I woke early again this morning (4:30 AM), a function of disturbed sleep patterns that began a few days ago when I found myself wide-awake at 3:30 AM and unable to fall back to sleep because of an espresso the previous day at 3 PM. Yesterday, I had to get up at 5 AM to go fly-fishing, so the sleep deficit continued.

I woke with a hankering for something I hadn’t drunk in 40 years or more…my grandmother’s Kaffe Olé (As she used to call it – Greek coffee with milk). Now, Greek coffee would not be an intuitive choice for making Café Au Lait, the grinds at the bottom creating a potential mud-bath of milk and coffee. But if you’re careful and only pour off the top half of the briki into your warm milk, a very different and absolutely delicious variant of the French classic emerges.

For instructions on how to make a great cup of Greek coffee, visit my first post ever on this blog here.

Waking around 5 AM today left me with a desire for something different shave-wise…something a little stronger than usual. I dredged out a container of Trumper’s Rose shave cream from the back of the second cabinet, now in exile in the guest room. It contains my “second string” shave products…those that for one reason or another I tend to use less frequently. It is frankly a huge armamentarium and one filled with surprises long forgotten. The Trumper’s container was new. I had hesitated to use it after several admonitions on the various discussion boards that it was so strongly tinted it might stain the shaving brush. No such problem. This is an outstanding cream that produces a thick billowy lather, with the added bonus of a whopping smell that can stir the brain cells into action on a dreary and far too early day. With a brand new Wilkinson Classic blade in the E.J. Chatsworth, a truly sensational shave was had. I’m now ready to drive the Kommandant to her yoga class and spend the morning with the archaeologist daughter hunting exotic foodstuffs and libations at the Jean-Talon Market.

But first, a double cup of Greek coffee while I wait for the Sunday paper to show up somewhere around 7 AM.

Thanks to Mr. Italo for introducing me to Bitchin’ Kitchen…an amazing site with hilarious videos about everything culinary. Follow the link here to a great segment on coffee, featuring Panos in defense of Greek coffee. And his method for making it is pretty good too!

Archaeologist-daughter would laugh at my calling this briki “ancient” since, for her, anything after the birth of Christ is considered modern construction. She found this briki for me in an antique shop in Athens during her most recent dig at Helike. The antiquarian emphasized that this should absolutely not be used for making coffee today because, in his words, “it will kill you!”. Probably the lead solder they used in the days when it was made. Brikia are difficult to date since they have always been functional items, mostly made by itinerant coppersmiths, and sold in bazaars by the thousands. There are no maker’s marks, and no guidebook to styles, etc.

Since Turkish coffee (or Greek coffee as it is called today in Greece) apparently began its popular sweep through the Near East around the 1500’s AD, we can predict that it is no older than that! The shape is interesting, especially the downward slanted handle, which we might speculate means that it was made to be used on a portable gas burner which would have it sitting higher than counter-level – the downward sloping handle would make it easier to handle in that case. If this is true, it might be no more than 100 years old. Anyway, while it’s fun to play detective there is no real way of knowing, and the thing must be enjoyed for what it is and what it allows us to imagine: Who did it serve, where has it been and what historical events were going on around it? Had the Greek Revolution started yet (1821), eventually ending 400 years of Ottoman rule?

I really wanted the briki I showed yesterday, but my Aunt wasn’t about to let it go given its history and significance to her. Last night, about 10 minutes before closing, I wandered into Titan grocery in Astoria, N.Y. This may well be the largest Greek grocery store in America. I bought a few nice-to-haves for the vacation, including Loumidis’ Dark Greek coffee, some Cretan barley rusks (fantastic for breakfast with chopped fresh tomato, crumbled feta, black olives, and olive oil drizzled on top), some Greek saffron threads, and Papoutsanis Olive Oil soap. As I wandered the coffee aisle on my way out, I glanced down to see – unbelievably – a very similar copy of my Aunt’s briki, lying haphazardly on the bottom bin. I scooped it up and headed for the cash register, amazed at my good luck. Now comes the fun part – getting to know the briki and squeezing out the thickest, richest kaimaki possible…no small task from such a large unit (6 demi-tasse size!).

Here is a beautiful briki that I found at my Aunt’s home in Windham. Its her grandmother’s (maybe even older), and makes 6 Greek demi-tasse coffees. A really nice size and unusual shape.

There’s an old joke that the Middle-East peace talks would be more successful if they were held in the one place Jews and Arabs have gotten along for years….Beverly Hills!

When I first visited Greece in 1975 I made the mistake of asking a Cretan coffee-shop owner (dressed in black bloomers, black knee-high boots, a black head-scarf, and a knife in his belt – straight out of the villagers in Zorba The Greek) for a Turkish coffee. He glared at me with his black eyes for a moment before saying, “If you ever ask me for a Turkish coffee again, I will throw you out of my store”. Over the years, friends to whom I have recounted this story (yes, Tom, this means YOU!) have teased me mercilessly about my faux-pas. Well, it turns out that I was not as indiscreet as some would believe, and in fact, Greeks called it Turkish coffee as well, up until the Turkish invasion of Cyprus in 1974. Growing up in Montreal, everyone called it Turkish coffee, or when ordering in a kafeneio or restaurant, simply a Turkish.

Further some 30 years, and Greeks are now one of Turkey’s most frequent holiday visitors, as well as supporters of the country’s membership in the European Union. In that same spirit of detente, I find myself increasingly drawn to Turkish products, as can be witnessed below:

I’ve already raved about the excellent Derby razor blades in my various shaving entries. The Arko shave stick just arrived and I’m eager to try it, following rave reviews on the shaving forums (more on that later today). I have not tasted the Cola Turka, which I acquired as a small memento and curiosity during my 2003 Aegean sailing trip on our rented 56-foot sailboat, Sophia III, that started in Bodrum, Turkey. Just the right size for seven burly, overfed Greeks.

No trip to Turkey would be complete without a visit to the Hammam or Turkish baths. Definitely not co-ed since that much corpulence on display might reduce the already declining Western birth-rate even further than it already is (not a picture of me, by-the-way):

My friend Natacha and I were discussing Greek coffee the other day, when she showed me a briki she inherited from her uncle, and which dates back to her grandmother’s time in Russia. Despite its great age, it is in superb condition. The decorative work is beautiful but not gaudy as one often sees in brikis these days. The metal (probably copper, clad with tin on the inside?) is much thicker than the modern versions that are churned out by the millions and sold in bazaars and stores around the world. Dying to use it, but Natacha assured me that if I did, she would make my dreams of an EHM shave (Eunuch’s Hairless Mug) a reality!

Bonus: self-portrait of my fingers in the shot of the base. Anyone read Russian? Translation please!

I learned how to make Greek coffee, first from toddler-to-teenager by watching my grandmother do it every morning, and then by making it for her in later years when her hands had grown too arthritic to handle the spoon and briki (coffee pot) comfortably. In 1975, after graduating from university, I went to Greece for the first time and managed to get permission to visit Mount Athos, The Holy Mountain, where I began the first of more than 14 visits over the next thirty-some years, to the monks living in the 20 monasteries and dozens of hermitages. Here, the making of coffee is a central ritual in the welcoming of the thousands of pilgrims who visit each year, and I had a chance to observe and learn from many serious “masters” in the making of this marvelous drink.

Here is my technique:

1. Use very cold water, preferably the bottled type, as the chlorine in many municipal tap waters will interfere with both the flavor and the creation of a nice thick kaimaki (foam).

2. Make sure you have a traditional briki (coffee pot) or cezve (Turkey), or ibrick (no this is not made by Apple Corp.), as it known in Middle Eastern countries. The shape of the briki is crucial in the creation of the kaimaki.

3. For a metrion (middle sweetness) coffee, use a one-to-one ratio of sugar to coffee, about 1 very heaping-teaspoon of each for every cup of coffee. Obviously, how much you use will depend on the size of the briki. Be sure to use the right size briki since it will influence the development of the kaimaki. Most Greek (and Turkish) coffee aficionados will judge the quality of your coffee from the thickness of your kaimaki.

4 . Put the briki on a stove at medium-high heat. Make sure to watch it continuously because the moment the coffee begins to boil it will surely boil-over and make a mess of your stove.

5. The crucial part in producing an outstanding cup of Greek coffee is in knowing when to pull it off the heat source. If it boils, the coffee will be substandard. This is the “art” of coffee-making. Watch the opening of the briki and look for the surface of the coffee to begin to gently roll over at the edges. Here’s a pretty good picture. At this moment pull it off the heat and let it “rest” for 20 seconds or so. Then put it on the heat source again and repeat the process of observing, retracting, and resting, 2-4 times. Each time you do this it will thicken the kaimaki.

6. Pour a little kaimaki gently into each of the cups and then go back and fill each cup with the remaining coffee in order to make sure that everyone has some kaimaki.

7. Sip and enjoy.