The strings are stapled to the bag, and the staple is the weak point: a string can come away while the bag is steeping, so lift by the tag rather than pulling hard. Against Celestial’s 120 stringless bags this costs more per cup and gives you ten fewer; the tag and the bolder leaf are what you are paying for.