The Jews in the East observe, with the greatest strictness, all the outward forms of their religion, and particularly those relating to food, whose preparation is regulated by a great many strange and complicated laws.
All flesh is Tourfa, or unclean, unless the animal has been killed in the presence of a Rabbi, who hands to the butcher a special knife (after having examined the animal in order to ascertain if it be clean or unclean) with which he must sever the windpipe at a single stroke; should he fail to do so the animal is considered unclean and cannot be eaten. Even in case of success, parts of the flesh only are acceptable to them, and all the fat adhering to the muscles must be removed before it is cooked. Cheese, wine, and sundry other provisions are not considered clean unless made by Israelites; butter is seldom bought, and only when sold in skins with the hairy side turned inwards. Six hours must elapse before a Hebrew can touch cheese, milk, or butter after having partaken of meat, though he is at liberty to eat meat directly after these. The dishes are cooked in sesame oil, an ingredient that renders them quite distasteful to any but Jewish palates; this oil is also used for making pastry, which is very heavy and indigestible. In fact, their cookery is so peculiar and unpalatable that when a Jew entertains Gentiles he generally resorts to foreign dishes. When a Turk or Christian wishes to extend his hospitality to an Israelite, he is obliged to have most of the food prepared by a cook of the Hebrew faith.
A duty on all that is Tourfa is imposed by the Rabbi of each community; this tax, amounting to a considerable sum, is set apart for charitable purposes, and for the support of schools for the poor. It is, on the whole, a strange kind of charity, for after all it is only taking the money out of the pockets of the poor in one form to give it back to them in another, and the tax falls heavily on the Jewish communities, since they are principally composed of poor people. Several attempts have been made by them, especially in Salonika, to have it removed, but hitherto their efforts have been fruitless.
The hospitality of the Jews is, with a few exceptions, limited to members of their own race, and even then not very largely practised. The customs of the Israelites who have received a European education differ very little from those of the Franks.
During the numerous journeys I have had occasion to make in Turkey I have always found genuine and hearty hospitality offered to me both by Turks and Christians. I generally accepted that of the latter, as it is more in unison with our own customs and habits. Every effort was made on the part of my entertainers to please me and anticipate my wants, and I have often been both delighted and surprised to find in the heart of barbarous little towns such comforts as a bedstead, basin, and table service, besides other articles, the use of which did not always appear quite clear to their possessors. In one Bulgarian house, for instance, I was offered wine in a feeding-bottle, which was handed in turn to the rest of the company. This ludicrous utensil would probably have been refused if fate had not ordained me to be the first baby to drink from it.
As a contrast to this incident I must not forget to mention one of a far superior order. Passing through Sofia, I put up at the house of a wealthy Bulgarian Chorbadji; it was a large building, pretty comfortably furnished, and very neat and clean in appearance. Scarcely had I rested the needful time after my journey and partaken of Slatko, or preserved fruit, and coffee, when my hostess came to ask if I were not desirous of taking a bath of milk and rose-water. This proposal, denoting such a high standard of luxury, took me by surprise, and my desire to know its origin exceeded the wish of taking immediate advantage of it. The question had to be solved, and I thought the best way of explaining it would be to ask my hostess if this was an indispensable part of the toilet of the élite. It was now her turn to look surprised. “Oh, dear no, Gospoyer,” she exclaimed, “I made the offer believing it to be one of your own customs, as two English maidens who lodged in my house some time ago daily made use of what they called ‘a most refreshing and indispensable luxury.’ Oh, dear no, Gospoyer,” she repeated, “we are too thrifty a people to think of wasting a quantity of good milk that could be converted into so much cheese and butter; but you Franks are an extravagant race.” There was a good deal of truth in what she said, so, making a compromise in these good things, I willingly accepted the offer of the rose-water, which is plentiful in the town, as Sofia is not far from the principal rose-growing districts.
Autre pays, autres mœurs. During a flying visit I paid to Kara Hissar, in Asia Minor, I took up my quarters at the house of an opium-growing grandee. The dinner offered to me was good, and even refined, but for a slight but peculiar flavor to which I was unaccustomed; I partook of it heartily, and afterwards, in order to please my hostess, accepted a cigarette. Presently I felt a strange languor creeping over me, my head whirled, my ears began to tingle, my eyesight dimmed, and, my eyelids heavily closing, I soon found myself in the fool’s paradise of opium-eaters. All sorts of sweet dreams took possession of my imagination, crossed by the most ludicrous thoughts and desires. I imagined that trains were running down my arms; next my travelling-boots, which I had exchanged for slippers, attracted my attention, and although not very large, they took to my deluded vision the proportions of a grotto, towards which I made a desperate rush, and soon felt exhausted with the efforts I made to enter it. My hostess took the form of a rat, from whose presence I vainly tried to escape; I went towards the open window, where the pure night-air somewhat refreshed me, and the twinkle of the myriad bright stars raised my mind to higher thoughts, and sensations of an indescribably delicious character took possession of me. I became poetical, and surprised my entertainers by my declamations which, needless to say, were quite unintelligible to them. I finally retired to rest, and sleep overtaking me consigned all to oblivion. On awaking next morning, I felt very uncomfortable; in fact, I was ill. The meal of which I had partaken had been cooked in poppy-oil, always used for the purpose in that part of the country, and said not to have any effect on the inhabitants, who are accustomed to it from childhood. The cigarette, it appeared, was also strongly impregnated with the same narcotic. Let my experience be a warning to travellers in the opium-growing country.
It is the custom throughout Turkey to offer as refreshment the Tatlou, a rich kind of preserve made from fruits, or flowers such as roses, lilies, violets, and orange-blossoms. It is brought in soon after the entrance of a visitor. The service used for the purpose may be of the most costly or of the simplest description; that used in Turkish harems is always of some precious metal, and comprises a salver, two preserve basins, a double spoon-basket, and a number of goblets and spoons. The edge of the salver, like that used for the coffee, is surrounded by a gold-embroidered cloth; the slave who offers it does so on bended knee.
In addition to the Tatlou, in Turkish Konaks, sherbet, immediately followed by coffee, is offered to visitors when about to leave or when the hostess is desirous of being relieved of their company. This beverage is made from the juices of fruits, cooled with ice; it is brought in on a tray in goblets. A number of slaves holding richly embroidered napkins (on one end of which the goblet is placed, resting on the palm of the hand), offer the cup to the guests, who wipe their lips on the other end. A fermented drink, called Boza, made from millet seed, is very largely consumed by the lower orders; it is of two kinds, tatlou and ekshi, sweet and sour. The latter, possessing intoxicating properties, is thick and muddy, and has a peculiar earthy taste.
Wine, both good and abundant, is consumed in moderation by Jews, Christians, and Europeans, and of late years “La Jeune Turquie” has manifested a decided partiality for it. Turks generally dine in the Selamlik, where those who are addicted to drink (a custom prevalent among the higher orders) begin some hours before the evening meal to partake freely of mezzeliks, which they wash down with copious draughts of raki. It is not rare to find Turks who have never tasted wine or spirits in their lives; but one seldom hears of a Turk once addicted to their use who does not nightly make a gross abuse of them, a habit which tends greatly to increase the vices of Turkish society. It is repugnant to point out the many evils that result from such orgies, and would be still more so to illustrate them with the many incidents that have come under my notice.