Do you ever have experiences you’re not sure how you feel about? That’s the fuzzy sort of thinking I have about Türk Kahvesi. I don’t know about you, but I don’t think I’m ever going to stumble out of bed, shouting, “Don’t talk to me until after I’ve had my first sip of Turkish Coffee!” And yet there’s something very intriguing in a Turkish coffee—even if you don’t use the remains to penetrate the ripples in space-time with fortune telling.
Perhaps it’s because the experience is so inconsistent. I’ve tried it sweet, medium sweet and unsweetened. Even there, there’s no clear winner. I might like it medium sweet, or unsweetened. It all depends on who makes it. When I went to Mandabatmaz, the near legendary master in Beyoglu, my orta was just a touch too sweet for my taste. Then there’s judging how much to sip. If it’s a good one, you want to extract every last drop. Then if you’re not careful, you’ll get a gritty mouth, which diminishes the enjoyment a bit. I think what keeps me going is the fact that it’s such a varied experience, much like Istanbul, where you’re not quite sure what’s around the corner, but you’re interested to taste it.