Today is Coffee Day in Austria and I decided to deliver you some coffee news this time. Coffee is how I start into my day and it has been a part of me for some years now. In the balkans coffee has a very special meaning. We drink it usually as a “turkish coffee” variation and we make it all by ourselves. And with -all by ourselves- I am not thinking of a Celine Dion song, but the whole process of roasting and preparing a coffee bean instead.
I am so sad that I do not have photos of my grandmas home and the whole process of preparation, but let me try to explain in a few short sentences until I deliver you the photos…
My granny does it usually like this. We buy 1kg of raw coffee beans and sip approximately 300gr of the greyish colored beans into a metal bowl (which is surely older than me). We then place the bowl into our oven. (and cause words can’t describe the oven, a picture to help you imagine it).
My grandmother stirs the beans every 5 minutes in the beginning and then more and more often, when the aroma starts to spread all over the kitchen. When the beans are roasted she takes the metal bowl and puts them on the tile floor to cool the coffee beans faster. And then I come into the game. I pick up the turkish coffee grinder, sip in the roasted coffee beans and spin the grinder with all my power . When I was like 2 or 3 years old, all I could ever imagine is to finally be big and old enough to mill the coffee for my granny. When that time came (sweet irony) I was not amused, not at all about the grinder-subject. It was hard, it was slow, it was pain in the ass…
|Turkish coffee grinder – pain in the a..|
Nowadays all I can think about is the warmth of grandmothers place, which is probably the only place I can call home. I miss her so much, words just can’t describe, and I hope that every little sip of coffee today will bring me closer to her. I love you Granny.0