When Coffee Ran Out: Finland’s History with 'Chaga'

Finland drinks more coffee than any other country in the world. Not by a small margin either, on average, Finns consume around 12 kilograms of coffee per person each year. It’s usually light-roasted, brewed with a drip filter or percolator, and served black or with milk. There’s nothing fancy about it. It’s just part of the routine. Morning, mid-morning, after lunch, afternoon, after

dinner: it’s the backdrop to most conversations, workdays, and social visits.

So it’s hard to picture a time when coffee wasn’t available in Finland. But during World War II, that’s exactly what happened. With imports disrupted and rationing in full force, real coffee became nearly impossible to get. The government issued coffee coupons, but there was nothing behind the counter. People still kept their coffee pots on the stove, only now they were filled with makeshift brews: roasted barley, rye, chicory, beetroot... and chaga.

Chaga: The Birch Tree Fungus

Chaga (Inonotus obliquus) is a type of fungus that grows almost exclusively on birch trees in cold climates. In Finland, it’s called pakurikääpä. It looks like a burnt, cracked lump on the side of a tree, rough and black on the outside, with a soft, rust-coloured core.

Traditionally, chaga was dried, broken into chunks, and simmered for hours to make a

dark, earthy drink. It doesn’t taste like coffee exactly, but it has some similar qualities: bitterness, depth, colour. During the war, those qualities were enough. People drank it because they had no choice. But in parts of Finland, chaga had already been in use long before the war, not as a coffee substitute, but as a folk remedy.

Folk Use Before the War

In eastern Finland, and in other parts of the boreal north, chaga was used in 'kansanparannus', a form of traditional healing that combined practical knowledge with plant based remedies. Chaga was used for stomach issues, infections, and general fatigue. It wasn’t seen as a miracle cure, just one of many things people turned to when formal healthcare was far away or unavailable.

Most of this knowledge was passed down orally. There weren’t written instructions or health claims. People simply did what worked, or what had been done before. If your grandmother brewed chaga when someone had a persistent cough or gut pain, that’s what you kept doing.

My Own Connection to Mushrooms

It sounds odd to say out loud, but I’ve always had an interest in mushrooms, not just as ingredients, but as living things. There’s something about them that’s quiet and steady. At both my Southern Highlands properties, we’re lucky to have pine forests with the right conditions for wild mushrooms. Every autumn, we have saffron milk caps galore. Kilograms and kilograms of them. They are everywhere. At

one of my properties, I also find slippery jacks, especially after a good bit of rain.

Troy’s from northwest Tasmania, which is full of damp, cool pineforests, perfect mushroom territory. When we visit from Autumn through to Winter- even a cheeky look in Spring, we are scanning the ground pinetrees. We sometimes joke about becoming mushroom farmers. But it’s only

half a joke.

I don’t drink coffee, I never have. So my hot drink habits look a bit different. In the cooler months I make a blend with chaga, reishi, and lion’s mane. It feels good sitting down with something warm that came from a tree, or the ground. It feels honest. And familiar.

Chaga Today: Back, but Different

These days, chaga is back in use, but in a completely different way. You’ll find it in capsules, powders, tinctures, and teas. It’s sold online and in health stores, usually marketed with bold claims: high in antioxidants, immune boosting, anti-inflammatory, adaptogenic.

It’s a far cry from how it was used historically. In Finland, chaga wasn’t about “biohacking” or wellness trends. It was just part of the toolkit, something that grew nearby and had a reputation for helping when you were worn out or unwell.

Foraging for chaga is legal in Finland thanks to 'jokamiehenoikeudet', the “Everyman’s Right,” which allows people to gather mushrooms and other wild foods on public and private land (within reason). But it grows slowly and can take years to develop properly, so sustainable harvesting matters.

A Forgotten Habit Worth Remembering

Chaga was a practical solution when coffee wasn’t available, and before that, it was a quiet part of Finnish folk life. It wasn’t sacred or fashionable, it was just something that worked. And in a culture that often doesn’t shout about its traditions, that seems fitting.

These days, we don't rely on chaga like our ancestors did. But there’s something about drinking the same fungus they once simmered on wood stoves that makes me feel connected, to them, to the land, and to a way of doing things that wasn’t about convenience, but about knowing your environment and using what it gave you.