Menengiç: The Wild Pistachio and the Coffee That Isn't Coffee

If you spend enough time wandering the hills of Lycia, sooner or later you will come across a small tree carrying berries of almost every colour at once.

Some are green.

Some are fuchsia, pink.

Some are bright crimson, red.

Some are dark purple, almost black.

At certain times of the year, the leaves join the display, adding flashes of orange, crimson and deep red to the Mediterranean landscape.

This is menengiç, the wild pistachio (Pistacia terebinthus).

Most people walk straight past it without ever noticing. Yet this humble little tree has fed shepherds, supplied soap makers, supported pistachio orchards and produced a coffee that isn't really coffee at all.

Like many things in the Mediterranean, it has a surprisingly colourful history.

Most travellers know pistachios. Few know about their tough wild cousin. Menengiç grows naturally across the rocky hills and mountains of Türkiye, surviving drought, heat and poor soils where many other trees would simply give up.

On our tours, guests occasionally get to taste roasted menengiç alongside other traditional trail snacks such as carob, mulberries, raisins and roasted chickpeas.

Most assume they are black pepper.

They are entirely wrong.

Roasted lightly, the fruits become a crunchy, salty snack. Once you start eating them, it is surprisingly difficult to stop.

Roast them further and something unexpected happens.

They become coffee.

Well, not exactly coffee.

The roasted fruits are ground into a paste and prepared in much the same way as Turkish coffee. The resulting drink contains neither coffee beans nor caffeine, yet it has been enjoyed for generations across Anatolia.

Many people prepare it with milk, creating a creamy drink with a rich nutty flavour. In parts of southeastern Türkiye it is also known as Kurdish Coffee.

Long before flat whites, espresso bars and coffee chains appeared on every corner, villagers and shepherds relied on what the land provided. When imported coffee was expensive or unavailable, menengiç became a comforting alternative.

It was the coffee of the mountains.

The tree itself has an even older story.

Archaeologists have found remains of wild pistachios at Göbekli Tepe in southeastern Türkiye, one of the world's oldest known monumental archaeological sites, dating back roughly 11,500–12,000 years.

Long before the Romans arrived in Lycia, long before the first Ottoman coffee houses opened their doors, and long before anyone had heard of espresso, people were already gathering the fruits of wild pistachio trees.

Were they drinking menengiç coffee?

Nobody knows.

But it is tempting to imagine that one of humanity's oldest gathering places may also have been home to some of the world's earliest experiments with a hot drink.

And the story does not end there.

The oil from the fruits is traditionally used to make Bıttım Soap, a famous natural soap from southeastern Türkiye. The tree is also widely used as rootstock for commercial pistachio orchards because of its strength and resistance to drought.

It has even given us a word that many people know without realizing where it came from. The English word turpentine ultimately traces its roots back to the terebinth tree, whose aromatic resin was collected and used for centuries in varnishes, medicines and other products.

In other words, many of the pistachios enjoyed around the world still depend on their tough wild ancestor growing quietly on the hillsides of Türkiye.

Like carob, capers and wild oregano, menengiç is one of those plants that tells the story of Mediterranean life. A story of making use of what nature provides. A story of shepherds, villages and simple solutions to difficult times.

So next time you spot a small tree carrying berries of every colour on a Lycian hillside, take a closer look.

You may be looking at a tree that can become a snack, a coffee, a soap and even the origin of the word turpentine.

Not bad for a handful of berries growing on a rocky Lycian hillside.