To call Turkish coffee “just a drink” would be belittling. It is a ritual, a conversation, and, as probably the forerunner of all modern coffees, an almost 500-year-old part of history, which UNESCO has inscribed on its list of the intangible cultural heritage of humanity.
The roots of coffee go even further back in history. Lani Kingston, associate professor at Portland State University, says that at an archaeological site in the United Arab Emirates (UAE), a coffee bean was found dating from the 12th century. By 1350, coffee serving utensils had appeared in Turkey, Egypt, and Persia.
The story of Turkish coffee does not begin in Turkey, but in Yemen. In the 15th century, Sufi mystics allegedly consumed it to stay awake during long nights of prayer and devotion. When Sultan Suleiman, known in Europe as Suleiman the Magnificent, conquered Yemen in 1538, coffee arrived in the Ottoman Empire. Within a year, the beans reached Constantinople – the ancient city now called Istanbul.
In 1539, Ottoman admiral Hayreddin Barbarossa registered a property that included a kahve odasi or coffee room, according to Cemal Kafadar, a Harvard professor and author of an academic paper on coffee: “As dark as the past of night is, as black as the story of coffee is, as bitter as the story of love is: The changing measure of leisure and pleasure in early modern Istanbul.”
By the 1550s, the first kahvehane or coffeehouses appeared in Istanbul, recorded by historian Ibrahim Pecevi in his book The History of Pecevi. The new popularity of this drink quickly transformed cultural life. The Ottoman method of preparation – cezve-ibrik – shared with Greece and rooted in Ethiopia, became the hallmark of traditional Turkish coffee. As gastronomy researcher Merin Sever explains, the fundamental difference between Turkish coffee and other coffees is that cezve-ibrik is essentially cooking; it is not boiled, but “cooked” in water like soup, producing an unfiltered beverage.
Coffeehouses provoked controversy. Religious scholars and political leaders across Asia and Europe considered them places of subversive activity and idle chatter. The governor of Mecca, Hayir Bey, banned coffee in the city in 1511, an edict that lasted 13 years, out of concern that it could lead to radical ideas. Ottoman sultans repeatedly closed coffeehouses out of similar fears. However, they never completely disappeared. Even in 17th-century England, Charles II tried to shut them down, suspecting that “anti-royalist uprisings and treasonous conversations” were taking place “in those coffeehouses,” says London tour guide Chris MacNeil.
Reading from coffee grounds
Turkish coffee is “more than a drink,” says Seden Dogan, teaching associate professor at the University of South Florida, originally from Safranbolu in northern Turkey. Dogan calls it a “bridge” that facilitates sharing in both sorrow and joy.
Today, coffee is the unofficial drink for catching up in Turkey. As in many countries, when two friends who have been apart for some time want to talk, they say: “Let’s go for coffee.” In Turkey, that means something more specific: “Come over and I’ll make you a cup of Turkish coffee.”
The ritual of preparation is precise and meticulous, involving a small pot with a long handle called a cezve, placed on a fire, preferably hot coals or sand. The finest ground coffee is cooked slowly to release a rich flavor and produce a beautiful top layer of foam, considered a mark of quality.
Real Turkish coffee must be served hot with intact foam, alongside a glass of water and a piece of lokum or Turkish delight. The water cleanses the palate, while the lokum balances the bitterness of the drink.
Coffee etiquette is equally important. Although served in small cups, it should be drunk calmly and slowly, not too quickly like espresso. This gives the ground coffee time to settle and stay at the bottom of the cup.
When the cup is emptied, it is time for the ritual of tasseography, or fortune-telling from the coffee cup. The cup is turned upside down on the saucer, left to cool, and then the shapes and symbols seen in the remaining grounds are “read” for meaning. Mostly they are improvised, but a fish usually means luck; a bird indicates a journey.
Although fortune-telling is generally not recommended in Islamic culture, reading from a coffee cup is considered a “playful, symbolic interpretation” and a “shared ritual,” says Kylie Holmes, author of The Ancient Art of Tasseography.
Dogan agrees: “We do it for fun.” Tasseography is an act of storytelling; Dogan says she often spends an hour reading, weaving narratives, and focusing on positive outcomes because people “enjoy hearing good things about themselves.”
Turkish coffee-drinking rituals also find their place in other national traditions. During courtship, the future bride prepares and serves Turkish coffee to the groom and his family. As a test of his character, she adds a generous amount of salt to the groom’s coffee. If he drinks without complaint, he proves his patience, maturity, and worth.
From the Bosphorus to the Thames
Coffee spread quickly westward. The Venetians probably first encountered it through trade links. But there is a clearer connection between Turkey and the original London coffee scene: Daniel Edwards, a Levant Company merchant who lived in Smyrna, today’s Izmir, brought his servant Pasqua Rosee to London. In 1652, Rosee opened what is considered the city’s first coffeehouse, in St. Michael’s Alley.
For a penny, guests could drink as much as they liked while joining lively conversations. Like the Turkish kahvehane, these “penny universities” were centers of news, politics, and sometimes dissent. More precisely, they were places of male dissent. Women were not allowed to drink coffee in either culture, but in London, at least, women could work in the coffeehouse.
‘Americans drink it to the last drop’
Despite its rich history and cultural significance, Turkish coffee never achieved global brand recognition like espresso. Sever blames this on a generational gap. “We’ve confined Turkish coffee to a ritual, and young people now see it as something they only drink with their parents,” she says.
She says innovation is necessary for global appeal. Dogan disagrees, insisting that traditions must be protected.
Others are working hard to introduce Turkish coffee to the world. Ayse Kapusuz organizes Turkish coffee workshops in London, while in New York, Uluc Ulgen – Dr. Honeybrew – runs the Turkish Coffee Room, offering theatrical sessions of coffee drinking and fortune-telling.
“Despite the bitter taste of Turkish coffee, Americans drink it to the last drop for the show of cup reading,” he says.
Where to find good coffee in Istanbul
For an authentic coffee-drinking experience in Turkey, Kapusuz advises finding a place where coffee is prepared slowly in a cezve, preferably on hot sand, and served hot with thick foam, with the addition of lokum and water.
In Istanbul, Kapusuz recommends Hafız Mustafa. Sever suggests Mandabatmaz on Istiklal Street and Nuri Toplar in the city’s Egyptian Bazaar. For a modern twist, she suggests Haci Bekir in Kadikoy.
Cup reading can be found in Istanbul’s Sultanahmet district or near Tunel in Beyoglu, but Dogan suggests a more intimate approach, since the experience is more about storytelling and human connection than fortune-telling. That might simply mean asking a local coffee drinker for help in finding a fascinating story waiting at the bottom of the cup, N1 writes.
