#turkish coffee pots

[an-aura-about-you]

Report from the honey festival:

Large Bee

[da-riya]

[shaoxingshangyuhopingelectric]

turkish coffee pot

Name: Coffee Pot

Function: Ideal for cooking traditional/Turkish coffee,hot chocolate,milk etc.

Feature:

Quick to cook Turkish coffee in a minute Big capacity 250ml 5 cups suitable for big family Switch with indicator on handle makes it easy to control the cooking Color and logo customization acceptable.

[porcelainseashore]

Coffee & Secrets (1)

Series Masterlist

Pairing: Rookie Cop! Leon x Barista! Fem! Reader

Summary: As a cozy coffee shop owner in Raccoon City, you’re no stranger to visitors seeking comfort, quiet, and warmth. When a rookie officer named Leon finds a kindred spirit in you, it sets in motion a chain of events that forever changes the course of your lives. An alternate universe set in Resident Evil 2 Remake and inspired by the game Coffee Talk.

Content & Warnings: Canon divergence, coffee shops, romance, slow burn, strangers to lovers, idiots in love, fluff, slice of life, swearing

Authors' Note: The biggest heartfelt thank you to my friends @alibellerosetta and Cameron who beta’d this fic + all those who reached out and supported me in DMs! ❤️ P.S. There may be spoilers for Coffee Talk ahead, so read at your own discretion.

AO3 Link

Chapter 1: Arrival

September 30, 1998. It was heavy rain and howling winds, but your shop was still open, like a beacon of light in the darkness. A flash of lightning and a high beam panned across the window. The rumbling sound of an engine came to a halt. 

Could that be your first customer of the day?

Your question was answered when a young, red-haired woman in a matching leather jacket burst through the front door, triggering the welcome chime that signaled a new arrival. She was drenched like a drowned rat, helmet tucked under her arm as she made her way over to the counter tentatively, her eyes darting back and forth at the empty space before her.

“Hey, uh, you’re open, right?”

“Of course.” Your smile was genial and bright, but not scorching—mellow like the midnight sun in a starless sky. “What would you like, miss?”

She relaxed a little, her shoulders loosening as she placed her helmet on the counter until it appeared as if she remembered something. Looking back, her gaze followed the trail of dirty puddles she had left in her wake. Water pooled from her soaked boots as she gave you a sheepish grin. “Um, sorry.”

You waved it off with a laugh. “Apologize when you can control the weather.” Grabbing a couple of tea towels from the nearby rack, you handed it to her. “Here, why don’t you dry off while I fix you something to warm up with?”

She thanked you profusely as you got to work, concocting up a special blend of frothy hot chocolate with milk, honey, rosewater, and a touch of cinnamon. The pattering of rain from the outside complemented the chill lo-fi soundtrack you had put on in the background.

Sliding the glass over the surface of the table, you placed it in front of her. “Your Turkish Delight, miss.”

“Claire,” she offered. “Just call me Claire.” 

As she brought the steamy drink to her lips, her eyes widened, like something had caught her by surprise.

“Mmm, wow,” she sputtered. “This is—”

“Good?”

“Really good!” she corrected, as she gulped the rest down enthusiastically.

At that moment, the door chime tinkled again, and another stranger strolled in, attempting to brush away the droplets from his clothes in vain. Running a hand through his slick blonde bangs, his piercing blue eyes fell upon the two of you like a deer in the headlights.

“Uh, um…” he stammered, only to shake his head in response at his own fumbling as he cleared his throat to try again. “Do you mind if—”

But you were already there, holding out another towel before he could even blink.

“Oh, uh, thanks.” The corners of his mouth curled into a shy smile as he took the towel from your hands gratefully.

“You better leave her a good tip!” Claire hollered from where she sat as he chuckled and raised his hands in mock resignation.

“And what can I get you, mister?”

“Leon.”

“Hmm?”

He stuck out his hand, greeting you with an air of innocence and genuineness. “I’m Leon.”

You shook hands and introduced yourself before he would reveal his order. “Just a coffee, nothing fancy.”

“Coming right up,” you called out over your shoulder, a knowing look cast across your face.

As you prepared a pot of black filter coffee, you overheard your two customers exchanging a few words.

“You from Raccoon City?”

“Nah, I’m just here for a few days to visit my brother. Lemme guess, you’re not from around here either?”

“Not really, well, not yet. I mean, I was supposed to start my first day at the RPD—”

“Wait, today? Have you seen the time?”

“I know, I know… I got delayed. Add the insane weather and I’m still trying to work out the directions on this map.”

“Well, rookie, you’re in luck. My brother’s part of S.T.A.R.S., so I could lead you to the station when the weather clears up a little.”

“Rookie? Really?”

“Do you want my help or not?”

Pouring the freshly brewed coffee into a cup, you served it to Leon, who had just accepted Claire’s offer, despite his slight hesitation. “Your nothing fancy coffee.”

He snickered, locking eyes with you for a split second before taking a sip. Tension eased from his brows as he closed them shut, sighing blissfully into the cup. “It’s—”

“Really good?” Claire suggested, finishing his sentence from him.

He nodded and pursed his lips, finishing the rest of the drink in a couple of mouthfuls. Gesturing towards Claire’s empty glass, he stated, “I’ll get hers too.”

As he fished out a couple of crumpled bills, you stopped him, instinctively placing your hand over his when he tried to slip them over. His eyes flickered at your touch, but he did not pull away, waiting patiently for your response.

“On the house,” you clarified.

“What? No,” Claire protested as she motioned to the empty seats around her. “How’s your shop gonna survive like this?”

“I’ll manage,” you shrugged before peering out through one of the side windows. “Seems like the rain’s lightened up.”

“We’ll be back,” Leon promised, his gaze stoic and sincere, as he dragged the chair out under him, preparing to leave. Claire did the same.

As the door chime tinkled for the final time that evening, he paused abruptly, popping his head back in to ask, “When are you open?”

At this, you let out a smile. “Only at night.”

Dividers by @/cafekitsune

[nomadomar]

The Coffee Shop Chronicles: A Sip of Transformation

Chapter 2: Stirring the Pot

Wong had never felt so out of place, yet so drawn in. Something about the coffee shop and the men who frequented it, with their effortless grace and confident charm, tugged at him. After that first encounter with Amir’s gaze, a spark had been lit inside him. He wasn’t sure what it was, but he knew he wanted more—more of that feeling, more of that connection. So, in his own awkward way, Wong decided to make a change.

He spent hours watching, observing the nuances of the Arab men who populated the café. How they greeted one another with kisses on the cheek, the way they clasped hands with a firm, confident grip. He noticed their fashion, how their shirts fit just right—slim but not tight, their shoes polished to perfection. They exuded an ease that Wong found both intimidating and alluring. And then there was the language. The soft, rolling sounds of Arabic that flowed from their mouths like music, punctuated by deep, resonant laughter.

Wong, in his typical over-analytical way, made a decision. He’d blend in. He’d figure it out, master their ways. He wasn’t going to be the awkward outsider anymore. Or at least, that was the plan.

His first attempt was... not so bad.

He entered the café with an air of newfound confidence—or what he hoped passed for confidence. He wore a crisp white shirt, one he’d spent far too long ironing that morning. The jeans he’d traded for slacks felt stiff against his legs, and he’d swapped his usual sneakers for a pair of leather shoes he’d found buried in his closet. He looked the part, or at least he thought he did, until he noticed the curious glances from the regulars.

He took a deep breath and walked up to the counter, trying to replicate the casual swagger he’d seen in the other men. “Salaam,” he said, in what he thought was a respectful tone. But the word sounded foreign and clumsy on his tongue, more of a stutter than the smooth greeting he had hoped for.

The barista—a different one today, with a neatly trimmed beard and sharp eyes—raised an eyebrow, his lips quirking into an amused smile. Wong felt his face flush.

“I’ll have a, uh... Turkish coffee,” Wong said, his voice cracking a little. He wasn’t even sure if that was the right choice. What had Amir been drinking that day? He’d tried to remember, but all he could recall was how Amir had made him feel—hot, flushed, and completely off-balance.

The barista nodded, suppressing a chuckle, and Wong quickly retreated to his usual spot by the window. He glanced around the room, hoping he hadn’t made too much of a fool of himself. The men at the nearby tables were talking animatedly in Arabic, their words flowing effortlessly. Wong shifted in his seat, wishing he could understand them, wishing he could be part of that world.

A soft chuckle broke his thoughts. Wong looked up, and there he was—Amir, standing at his usual corner table, watching him with a gleam of amusement in his eyes.

“Turkish coffee?” Amir’s voice was smooth, the words laced with an undertone of teasing. He strolled over to Wong’s table, his every movement measured and deliberate, like a predator sizing up its prey.

Wong blinked, caught off guard. “Yeah, I—uh, I thought I’d try something new.”

Amir’s lips curled into a smile, and he slid into the seat across from Wong, his eyes never leaving his. “Bold choice. It’s not for everyone.” His voice was like velvet, each word flowing effortlessly.

Wong swallowed, his throat suddenly dry. “I guess I’ll see if I’m one of those people.”

Amir leaned back in his chair, his gaze still fixed on Wong. “You’ve been coming here a lot lately. I’ve noticed.” His tone was casual, but there was something else beneath it—an interest, a curiosity.

Wong’s face flushed again. “Yeah, I—well, I like the atmosphere. And the coffee’s good.”

Amir raised an eyebrow, the amusement deepening in his eyes. “The coffee, huh?” He leaned forward slightly, his voice lowering just a fraction. “Is that all?”

Wong felt his heart skip a beat. There was something about the way Amir was looking at him—like he could see right through his attempts to fit in, like he knew exactly what was going on in Wong’s head.

“I mean... the people are nice too,” Wong mumbled, trying to keep his composure. His fingers fidgeted with the edge of his cup.

Amir chuckled, a deep, rich sound that sent a shiver down Wong’s spine. “Nice, hmm? Is that what you call staring at me across the room for the past few days?”

Wong’s eyes widened in shock. He opened his mouth to protest, but no words came out. Amir’s smile widened, clearly enjoying his discomfort.

“I’m just teasing,” Amir said, his voice softer now, less playful but no less intense. “Relax. I’m flattered, actually.”

Wong blinked, unsure how to respond. His mind was racing, a mix of embarrassment, excitement, and something else—something unfamiliar and thrilling.

Just then, the barista arrived with Wong’s coffee, placing the small cup in front of him with a knowing smile. Wong muttered a quick “thank you,” his fingers brushing against the porcelain cup as if it could ground him.

Amir’s gaze shifted to Wong’s hand, lingering there for a moment before he casually reached across the table. His fingertips grazed the back of Wong’s hand, a light, fleeting touch, but it sent a jolt through Wong’s entire body. He froze, his breath catching in his throat.

“Careful,” Amir said, his voice low, almost a whisper. “It’s hot.”

Wong swallowed hard, his skin still tingling from the brief contact. He looked up at Amir, whose eyes were now locked onto his, dark and smoldering.

“I’ll keep that in mind,” Wong managed to say, though his voice was barely steady. His pulse was racing, and he felt heat rising in places he didn’t expect, the undercurrent of attraction between them now impossible to ignore.

Amir leaned back, satisfied, the playful smile returning to his lips. “Good,” he said. “You’re learning.”

Wong’s heart pounded in his chest, and he wasn’t sure if it was from the coffee or something far more dangerous.

The next chapter will be released next Friday 20th September. 💚

The Coffee Shop Chronicles: A Sip of Transformation Chapter 1: A New Brew Chapter 2: Stirring the Pot

[xxgoblin-dumplingxx]

I'm not usually super into the werewolf trope, but I volunteer to be werewolf!Bruce's dessert. If he's interested. Loving that universe! Can't wait to see where you'll take it!

"Izolda-"

"Do not 'Izolda' me, imp," she scolded,scowling as she accepted the cup of Turkish coffee. "You smell like wolf."

"Hardly," you snort.

"Hmph."

"I bought your monkey paws and your parchment-"

"And met with the wolf-"

"More accurately he followed me through town," you correct, pouring salt, dried lemon, and lavender into a waiting basin.

"Why for?" she demanded.

"I didn't ask."

"Imp," she scolded. "I do not bring you here to play games with wolves-"

"Hello pot meet kettle."

"That was different."

"Hardly. The half of Mariska's seethe you did not sleep with you dragged into the sun. This is one infatuated werewolf."

You don't need to look up to know you're being glared at. You can feel the heat burn along your skin. But you don't have the patience to keep arguing with Izolda all night. Or the energy. The truth was, after hundreds of years, the old woman was tired. And there was more work in Gotham than she could handle.

Truthfully, it wasn't just Gotham. Not anymore. Natural witches were a rarer and rarer find. And her sphere of influence spread further every year. The underground networks getting choked out by time. The long-running allegiances dying off as more and more of the old guard died off. And it wore on her. Understandably.

After centuries of being an unstoppable force, relying on her great-great-great- great granddaughter to heft the burden rankled. And you couldn't blame her.

She'd been a legend. More myth than fact. And open secret. A bogeywoman used to scare wayward children.

"You think. Until he eats you."

You look up from your work and raise your eyebrow only for her slowl to intensify, "Get mind out of gutter."

"Stop pretending your English isn't better than mine. You're not a helpless old woman. And you've been here longer than George Washington."

"Have not," she snorted. "Only since the Bolsheviks. I only visited before."

[incorrectsmashbrosquotes]

Another Baldur's Gate - 2

*Raphael's boss fight in the House of Hope*

Tav, barely holding on, 1 HP left: Well, Raphael, let me just say this. All this time, you thought you were a cat, playing witha sstupid, blind mouse. But you forgot one thing

Raphael, also 1 HP left: Spit it out you worm!

Tav: Even a mousse will go for the throat if cornered. Now, let me show you what they taught us in Paladin School. MINTHARA!

Minthara: READY!

Tav and Minthara: DIVINE SMITE!

*the entire world flashes gold and white, Raphael screams in agony as golden fire consumes his flesh*

-Later-

*In Ganondorf's little corner of Hell, the big man himself is sipping on Turkish coffe in his bathrobe and reading the newspaper*

*Raphael, beaten, bloodied, and missing a wing appear in the air and crashes into Ganondorf's coffee table*

Ganondorf: You're paying for that.

Raphael, lying face down among the wreckage: Eat shit you two-bit hack!

Ganondorf: Hmm, let me guess, mortals showed you what for, eh?

Raphael: I don't understand! I'm the Devil! They had literally no other options! I had 666 HP! I SANG MY OWN BLOODY THEME SONG!

Ganondorf: Never underestimate the protagonisty gumption of idiots backed intoa corner. It won't save your life, but it might save you humiliation.

Raphael: Uggh. *sits up* They even killed my pet Incubus!

Ganondorf: ...The one you-

Raphael: Yes the one I had polymorphed into myself so I could have sex with it!

Ganondorf: ...And people call me the freak. Coffee's in the pot if you want it. *goes back to his newspaper*

-

*At the Mansion*

Lae'zel: ...

Yoshi: ...

Lae'zel: ...

Yoshi: ...

Lae'zel: REVEAL YOUR SECRETS TO ME CREATURE! *draws her sword*

Yoshi: YOSHI!

*Yoshi shoots his tongue out and swallows Lae'zel, pooping her out as an egg*

Wyll: LAE'ZEL!

*he rushes over but the egg shatters, revealing Lae'Zel sitting there witha thousand yard stare*

Wyll: L- Lae'zel?

Lae'zel: ...I have see eternity...

[qsycomplainsalot]

Since I talked about reprehensibly stupid youtubers recently it reminded me of one that's absolutely fine but also said a couple really dumb things. If I recall correctly the one person doing the book vs movie and other adaptation reviews on the yootoob talked shit about Edmund for selling out his siblings for turkish delights. I mean that in itself is harsh considering as a British kid during the Blitz you probably had to sweeten your morning coffee by boiling it in a lead pot, but on top of that he called turkish delights gross ? ..? ...has he never had turkish delights ? Either he's got a very specific distaste for them or he's never read up on what they are, anyway it's fucking weird. And actually I lied I wasn't reminded of that because of that other youtuber prick, I was reminded of it because I got a box of marron glacés on the discount rack from l'artisan provençal (good brand) and I was just wondering what this guy would find gross about those.

[cryptid-stimming]

Turkish Coffee Stimboard

x x x / x x x / x x x

[Image description: a 9 gif stimboard; from left to right.

First line: a gif of a cezve (a small metal coffee pot) over a stovetop with the coffee inside bubbling up and emitting steam, a gif of someone swirling three cezves in hot sand with the coffee bubbling and boiling inside, and a gif of someone tipping spoonfuls of coffee powder into a cezve containing boiling water.

Second line: a gif of someone removing a cezve from hot sand and pouring the coffee inside into porcelain teacups set out in a ring around the sand, a close-up gif of the base of a cezve swirling in sand, and a gif of someone moving two cezves in the sand which then jump cuts to them pouring the coffee into a porcelian teacup.

Third line: a gif of a cezve on a stove top, the coffee inside bubbling up rapidly towards the rim of the pot, a gif of a cevze being swirled back and forth in the sand while the coffee bubbles fast inside, and a gif of someone slowly swirling a cezve in sand to boil the coffee inside.

End of image description.]

(gif 3 from @/mirza.nisic on tiktok)

[foodglorious-food]

If you're into coffee, as I am, you need to rotate Turkish coffee into your regimen.

Attached is a video that shows the making of Turkish Coffee, in this case, sweetened with sugar and spiced with Cardamom, the way I like it.

Turkish coffee is typically made with an Ibrik, aka, a long handled copper pot, and very very very fine coffee grounds.

[lemonbalmgirl]

Just got home from visiting @upthewitchypunx & rifling through the piles of stuff their shitty, recent ex-roommate left.

It's always a bag of mixed feelings when you benefit from someone else's shitty situation, you know?

Pictured: a "packable" down jacket, (Toby), a red "Turkish" coffee pot, a green velvet comforter & pillowcase set, a fleece cat blanket (which is for my cats), non-Doc floral combat boots, (Aggie), foam Birkenstocks, and a floor pillow.

Not pictured: the large TV my ride acquired, a shirt Roommate might like, a shirt & skirt Cute Girlfriend might like, a couple bralettes, a nightgown, and a couple books. Hey ex, at least I have "The Art of War" now? 😅

@riversidewings Got any coffee tips for me? 💜

[calandrinon]

i return victorious from delicious battle (my birthday dinner) against the ottoman forces (stuffed eggplant and baklava with saffron ice cream) (consecutively)

also two pots of turkish coffee, I can barely keep my eyes open

[em0sket]

ough turkish coffee my beloved love a pot of dirt like liquid

[punkgoescrunk]

Eating ravioli out the Turkish coffee pot

[patrice-bergerons]

All this electric kettle discourse is reminding me of a moment of utter cultural shock I experienced when I first came to the US as a first year in college kgjfjjdhhd

We have this thing called a cezve which is an extremely small "pot"; the copper ones are what you traditionally use to make turkish coffee but the modern metal ones are also extremely common; every household has at least one if not multiple. You can use them to make turkish coffee but it's also what you would use to heat milk and stuff and they come in different sizes, like this:

Anyway when I got to the US I was staying with my host mom for a couple of days and I being a good turk brought turkish coffee with me as a cultural token of my experience.

Except up to that point it had never occurred to me that cezve was not something every household across the western world had and so I did not bring one with me and man those five minutes where I kept trying to describe what I was looking for in her kitchen while this American woman was extremely confused is hilarious in retrospect.