This Is Your Mind on Plants

by Michael Pollan

Voltaire was a fervent advocate for coffee, and supposedly drank as many as seventy-two cups a day. Coffee, and coffeehouses, fueled heroic labors in Enlightenment writers. Denis Diderot compiled his magnum opus while imbibing caffeine at the Café de Procope. It’s safe to say the Encyclopédie would never have gotten finished in a tavern. Honoré de Balzac was convinced his vast literary output, as well as the operations of his imagination, depended on heroic doses of coffee, consumed through the night as he chronicled the human comedy in his innumerable novels. Eventually, he developed such a tolerance for caffeine that he dispensed altogether with the diluting effects of water, developing his own unique method of administering the drug dry: I have discovered a horrible, rather brutal method that I recommend only to men of excessive vigor. It is a question of using finely pulverized, dense coffee, cold and anhydrous, consumed on an empty stomach. This coffee falls into your stomach, a sack whose velvety interior is lined with tapestries of suckers and papillae. The coffee finds nothing else in the sack, and so it attacks these delicate and voluptuous linings . . . sparks shoot all the way up to the brain.