Nargiles soon became important status symbols. Offering one to a guest became an important sign of trust, and withholding it could be taken as a serious insult. In 1841 a diplomatic crisis broke out between France and the Ottoman Empire after the Sultan declined to offer the French Ambassador a chance to smoke with him.

The advent of the cigarette, a development that many nargile smokers consider one of the most deplorable in human history, forever changed the way Turks use tobacco. But at places like the Erzurum Salon, named after a town in Anatolia, old ways are still respected and old pleasures still enjoyed.

There is not much noise inside. Conversation is only occasional, and always soft. The sound of dominoes being played or backgammon tokens being moved is often all that competes with the soft gurgle of bubbling water. Some patrons work absently on crossword puzzles and others seem lost in contemplation.

No alcohol is served, as is traditional in nargile cafes, and smokers usually sip coffee or tea as they puff. Every few hours the Muslim call to prayer issues from the Molla Celebi Mosque nearby, and about half the patrons leave, returning after their devotions.

The Erzurum salon was opened more than half a century ago by an Armenian immigrant whose son, Recep Hacioglu, is the present owner and whose grandson, Yilmaz Hacioglu, 36, expects to follow in the family tradition. When urban renewal forced it to move to its present location near the Bosporus in 1991, its clientele faithfully followed.

Behind the counter are nearly 60 nargiles, most available to all, but some belonging to customers for whose exclusive use they are reserved. When a patron arrives, the manager, Yasar Guler, selects a nargile, cleans it and wraps a handful of damp tobacco around the stone bowl.

Older patrons, he says, usually prefer strong Turkish tobacco grown on plantations near the Syrian border, while many younger ones ask for aromatic apple or cherry blends imported from Egypt and Bahrain.