I didn’t have a Turkish coffee while I was in Istanbul; the timing just didn’t work out.
Instead, I wait to come to Georgia to order one, and only after walking through the better part of Old Town Tbilisi before I even find a cafe, though I have since found several others, including a Dunkin Donuts.
I ask the young barman for a Turkish coffee, say no to added sugar, and yes to a pastry that looks like it has meat in it, but which turns out to be very sweet.
The barman spoons finely ground coffee directly into a copper cezve, which must already have had a bit of water in it, and then heats it in hot sand until it has a slight foam on it.
Then he pours the coffee into one of two silver cups, adding only water to the other cup.
He then adds a few Turkish delights to the centre of the silver plate.
I take a seat inside the cafe, which is quite plain, because all of the seats on the more-interesting outdoor patio, the ones up against the King Erekle’s Bath, are taken.
I finish my pastry and then look around the cafe, but no one is drinking coffee.
They are all drinking tea or smoothies.
I admit that I’m not sure how to drink the Turkish coffee; for instance, I’m not sure of the purpose of the second cup that is only filled with water.
Is it meant to dilute the coffee?
I take a sip of the coffee, which tastes excellent, although very strong.
I pour some water into the cup to dilute the coffee, then look around the room to see if anyone is aghast at my maneuver.
No one is looking alarmed.
I finish the coffee, continuing to dilute the coffee, until the last sip, which is full of coffee grounds.
I chew on them, suspecting that this is not the correct procedure for the Turkish coffee experience.
I manage to avoid grimacing by eating the remaining Turkish delights.
Later, I learn that the water is served to give the customer something to drink while the coffee grounds are settling, and that one does not, in fact, take the last sip with the coffee grounds.
Travel is always a learning experience.
