Like all the grandchildren, when I was a child I used to go to my grandmother's house. So, at the end of elementary school and at the beginning of middle school, when I began to get the consent of my parents to travel alone or by bus to the city, the weekend after school, I took the bus with some friends and joined my grandmother! I was very happy, not only because for me, she was such a special person and that in my heart she has always occupied a privileged place, even now that physically she has moved away forever, but also for another reason: she lived alone .
She was happy to live alone, because she was a very strong, independent woman, albeit with a collection of illnesses, but she never wanted to live with her children, who had already created their families. For the way of organizing family life in Albania, for children, living together with elderly parents, even after they were married, was a common thing for most families. A little for mentality, a little because the fragile economic situation of families, in a certain way imposed this coexistence to facilitate its management.
You instead, no! She had to live alone in her apartment in the city and woe to those who appointed her to move in order to take advantage of the help and assistance of her children. I therefore, as a child, apart from the fact that I loved her very much, but seeing her alone, because she usually joined us on Sundays, or we were all, children and grandchildren to go and eat with her, I felt this emotional need to to visit her at the weekend.
As soon as I arrived after school, it was now time for lunch, I found the lunch ready, possibly with some dishes that she knew I liked, like the 'byrek', which as she did, nobody did it, or some dessert , 'kek', or 'revani' .. We were eating both, I cleared up afterwards and I said to her: "Grandma, now you go to rest, I clean the house ..." I wanted to fix and give her a hand in the house, even though she was a great worker and was very busy, but in any case, health prevented her from doing so much ...
When he woke up from his afternoon rest, he found the house beautiful and fragrant ..
I, I knew our afternoon ritual would come soon, and do you know what it was?
Time to toast and then grind coffee! I was passionate about it ..
Her grandmother was also a great smoker, she could not stop smoking and coffee for her, along with smoking, were her good friends during her days ... For health, they 'good' were a little less, but however, she probably needed to fill in the gaps that caused her certain thoughts, one of which, perhaps, was the distance from her land ...
The coffee took him strictly 'Turkish', as well as in all the Albanian houses and in the Balkans in general. Moreover, the Turkish coffee was her coffee, because she herself was not Albanian, she came from Turkey!
For its preparation, in addition to the special pots, called 'xhezve', one had to think about roasting first.
So for the roasting, which was one of my amusing tasks, it was necessary:
Not having equipped kitchens, to limit a small electric stove, which she discarded, traditional as it was, but she preferred the kerosene stove on which we rested the ancient coffee toast (dollapi i kafes ose qebapi i kafes) ..! I sat down and made this toasty coffee turn left and right, not to feel the wrist anymore ..
The grandmother, after a while, arrived to check if the roasting was right, opening the tool window and if the color and the perfume were suitable, we could consider the roasting optimal ..
I was amazed by these beautiful coffee beans, which I imagined them dancing in this hot, "dance floor" that, at the same time, they heated so much, like the dancers when they dance energetically, they even toasting and giving off a wonderful scent throughout the house.
But it wasn't finished here: the coffee also had to be ground! So, the time to rest my wrists a little, I began to grind my coffee passionately in my grandmother's old brass mill. The mill, turning with difficulty initially, as its internal blades clashed with the hardness of the coffee beans, slowly, it started to lighten my work and the coffee became a fine fine powder ..
The grandmother poured it into her special container and when her friends, my parents, uncles and so on arrived, the time of consummation of the coffee, always so pleasant, became for me also a nice moment of satisfaction for my commitment ...
These are certainly small things, but for us of the generation that has experienced the transition from such a backward age for our country to another more avant-garde in many ways, they leave a good taste inside us, regardless from the difficult life, deprivations and deficiencies of every kind, except the affective lack of relatives and friends that he proudly held, a record of importance ..!
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