Yesterday morning I went to the hostel's kitchen because I desperately needed a cup of coffee. I didn't see a coffee pot, but I saw a tin marked "coffee" next to a water kettle. I put 2 and 2 together and decided it was instant coffee, especially since it was so fine. I poured the black powder into a small cup and mixed in boiling water with sugar. I kept stirring, but the powder wouldn't disolve. I then drank about half a cup until I decided it was too nasty to finish. When washing the cup, I finally saw a small pitcher for Turkish coffee and realized my mistake. It wasn't instant coffee. I was supposed to slowly heat the water and coffee powder in this pitcher until it had simmered for a few minutes. Oops. This afternoon I went to a coffee house and had a real cup of Turkish coffee:
The picture shows the black sludge at the bottom of the cup. Since there's no paper filter or metal mesh to seperate the coffee from the grinds, the Turkish coffee includes the grinds. The Greeks can apparently tell their fortune from these leftover grinds. This coffee is not my favorite, but it was a cultural experience. I'll stick to my French press whenever possible.
Last night a dude I met at the hostel told me that a local restaurant next to the mosque and divine veal dish there. This evening my classmates and I went there, and that dude did not steer me wrong. It was absolutely delicious. The best part was when they put a cover on top of my food when they brought it out of the kitchen. That gesture added to my excitment. I've never had a cover put on my food, but I think it should be a regular feature at all restaurnts.
No comments:
Post a Comment