A cup of tea with Michael Pollan

Last night at the Unity Temple, Rainy Day Books owner Vivien Jennings introduced Michael Pollan as “the rock star of the food world.” But looking up from my computer in the lobby of the Intercontinental Hotel just an hour earlier, the gardening essayist-turned-investigative journalist looked like some sort of spiritual guru.

The shaved head. The untucked, long-sleeved white shirt draping his lanky frame. The way he ordered a hot tea with one packet of sugar on the side, instead of a cocktail, in the hotel’s gold-and-leather bar.

But it turns out Michael Pollan doesn’t have a pretentious or preachy bone in his body. He doesn’t want to be your dietary guru or take the reins of a national movement to reclaim our food system.

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