I remember, as a child, watching my mother ritualistically fill her brass coffee grinder full of beans and churn. It was part of her solemn morning coffee ceremony. I would watch in amusement as it seemed like at the time a lot of effort for one cup of Turkish coffee. The process appeared labourious to me, yet what I didn’t realize was that to her it was probably the only time she had to herself, that morning coffee ritual, still connecting to her ancestors, while raising two kids and holding down the fort.
I now have that brass coffee grinder, it sits in ornamentation. It was one thing I was adamant on having. To this day, she still makes her Turkish coffee, although with pre-ground beans, and at times exchanges the ritual for the easier one of the Nespresso.
And even though I have tried my hand at making a cup or two myself, it never turns out quite as good as my mother’s. Sometimes I think it’s because she has so much love and respect for the process, and other times I think maybe, just maybe she is in all actual fact, the coffee whisperer. -tM
*NB for those interested click on the Source link below for a little history on Turkish Kahve.