To know Sarajevo, you must understand the importance of coffee. Making traditional kafa (coffee) — introduced here soon after the Ottoman Empire conquered the Kingdom of Bosnia in 1463 — is a process. Grounds are roasted in a dzezva (JEHZ-vah) before adding boiling water. When the froth foams to the top, the rich brew is poured into a small, handleless china cup known as a fildzan (FILL-john), which sits in a copper sheath, or zarf. The world grinds to a halt. Cigarettes are lit. Conversations take hushed tones.
The ritual that is Bosanska (Bosnian) kafa is lost on many tourists as they navigate the beehive of trinket-peddling hawkers in the cobblestone alleys of Bascarsija, the Ottoman Quarter. But a trained ear can make out craftsmen coaxing copper into vessels used for preparing and drinking Sarajevo’s beloved beverage.
On Kazandziluk (or coppersmith’s) Street, across from Sebilj, find the wooden fountain in Bascarsija’s main square. Midway down the narrow flagstone avenue, Muhamed Husejnovic sits in his shop, Kazandzijska Radnja (Kazandziluk 18), hammer-pinging coffee sets (around 50 Bosnian convertible marks, or KM, $34 at 1.46 KM to the dollar), as Bosnians have done for 500 years.
“This work is not respected like it once was,” said Mr. Husejnovic, whose family business goes back more than 200 years. “For every 100 cheap coffee sets sold in Bascarsija, I sell one.”
Walk north, across the square, to another tiny atelier, Manufaktura (Kovaci 28), where the owner and coppersmith Abdulah Hadzic treats visitors to impromptu master classes, explaining how he turns his dzezvas (30 to 80 KM) into functional art. Some are filled with molten lead so Mr. Hadzic can hammer dimples and floral swirls onto their exteriors without compromising their shapes. He removes the lead and sanitizes the dzezva before applying a stove-ready tin lining. For others, he’ll apply a coat of tin outside and in, and engrave through to the underlayer of copper in geometric patterns. “There is no end to this work,” said Mr. Hadzic as he chiseled away.
Purchase in hand, make your way to Cajdzinica Dzirlo (Kovaci 16; 387-61-159-965), a cafe that serves kafa (3 KM) the old way, in individual-size dzezvas. Then, on a terrace overlooking Bascarsija, fill your fildzan, and heed the words of Diana Dzirlo, the cafe’s owner: “A coffee must take at least half an hour just to sit and enjoy.”
by Alex Crevar
NT
