Armean cu parfum de cafea – An Armenian with a coffee scent


Este greu de stiut de ce in decursul anilor cafeaua s-a lipit de armean ca marca de scrisoare. Cert este ca in trecut nu exista orasel oricat de umil care sa nu aiba o pravalioara din care sa navaleasca in ulita aroma imbietoare a cafelei proaspat prajite iar, in spatele masinii de rasnit cafea sa troneze un armean amabil, gata sa-ti ofere vreo 3-4 soiuri de cafea de cea mai “extra” calitate.



O asemenea pravalie exista bineinteles si pe Calea Mosilor, nu departe de intersectia cu strada Mihail Eminescu si, se numea “Zadic“, dupa numele patronului. Totul era aranjat dupa tipicul pravaliilor cu delicatesuri. Mai multe sorturi de cafea boabe stateau in saci de iuta cu buzele larg rasfrante, saculeti cu alune “americane“ si “turcesti”, stafide, rahat, halva, bomboane umplute si bomboane “spirtoase” (niciodata nu am inteles de ce le spunea asa, ca nu aveau nici o picatura de spirt), biscuiti, caramele, sticle cu bauturi fine si, lista poate continua mult.

Muradian zadic

Domnul Zadic era un barbat bine cladit iar, zambetul sau larg oferea privelistea unei adevarate comori din dinti de aur. Cand intram in magazinul sau si era ocupat cu alti clienti, imi facea complice cu ochiul si ma chema dupa tejghea ca sa-mi umple buzunarul sortului de scoala cu alune, asta ca sa nu ma plictisesc pana imi venea randul la servit. Rontaiam alune si ma holbam la feluritele cutii din rafturi, cu desene reprezentand peisaje din meleaguri exotice, frumos colorate si, care combinate cu aromele din pravalie ma duceau cu gandul foarte departe de lumea reala.

Fragment din cartea “Mahala, cuib de vise” – de Sevag Hairabedian – Ed. Ararat – 2006 (publicat cu acordul autorului)

English version

An Armenian with a coffee scent

It is hard to know why over the years coffee stuck to Armenian as a letter mark. It is certain that in the past there was no small town, no matter how humble, that did not have a small shop from which the intoxicating aroma of freshly roasted coffee wafted into the street and, behind the coffee grinder, a kind Armenian sat on the throne, ready to offer you about 3 – 4 varieties of coffee of the most “extra” quality. Of course, a similar shop also exists on Calea Mosilor, not far from the intersection with Mihail Eminescu street, and it was called “Zadic”, after the owner’s name. Everything was arranged according to the typical pravalis with delicacies. Several varieties of coffee beans sat in jute bags with wide lips, bags of “American” and “Turkish” hazelnuts, raisins, shit, halva, stuffed candies and “spirit” candies (I never understood why they called them that , because they didn’t have a drop of spirit), biscuits, caramels, bottles of fine drinks and, the list can go on and on. Muradian Zadic Mr. Zadic was a well-built man and his broad smile offered the sight of a real treasure of gold teeth. When I entered his shop and he was busy with other customers, he winked at me and called me to the counter to fill my school bag with peanuts, so that I wouldn’t get bored until it was my turn to be served. I was munching on peanuts and staring at the various boxes on the shelves, with drawings representing landscapes from exotic lands, beautifully colored and which, combined with the aromas of the valley, took me far away from the real world. Excerpt from the book “Mahala, nest of dreams” – by Sevag Hairabedian – Ed. Ararat – 2006 (published with the author’s consent)

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