Turkish Coffee Enjoy!

My first Turkish coffee arrived dark and steaming hot from an electric coffeemaker at Espressolab on Istanbul’s historic Istiklal Avenue. The Espressolab had a long, curved marble bar, high ceiling beams and an Art Deco espresso machine. The 20 and 30-somethings around me chatted and sipped their cappuccinos and pumpkin spice lattes from paper cups with plastic lids.

Aside from the cloud of smoke in the air, the 2 a.m. closing time and the stray dog slumbering undisturbed near the entrance, this dramatic space, one of more than 300 Espressolab locations across Turkey, would be right at home in any U.S. city – if North American cities were familiar with the delights of Turkish coffee.

“Turkish coffee is special because it is prepared using the world’s oldest brewing method and drunk with the grounds,” says Eray Yigit, the chain’s international district manager based in Istanbul.

“Although today we cook it in an automatic machine, we can still enjoy it the way it has been brewed for centuries, in a copper pot over a charcoal fire,” said Yigit. “It is one of the most iconic symbols of our culture and a drink that people of all ages consume any time of day – with love.”

Turkey doesn’t grow coffee beans. As legend has it, coffee was discovered in Ethiopia and spread to Yemen in the early 1500s, where traders scooped up sacks of beans and brought them to the port of Constantinople, the capital of the Ottoman Empire. Turks are credited with devising the unique method of roasting, grinding and cooking the kahve beans with water that helped spread the love of coffee throughout the Empire, into Europe and around the world.

Sultans quickly adopted the new drink and devised exquisite cups, coffee pots and ceremonies to enjoy it in their posh palaces. Coffee houses for ordinary folk soon followed.

Spoils of War

In 1683, an army led by Ottoman Emperor Mehmet IV besieged the city of Vienna for two months before beating a miserable retreat. An agent named Kolschitzky found 500 sacks of coffee beans the soldiers had left behind. Since he’d traveled to Ottoman lands, he knew just how to prepare them. The grateful Viennese opened their first of many coffee houses in 1683. Whether or not the agent was involved, his statue still stands on Vienna’s Kolschitzkygasse.

To honor this ancient drink, UNESCO added Turkish Coffee to its Representative List of the UNESCO Intangible Cultural Heritage in 2013. The official announcement waxes enthusiastic about its role in Turkish culture; sparking intimate conversations in coffee shops, celebrating new friendships, sealing business deals and even revealing future events by gazing deeply into the fudge-like layer of grounds left in the bottom of the cup.

Sip Slowly

Coffee’s perceived ability to foretell the future can be a bit off-putting for the foreign visitor just out for a quick cuppa. But sharing an espresso with a Turk able to sense what the Arabica grounds are trying to say can be as important as experiencing the grandeur of Istanbul’s Hagia Sophia, wandering the grounds of the Topkapi Palace or crossing the Bosphorus Strait on a 15-minute ferry ride that transports you from Europe to Asia.

A walk down busy Istiklal from Taksim Square, dodging the nostalgic tram, should also be on your must-do list. Among the street vendors roasting chestnuts, shops selling traditional musical instruments and trendy clothing shops like Mango from Spain, you’ll find the modern Ataturk Cultural Center, with its igloo-like foyer of beet-red mosaic tiles. Further south is the Church of St. Anthony of Padua, built by the city’s Italian community in 1906 and a surprise in this city of minarets.

Tucked into a nearby alley is Mandabatmaz. This simple café, with two rows of low tables and stools protected from the elements, has specialized in Turkish coffee since 1967. The water buffalo on its logo, “manda” in Turkish, warns regulars to expect foam so thick even a buffalo won’t sink into it. If the kitchen isn’t too busy, pop inside to watch the barista at work in a space barely 3 feet square. Into a long-handled copper pot, the cezve, shaped by hand in one of Turkey’s many traditional bazaars, he mixed water from a samovar with sugar if requested (order a little sugar, medium sugar or sweet) and a few teaspoons of Brazilian beans ground to a fine powder.

Kahve 101

The barista placed the pot over a gas burner until the foam began to rise. Before it spilled over, he poured a little hot coffee and foam into small ceramic cups then placed the cezve back on the burner for another minute or two until the foam rose again. He filled the cups to the brim and a server brought them to our table accompanied by a wobbly plastic box of water. Turkish coffee is often served with a chewy cube of Turkish Delight (lukum) flavored with rosewater or studded with home-grown pistachios. Sweet baklava layered with nuts is equally beloved. Istanbul’s dessert shops may be as plentiful as their coffee shops.

For the best experience, let the boiling-hot coffee sit for a minute or so to let the grounds settle while you prime your palate with a little water. Hint: Do not drink all the water.  Now take your first sips of coffee, admiring the foam and savoring the coffee’s deep, some say chocolatey flavor and velvety texture. The more slowly you sip, while keeping a close eye on the bottom of your cup, the more likely you are to stop drinking just as the liquid disappears and your mouth suddenly feels like a construction site. Quick, grab that water!

Locals, of course, don’t have this problem as years of practice have taught them the precise moment to stop drinking while carrying on a conversation.

Finding Fortune

Turks young and old appear versed in “Fal bakma,” the art of Turkish fortune-telling with spent coffee grounds, a ritual traced back 500 years to the harem of Sultan Suleiman.

Ozgur Ayturk, co-ordinator of the government’s promotion directorate in the Turkish capital of Ankara, says most families have one person, in his case his mother, talented in predicting the future.

To demonstrate, he instructed me to drink all the liquid in my cup as the grounds must be fairly dry, then turn it upside down over the saucer and leave it to release most of the grounds.  “At this point,” said Ayturk, “you circle the cup and saucer three times in front of you or over your head while chanting: “Whatever is in my future let it be seen here.”  A metal ring placed on the overturned cup is said to speed the cooling process.

The key to reading the grounds stuck to the sides of the cup or in the saucer is to find familiar shapes. “You may see roses, birds or someone praying,” he said. A double line means a journey, a fish means something good is about to happen and a bird signifies good news.

Today, millions of young Turks who may live far from their families have subscribed to a fortune-telling app called Faladdin created by a local entrepreneur. Send a photo of your coffee grounds and receive an AI-generated reading.

The following week, as I wandered through the Disneyland of shops at Istanbul’s international airport, past Italian cafés pouring 9-euro lattes, I was startled to find a circular kiosk called Coffee In the Sand. It was manned by a young woman surrounded by a selection of stainless steel pots and ceramic cups. The counter had been replaced by sand heated from beneath, a 500-year-old method that involves plunging the cezve into the sand and moving it around to cook the coffee. Though rarely seen today it promises an even richer brew with more foam.

My well-caffeinated tour of Turkish history had come full circle.

 

Cynthia David is a freelance food and travel journalist based in Toronto. She has been published in leading Canadian newspapers and magazines including Dreamscapes, The Globe and Mail, Toronto Star and Food & Drink.