Sultan Abdul Hamid II, an Ottoman ruler who reigned from 1876 to 1909, was famously known for his love of coffee. In a corner of the antique furniture display at Dolmabahçe Palace’s museum, there is a story engraved about his daily habit of drinking seven cups of Yemeni coffee. His passion underscored the mark of the first coffee trading that influenced the Turkish coffee culture in the present time. To make the experience becomes more rich in culture, they were also initiated to import an Egyptian sand to be used to brewed their Kahvesi in a fancy pot.
The influenced of aristocracy in shaping this culture, becomes more than just a luxury afternoon snack for upper-state individuals. In the alfresco of Karakoy and in the grove of Sultanahmet, from touristy café to coffee kiosks have already provided this type of coffee luxury, brewed in a copper pot using the same Egyptian sands. The people in this café are varied, from students to entrepreneurs, from locals to tourists and from middle class workers to upper higher state people, they are all gathered under the same roof to be served a hot cup of Türk Kahvesi.
As a person who has been living for years to grab a coffee in a paper cup and go, in hustling busy street of Jakarta to work, or in a long queue of Hermano’s in London to catch up for the afternoon class, the tiny cup of a bold Türk Kahvesi confused me.
A barista in Sultanahmet told me, “It ensures the coffee stays warm and allows for a slow, deliberate sipping, which is crucial for the ritualistic and social aspect of drinking Turkish coffee and engaging in conversation. The better the quality of the conversation is, the longer it lasts. That’s why a cup of Turkish coffee is meant to encourage social gathering and meaningful conversation. It is nodded by an article from National Geographic, highlighted a famous Turkish saying: “‘Eat sweet, talk sweet.’ If you just want to chat, we drink sweet tea. If you want a serious talk, then we have coffee.”
“A cup of movement”—that’s how coffee is seen nowadays in the northern part of Istanbul, especially in Beşiktaş. After a temporary pause in the Taksim Square protests due to the Eid holiday, Istanbulites found a new way to express dissent toward the government: by boycotting their beloved coffee.
The sound of protest rang loud across Beşiktaş, a district known for its predominantly left-wing, secular residents, more so than in any other part of the city.
‘They’ve been boycotting the big coffee chains here as a protest against inflation and the government. That’s why we haven’t had as many customers as usual,‘ said Fatah, an Indonesian coffee shop owner at Envai Café in Beşiktaş.
‘But some still come to boutique cafés like ours. Most of them are loyal customers and part of the community,’ he added.
Unlike any other café in Istanbul, Envai provided more modernized and globally known type of coffees — from latte to cappuccino, all imported from Colombia and Indonesia. ‘Istanbul is pretty much late when it comes to the modern coffee style and coffee chains. They are practically new in this kind of coffees.’ Said Fatah, who were started his coffee career as a barista, to a known coffee judge competition in Istanbul. ‘That is why, many people come in here on the evening after work or school, they found lattes are less stronger and makes the conversation last longer.’
People in Istanbul are indeed a great conversationalist, they love to talk about everything. From touristic recommendations, entrepreneurship 101 until political discussion, they have you on the brewed copper pot — hot and intriguing. The longer the night, the more traditional the music is changing, the colder the coffee is becoming, the more interesting the conversation will be. That’s how, most of the movement and actions are initiated in a small coffee shop of Istanbul.
It’s fascinating to see how the aristocratic ritual of drinking coffee has, in recent days, been turned against the very institutions it once symbolized, echoing resistance in every sip the people take. The meaning of coffee has evolved from a tradition steeped in copper pots to a statement brewed in paper cups. Once, Turkish coffee was cherished not only for its rich taste but also for the fortunes told in the grounds left behind on the cup. Now, with a closed paper cup in hand, people choose to face an uncertain future—fortune to read, just the quiet defiance of modern protest.
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