Fermented millet… Millet? Most of us may have only ever encountered millet in pet shops being sold as budgerigar food. Other grains for example wheat or rice, or a combination are also used. The cereal of choice is cooked, and later yeast and sugar added, then left to ferment for 2-3 days. A few different recipes for homemade boza can surely be found on the internet in its eclectic thoroughness. But if you are in Istanbul why would you bother when you can get a generous glass full for 3 TL. I couldn’t get a clear answer about the roots of it - some mention Mesopotamia, some Albania, but all the sources talked about a 1000-year long tradition of this wonderful brew. Because the thing is that it needs to be fermented. Brewed. So if you are wondering now. Yes, it has some alcohol content, but at around 1% you would need to binge really hard to get a buzz. One of the theories of where the name stems from is Persian: buuze darı (darı being the millet component). In the Ottoman days Istanbul was dotted with 300 shops, and over 1000 boza sellers supplied their wares in the streets (rare now but near Eyüp mosque is one I know of). That meant there was some serious quaffing going on this town. Frequently shops were owned by Albanians. Being a Bozaci must have been a fickle business back then as the arrival of a new sultan could mean the (for want of a better word) licensing laws would change, making it illegal over night. History suggest the alcoholic content was going up steadily (increasing with the intensity of a longer fermentation process) until it punched at a whopping 9% alcohol content. Booze indeed. A special concoction “Tartar Boza” containing opium was completely outlawed. One conjures up stories of rollicking fun. Nowadays Turkish people are still keen to tell you about the health benefits, the strengthening characteristics, aiding milk production in lactating mothers, and other benefits to physical and mental health. And to virility. An old story gets told with a wry grin of the Boza sellers making their rounds late at night. With their cries “Bozaaa” windows would open, and buckets on ropes lowered down the street. The tradesman would take the coins and place the precious product inside, the bucket pulled up again. Fueled by carbohydrates and sugar, and drunken on passion, a long sultry night could commence. Istanbul’s most famous place for Boza is in Vefa (in Fatih) which can be easily reached from Taksim by the buses heading to Aksaray. The bus stop is near the old city walls, and as you descend deeper into the old city quarters to find Vefa Bozacısı, to order this historical old drink, it doesn’t get any more ‘Constantinoplesque’. The business, established in 1876 by Hacı Sadık Bey, is still in the hands of the same family. Up high in a corner, proudly displayed, a copper mug, the very cup Atatürk drank out of. The shop has another income stream in selling natural lemon juice, pomegranate sauce and vinegars, and the wares displayed in glass bottles are adding to the charm of this old shop, housed in an historical building. I was definitely overdue for this visit. Vefa is practically a household name. Just a lack of opportunities, and time boldly galloping away at a steady pace meant I had actually never been to the store. We went on a Sunday midday, the weather brazing, the shop was full with families. The order procedure is simple: before going to the boza shop, buy a bag of leblebi (roasted chickpeas) from the Leblebici opposite. Then head over, take a portion from the counter - either served in a glass, or a take-away cup, and add any amount of cinnamon you wish. The freshly roasted leblebi get dropped in, and you are ready for a century-old treat. It is referred to as a drink, but the thick consistency means it requires a spoon. Yellowish in colour, it is quite thick and has a subtle tangy sweetness that is not cloying, but ever-so-pleasant. As we stood around spooning our probiotic treat, the backdoor swung open, and a worker brought in a carafe with a fresh batch, a beautiful copper vessel with an elegantly curved spigot. There was definitely another reason not to replace a trip to Fatih with buying the pre-bottled versions. These are poor copies, said to be full of powdered milk and starch. I pondered on this Istanbul icon. The setting, the art of fermenting shown here, aromatic cinnamon and roasted chickpeas making a drink that could easily replace a hankering for soup or a dessert, and has a most satiating effect, filling the stomach pleasantly for hours. Perhaps it’s the lingering memories of long-forgotten days embedded in the cobblestone, the grandeur of old Istanbul town that adds the last vital sprinkle to the brew. (Please see these links for more information about historical background: hurriyetdailynews and travelatelier.com)
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AuthorInnate curiosity, learned (discovered) deep love and appreciation for Turkey, a bit of time at my hands, and always hungry: voila, a food blogger! Archives
September 2019
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