The Devil’s Drink & The Tsar’s Decree: The Untold History of Coffee in the Russian Empire

 When we imagine the Russian Empire, the sensory landscape is almost always dominated by one beverage: tea. We picture the steaming samovar hissing on a merchant’s table, the delicate porcelain filled with dark tea and a slice of lemon, and the cozy warmth of a dacha in winter.

But lurking in the shadows of this tea-soaked history is another story—darker, more volatile, and undeniably more rebellious. It is the story of coffee in the Russian Empire.

From being branded "Satan’s Drink" by religious zealots to becoming the preferred fuel of Russia's greatest literary minds, coffee had a delayed but dramatic adoption in the land of the Tsars. It didn't just arrive in Russia; it was forced upon it by imperial decree, fought over by soldiers, and reinvented by aristocrats.

Today, we are pouring a cup of history to explore how a tropical bean conquered the frozen North. This is the fascinating chronicle of the history of coffee in Russia.

The "Bitter Syrup": A Violent Introduction (1665–1725)

In most of Europe, coffee spread through trade and public enthusiasm. In Russia, it was prescribed by a doctor and then enforced by a Tsar.

The first recorded mention of coffee in Russia dates back to 1665, during the reign of Tsar Alexis Mikhailovich. It wasn't served with cake in a salon; it was prescribed by court physician Samuel Collins as a remedy for "bloating, headaches, and runny nose." It was a bitter medicine, swallowed reluctantly and forgotten quickly.

But the true revolution arrived with Peter the Great.

Peter, the towering, restless Tsar who dragged Russia into the modern era by its beard, fell in love with coffee during his travels in Holland. He saw the beverage not just as a drink, but as a symbol of Western sophistication, alertness, and modernity—everything Old Russia was not.

When he returned, he didn't just suggest people drink it; he demanded it.

The "Satan's Drink" Resistance

You have to understand the cultural shock. To the conservative Old Believers and the boyars (nobility), this black, bitter sludge was suspicious. They called it "syrup" or "soot-water." Religious leaders famously branded it "Satan's Drink," claiming that while tea was a gift from God, coffee was a trap for the soul.

A popular proverb of the time whispered: "Tea is cursed at three councils, but coffee at seven."

Peter didn't care. At his famous Assemblies—mandatory social gatherings for the elite—coffee was served alongside vodka. Guests were expected to drink it with a smile, or face the Tsar's notorious wrath. It was Westernization by force, one cup at a time.

The Imperial Addiction: Catherine the Great’s 400-Gram Habit

If Peter the Great introduced coffee, Catherine the Great turned it into an extreme sport.

By the mid-18th century, the "Satan's Drink" stigma had faded among the aristocracy. Coffee had become a status symbol, a way to signal that you were cultured, European, and wealthy. But no one loved it quite like Empress Catherine II.

Historical accounts suggest that Catherine’s morning coffee was terrifyingly strong. Her cooks reportedly used 400 grams (nearly a pound) of ground coffee to brew just five cups of beverage.

To put that in perspective:

• Modern Espresso: ~18 grams of coffee.
• Catherine’s Cup: ~80 grams of coffee.

The resulting sludge was so potent that it allegedly caused heart palpitations in uninitiated guests. One famous anecdote tells of her secretary, Kozmin, who was offered a leftover cup of the Empress’s brew. After a few sips, he had to be carried out of the room because the sheer caffeine shock nearly gave him a heart attack.

Catherine would often enjoy this "rocket fuel" with a side of sweet almond croutons, establishing the Russian tradition of pairing the bitterness of coffee with intense sweetness.

War and "Kava": How Soldiers Brought Coffee to the Masses

While the Tsars were sipping concentrated caffeine in St. Petersburg, the average Russian remained loyal to kvass and tea. Coffee was simply too expensive, imported through long, costly trade routes from Europe.

That changed in 1812.

During the Napoleonic Wars, as the Russian army marched across Europe and eventually into Paris, thousands of Russian soldiers were exposed to European café culture. They saw French and Austrian soldiers drinking "kava" (coffee) not as a medicine, but as a daily pleasure.

Simultaneously, Cossack regiments fighting in the south against the Ottoman Empire were capturing sacks of coffee beans as war booty. They developed their own rugged brewing methods, boiling the beans in cauldrons over open fires, sometimes adding heavy cream or spices to mask the bitterness of the rough roast.

When these soldiers returned home, they brought the habit with them. Suddenly, coffee wasn't just for the court of St. Petersburg; it was a drink of the veteran, the traveler, and the hero.

Distinctive Russian Coffee Traditions

Because Russia adopted coffee later than the rest of Europe, and because it sat at the crossroads of East and West, it developed a coffee culture that was entirely unique. It wasn't quite Turkish, and it wasn't quite French. It was distinctly Russian.

1. The Coffee Samovar

This is perhaps the most unique artifact of Russian coffee history. We all know the tea samovar, but by the 1820s, Tula metalworkers were producing specialized coffee samovars.

Unlike the round, bulbous tea versions, coffee samovars were often cylindrical or flat-sided. Inside, they had a special frame to hang a bag of ground coffee beans directly into the boiling water, or they were divided into two compartments: one for coffee, one for tea.

Possessing a coffee samovar was the ultimate sign of a progressive, wealthy household.

2. "Kofiy" with Lemon

You might know "Russian Tea" as tea with lemon. But did you know this habit migrated to coffee?

Because the coffee imported to Russia in the 19th century was often stale or harsh (having traveled months by sea or land), Russians began adding a slice of fresh lemon to their cup. The acidity helped cut the bitterness and mask the stale flavor notes.

In the West, this is sometimes called "Czar Nicholas II Coffee" (often with a shot of cognac and sugar), but the simple addition of citrus remains a quirky, historical Russian preference that persists in some older generations today.

3. Fortune Telling

In the 19th-century salons of Moscow and St. Petersburg, drinking the coffee was only half the fun. The other half was reading the grounds.

Coffee fortune telling became a massive craze among the nobility. It was so popular that printed manuals were sold explaining how to interpret the shapes left at the bottom of the cup. A "coffee woman" (a professional fortune teller) was a staple guest at many high-society balls, whispering secrets of love and betrayal to young countesses based on the sediment in their porcelain cups.

The Intellectual’s Fuel: Literary Cafés

By the 1830s, coffee had found its true spiritual home in Russia: the Literary Café.

While tea was the drink of the family and the home, coffee became the drink of the public intellectual. St. Petersburg’s Café Chinois and the famous Wolf and Béranger Confectionery (now known simply as the Literary Café) became the headquarters for Russia's Golden Age of Literature.

It was here that Alexander Pushkin, the father of Russian literature, drank his last beverage—a glass of lemonade, though he was a known coffee drinker—before heading to his fatal duel. Fyodor Dostoevsky was also a regular, often drinking coffee to fuel his frantic, debt-ridden writing sessions.

In these smoke-filled rooms, amidst the clatter of cups, the Russian intelligentsia plotted revolutions, wrote masterpieces, and debated the future of the Empire. Coffee was the fuel of dissent.

The Soviet Silence and the Modern Rebirth

With the fall of the Romanovs in 1917, the "aristocratic" culture of coffee took a hit. The Soviet Union prioritized industrialization over importing luxury beans. For decades, coffee became a scarcity, often replaced by chicory or barley substitutes. Real coffee was a luxury item, often hard to find and of poor quality.

However, the story didn't end there. In the late 1990s, post-Soviet Russia birthed a new invention that is now famous globally: Raf Coffee.

Invented in a Moscow coffee shop for a regular customer named Rafael, this drink—steamed cream, espresso, and vanilla sugar all whipped together—is the modern descendant of that Imperial desire for richness and sweetness.

A Cup of Contradiction

The history of coffee in the Russian Empire is a mirror of Russia itself: it came from the West, was resisted by the conservatives, embraced by the radicals, and eventually adapted into something uniquely its own.

From Catherine’s heart-stopping brew to the Cossack’s campfire boil, coffee was never just a drink. It was a statement. It said: I am modern. I am awake. I am ready for what comes next.

So, the next time you brew your morning cup, try adding a slice of lemon or a spoonful of heavy cream. You might just taste a whisper of the winter palaces and the revolutionary spirit of the Russian Empire.

Do you have a unique family way of drinking coffee?

Some historical records mention adding vodka, honey, or even peppercorns! Let me know in the comments below if you’ve ever tried "Russian style" coffee.