Bukhara Beans & Bitter Chills: A Coffee Snob's Frozen Morning
so here i am in bukhara, fingers crossed these wool socks actually work because i just checked and the mercury's basically frozen at 7.14°C and it's not fooling anyone. feels like my bones are doing that rattling thing you get when the cold seeps into your marrow. if you're the type who thinks 'refreshing' means breathing in icicles, then this place is your paradise. otherwise, pack every thermal garment you own.
wandering these *cobblestone alleys feels like stepping into a history textbook that's been left in a snowdrift. beautiful? absolutely. cozy? not so much when your coffee is turning into sludge in the cup. spent yesterday chasing the perfect brew like a ghost hunter chasing EVPs. most places are serving something that tastes like regret and instant powder. i mean, come on. this city traded silk for lukewarm swill?
"try the chai at the chaihana near the labi hauz. don't look at the tea leaves, just drink it. fast."
and someone told me about this hidden spot tucked behind a carpet shop - 'Coffee House No. 7' - where the owner allegedly uses beans smuggled from ethiopia. but locals warned me he refuses service to anyone who orders milk-based drinks after 10am. something about 'preserving the bean's integrity.' like coffee is a sacred relic. found a place called The Daily Grind though? their pour-over was passable. if you get bored, samarkand is only a short drive away. or you could attempt the border crossing to turkmenistan for an entirely different kind of headache.
"if you see a guy selling samosas outside the minaret? don't buy the ones with the green chili. your insides will riot."
heard whispers on Yelp about this place serving 'authentic bukharian coffee' but when i showed up, it was just turkish coffee with extra sugar. i mean, really? then i found this tiny place where the barista roasted his own beans. didn't speak english but made me the best cup i've had since leaving portland. worth the finger-numbing wait. also, stumbled on TripAdvisor reviews warning about the plov at Plov Center being 'all show, no soul'. turns out they weren't kidding. rice was practically raw. felt like a betrayal.
pressure's at 1020 hpa which apparently means the weather's gonna stay as welcoming as a brick wall*. humidity's 58% - feels like breathing through a wet sponge. the ground level pressure's dropped to 897 though. locals say that means a storm's brewing. or maybe it's just the barista's judgmental stare when i asked for almond milk. either way, i'm considering brewing my own beans in the hotel room kettle. risky move, but when your coffee options are 'burnt regret' or 'syrupy sadness', you gotta get creative.
found this gem of a resource on Uzbekistan's coffee culture though. turns out the real stuff's usually robusta-based. explains the bitterness. also saw mention of bukhara tourism board listing hidden cafes. might be worth a spelunking expedition tomorrow. if i survive the night with this instant coffee, that is. fingers crossed my french press survives the flight. otherwise, it's back to chewing beans raw. survival mode: activated.
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