Between myth and history – Polish coffee in Vienna

In the story of Jerzy Franciszek Kulczycki, truth blends seamlessly with myths and embellished legends. This does not alter the fact that he is widely recognised in the annals of history as the man who may have pioneered the coffeehouse trade in Vienna.

Jerzy Franciszek Kulczycki (also Kólczycki, and in the German version: Georg Franz Kolschitzky) was a nobleman, translator and soldier, whose life is shrouded in a considerable aura of legend and mystery. Furthermore, the question of his nationality has for years been the subject of heated debate amongst various scholars. Kulczycki, who was most likely born in Kulczyce near Sambor, is said to have regarded himself as a ‘native Pole’.

On the other hand, despite the fact that he probably hailed from the Catholic branch of the Kólczycki family, Ukrainian researchers regard him as Ukrainian. Researchers from Austria and Hungary, meanwhile, attribute Serbian or Austrian (of Polish origin). This tug-of-war over Kulczycki’s identity has a specific basis, as we are talking about a figure who has left a positive mark on the pages of history in many different ways.

Unfortunately, not much is known about Kulczycki’s early life; it is thought that he arrived in Vienna from Serbia and worked as an interpreter of, amongst other languages, Turkish and Hungarian. During the Siege of Vienna in 1683, Kulczycki became a spy – disguised as a Turkish soldier, he was to make his way through the enemy camp and then reach the Duke of Lorraine, Charles V Leopold. Odeń received word of the approaching relief force and returned with this information to the besieged city. It was for this reason that the authorities in Vienna decided against surrendering the city to Kara Mustafa.

And this, in turn, was linked to the Battle of Vienna, with which we are all familiar, in which the Polish King Jan III Sobieski took part. It was decided to reward Kulczycki for his courageous mission; thus, in addition to his fame amongst the Viennese townspeople, he was granted burgher’s rights, the post of imperial Turkish interpreter, and a plot of land on which to build a house. And here we come to a key element of the myth surrounding Kulczycki: after the battle against the Turkish forces, according to some accounts, Jan III Sobieski himself is said to have asked Kulczycki what reward he would like.

He is said to have chosen sacks of coffee beans, which the Viennese regarded as camel fodder. And so it was that Jerzy Franciszek Kulczycki opened the first coffee house in Vienna. It was to be called ‘Under the Blue Bottle’. Interestingly, as the story of Kulczycki goes, the townspeople did not initially like the taste of the coffee – it was bitter and black. Kulczycki therefore decided to alter its flavour slightly, first by adding honey and sugar, and finally: milk. Vienna naturally became the coffee-house capital of Europe, and Kulczycki himself

– the patron of those involved in the trade. What’s more, before his death he was said to have opened as many as three cafés – first on Singerstrasse, then at Domgasse 6, which disappeared from the city map after just a year; and finally on Schlossergasse – namely ‘Under the Blue Bottle’, which is said to have operated between 1686 and 1696.

It is worth noting that in Lviv, for example, there is a statue of Kulczycki, dressed as a Turkish soldier, holding coffee beans in his hand. Kulczycki can also be found, amongst other places, on the Viennese mosaic on

Laxenburger Straße, and – at the junction of Favoritenstraße and Kolschitzkygasse (!) – a statue of Kulczycki on the corner façade of one of the buildings. Finally, Kulczycki has been immortalised in several paintings and engravings, always in Turkish dress, as this is linked to his mission during the Siege of Vienna.

So much for the legend, but what about alternative history? Well, apart from disputes over Kulczycki’s nationality, there is also a counter-narrative to the ‘founding myth’ centred on the Pole. According to a certain Austrian-Czech researcher, Karl Teply, it was not Kulczycki who opened Vienna’s first café, but a certain Johannes Theodat, an Armenian merchant who pioneered the ‘coffee business’. And what of Kulczycki? According to Teply, the whole story was invented by Gottfried Uhlich in 1783 in the journal *Geschichte der zweyten türkischen Belagerung Wiens, bey der hundertjährigen Gedächtnißfeyer: Mit Kupfern, nebst zweenen Planen*.

What’s more, to sell coffee, one needed a licence, and Kulczycki probably did not obtain one. The first licence of this kind was issued in 1685, and certainly not in the name of our hero. Unless, of course, he did not actually run a café as such, but sold coffee as part of what might be called street food. Unfortunately, no information on this subject has survived. However, just one year after Johannes Theodat opened his café, it was ‘Kolschitzky’ who was also granted the privilege of serving coffee, as well as a 20-year tax exemption. Unfortunately, there are no documents to indicate whether Kulczycki made use of this privilege. Theodat himself, not long afterwards, was unfortunately forced to flee Vienna, as he was accused of treason and espionage, as a result of which he ended up in Venice.

So what are we to make of a story in which facts, interpretations, omissions and, ultimately, the historical game of Chinese whispers are all jumbled together? We do not know for certain whether it was Kulczycki who opened the first European café in Vienna. What we do know, however, with a high degree of probability, is that he may well have opened one of the first cafés where – according to legend – he served coffee with milk in a style that later evolved into the ‘Wiener Melange’, similar to a cappuccino.

Regardless of how we view these stories, Kulczycki has a real place in Vienna in the form of a monument on a façade or an entire street. Although certain aspects of his life may have become shrouded in myth, Kulczycki himself was by no means a legendary figure; at most, there were gaps in his biography that were filled with stories not necessarily rooted entirely in reality. Let’s also take a look at one way of making the aforementioned Wiener Melange.

The coffee we need should be quite mild – certainly milder than the sort we’d use to make a cappuccino. The drink itself, however, resembles its Italian counterpart in that it is based on brewed coffee and partially frothed milk. Unlike, for example, a latte macchiato, we do not pour the coffee into the milk here; instead, we first pour a portion of coffee into the cup and then add the frothed milk.

It’s worth noting that even in Vienna, when ordering a ‘Wiener Melange’, you might be served… a Franziskaner coffee, which is served with whipped cream. Finally, it’s worth noting that a combination of different types of frothed milk is often used, so that part of it is creamy foam (micro-foam similar to that used in a latte), and part is heavily frothed foam on top (which is why some cafés top it with whipped cream), which – much like in a cappuccino – may protrude slightly above the rim of the cup, is firmer and does not dissolve so easily in the coffee.