A bunch of us are sitting at Klaudio’s and talking about all kinds of exotic foods and drinks. It is late at night, and there is nowhere in Motovun to have a bite, but we are getting ever more hungry as we keep drinking. At some point someone mentions boza, a Turkish drink made from fermented corn. “There was a guy in Prizren,” jumps in Eni Nurkollari, “whose boza was unsurpassed by anyone else’s in town.” Prizren in southern Kosovo is where Eni grew up. “His name was Hajji Irfan,” he continues, “and his recipe was his secret.” People would come from far and wide for the fabulous drink. “But last year he died,” Eni raised his voice a bit, “and he took his recipe with him.” The story delighted me for some reason. “Good for him,” I exclaimed, “good for him!” Everyone around the table looked at me, but no-one commented on my enthusiasm. Hajji Irfan’s lost recipe will keep me guessing, as well.