Best Mushroom Add-On
Photograph: Pete Cottell
Om
Master Blend Organic Mushroom Powder
The bulk of Om’s catalog is billed as “dietary supplements,” so its Master Blend is not exactly the kind of thing you’ll want to drink on its own. I tried this for science, of course, and it wasn’t terrible! There’s a vegetal flavor on the sip that tastes like potato water, and the finish has an astringent tingle that’s akin to the tiniest dose of Sichuan peppercorns steeped in hot water.
Om really shines when it’s added to a cup of coffee brewed with beans from the Global South. One teaspoon of this sand-colored dust added a savory pop that smoothed out the brightness of my favorite Colombian Supremo beans from Costco, and the requisite jitters that usually kicked in after three cups of the brew felt mellower than usual with Om mixed in. The silty residue at the bottom of the cup is best avoided, but it won’t harsh your vibe too much on the whole.
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| Score |
5.9/10 |
| Key ingredients |
Lion’s mane, shiitake, turkey tail, himematsutake, antrodia, maitake, king trumpet, cordyceps, reishi |
| Caffeine |
0 milligrams |
Best Option for Incontinence
Photograph: Pete Cottell
Everyday Dose
Mushroom Coffee Starter Kit
Of all the contenders included in this experiment, Everyday Dose feels the most like a wellness influencer pyramid scheme.
One month of this fantastical dust promises better sleep and boosted mood. Two months promises a healthy gut, and three months promises glowing skin and boosted immunity. It’s easy to acquire three months of Everyday Dose because its subscription-only model is damn near impossible to cancel. It’s difficult to drink this daily for even a week, though, but best of luck if a guy with an alpha jawline and yacht full o’ thots in Croatia told you otherwise!
Unlike MUD/WTR (below), which seems to be the closest analog as far as aesthetics and cheekiness go, Everyday Dose boasts a wee bit of caffeine, which is appealing for coffee addicts like yours truly. I first mixed 1 tablespoon of the powder with 8 ounces of hot water and drank it straight up, which yielded an unappetizing liquid that tasted like a mix of Chex Mix and bong water. Some frothed oat milk and a squirt of simple syrup turned out to be the most drinkable form, but I’d be lying if I said I enjoyed any of it. By the end of the week I found myself burning off the slight hit of energy and focus this provided with a 30-minute cardio sesh in my basement followed by five to 10 minutes on the toilet, right on queue every time. People pay money for that type of “regularity,” so I guess that’s something!
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| Score |
5.1/10 |
| Key ingredients |
Lion’s mane, chaga, L-theanine, collagen protein |
| Caffeine |
45 milligrams |
Others Tested
Photograph: Pete Cottell
Lifeboost Mindflow for $40: The flavor of this instant powder is snappy and astringent at first, then it mellows into a warm middle ground after a few sips and a short cooling period. By the middle of the cup I forgot I was drinking something other than coffee, and the mild acidity on the finish–likely a product of the CognatiQ Coffee Fruit Extract that’s lauded on the back of Mindflow’s mylar pouch–tastes similar to a nice cup of Ethiopian or Rwandan coffee if you close your eyes and pretend for just a moment. Regarding its potency, if mushroom supplements were attendees at a state college keg party, Lifeboost would be the unremarkable guy pacing himself in the back while everyone else is getting blitzed like the world is ending. It’s unassuming yet self-assured, patiently waiting for all other entrants to crap out so it can make its move. I copped a mild buzz just a few sips in, and I felt alert and wide-eyed for a good two hours after the silty final sips of the cup were consumed. Electrolytes are uncommon in this space, which means this is a rare entry in the mushroom supplement world that purports to be a good pick if hydration is a trivial concern.
Photograph: Pete Cottell
Four Sigmatic Organic Coffee for $20: Four Sigmatic’s Focus blend is labeled as a dark roast, but it’s missing the cigarette-butts-and-bowling-alley aftertaste that looms on the finish of similar blends. Despite my preference for lighter beans, this hit like a hug from an old friend after weeks of sipping murky silt. The caffeine buzz normalized after two days of using Think in lieu of more standard shroom-based coffee replacements, so I added a three-quarter-teaspoon hit of the powdered Focus blend to my daily cup to see what would happen. Within 10 minutes I felt an overwhelming urge to sort my finances spreadsheet in preparation for tax season, then I set up a new template in Loopy Pro to accommodate a friend who planned to join my basement jam session that evening. He bailed, but I was jacked on Genius Adaptogens so I played all the instruments myself into the wee hours of the night.
North Spore Functional-5 Mushroom Coffee for $18: Most mushroom-infused ground coffee blends are filed under the “Medium Roast” category, which is typically a safe catch-all that grocery store brands and discount purveyors describe their preground product as to avoid pissing off discerning light-roast aficionados such as yours truly. Nine times out of 10 they hit like a dark roast, with an ashy taste and a healthy dose of the oil that seeps out of the beans during the elongated roasting process, shimmering and swirling around the top of your cup like a puddle in a parking lot. This coffee from North Spore, which makes our favorite mushroom-growing monotub and spray-and-grow mushroom kit, lacks all of those off notes while still retaining a sturdy, earth flavor that’s far enough removed from the citric and buttery notes I love most about classic high-end light roasts to stand up as its own unique thing. There’s a hint of mushroom flavor on the swallow if you really look for it, but you could easily swap this in for someone's morning cup of Folgers or Illy medium roast and they’d be none the wiser.
Ryze Superfoods Mushroom Coffee for $65: One could consider two different approaches to how purveyors of mushroom coffee dial in the flavor profile of their product: They can go all in with a bombastic brew filled with spices and overtones, or they can play it safe and concoct the base of a beverage that tastes more like memories of other drinks than a beverage with an identity of its own. The underwhelming flavor of Ryze falls in the latter camp. In fairness, there are plenty of folks who have no interest in savoring their morning beverage and instead need to put the liquid inside them as fast as possible so they can “adult” that day. Twenty-one-year-old Pete thought people who claimed to enjoy espresso were insane, yet here I am, two decades later wishing I could sip bitter bean water instead of this sour cup of forgettable swill that curdled the whole milk I tried to cut it with. A week with Ryze did little to boost my mood, focus, or energy. It mostly made me cranky and sad.
Cuppa for $30: Like the friendly foreigner who calls his daily cup of tea or coffee his “cuppa,” this newcomer is polite, congenial, and inoffensive. The first sip brought to mind a really good cup of coffee at a nameless diner, with a light body and very mellow acidic notes on the swallow. The small dose of ruddy powder pulled from the bag with the included plastic scoop dissolved thoroughly with a few stirs, and the pristine lack of sediment in the cup was exactly as advertised. The boost of energy is also unassuming and easy to relegate to the background, which could be a welcome respite from the blast of caffeine many coffee addicts think they need right when they wake up every morning. After a week with Cuppa I started to enjoy easing into my daily brain vibrations rather than white-knuckling it off the rip at 7 am on the dot every morning.
Not Recommended
Photograph: Pete Cottell
MUD/WTR Original Blend for $51: The packaging of MUD/WTR isn’t quite as unhinged as a bottle of Dr. Bronner's, but it’s definitely in the same realm. The spicy dust inside the can is a maximalist circus of weirdness as well, with herbaceous stalwarts like turmeric and masala chai holding it down alongside the usual shroom suspects. It took me a few days to realize that properly emulsifying this ruddy power per the suggested instructions—1 tablespoon with ¾ cup of water, battered thoroughly with the included handheld immersion blender—is an impossible task, so I started experimenting with supplemental ingredients in hopes that some blend of milk, fat, and sugar would minimize the gritty aftertaste that overwhelms the palate. I landed on 1 tablespoon of simple syrup and 4 ounces of whole milk frothed in my trusty Subminimal NanoFoamer Pro. The final result hits somewhere between a chai latte and the kind of hot cocoa you’d order at a coffee shop with boring ’90s music, mean baristas, and a dirty bin full of stale vegan + gluten-free snacks next to the register. I didn’t hate it, but the bottom quarter of the cup is an undrinkable gunky mess. And don’t get me started on the chunky brown lacing that clings to the edge of the cup. The physical and mental effects of MUD/WTR felt more like a facsimile of a boost than a visceral kick in the pants, but a placebo high is better than nothing, right? Combine that with the amount of adjunct ingredients required to make this drinkable and I ended up with a beverage I would only drink every now and then as a treat on a chilly day rather than a daily sipper I can rely on for increased focus, energy, virility, and the million other things this product promises within the wall of text that adorns its packaging.
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