Şekirklo: The Kurdish Sugar Candy and the Sweetness That Opens Every Door

Jamal Latif
May 31
6 min read

Şekirklo: The Kurdish Sugar Candy and the Sweetness That Opens Every Door

Every guest who arrives at a Kurdish home is offered tea. And with the tea — or before it, or alongside it — there is something sweet. In the Kurdish tradition, sweet things are not the conclusion of a meal but its opening: the first offer, the first taste, the literal expression of welcome before a word of hospitality has been spoken. In the çayxane of Sulaymaniyah and the living rooms of Van and the diaspora apartments of Stockholm, the same grammar applies: you arrive, you sit, the tea comes, and with it something sweet in the mouth. This is not accident. It is the Kurdish understanding that the sweetness of welcome is not a metaphor — it is a flavour, and it should be tasted. The specific Kurdish sweet that travels best with tea is şekirklo (also called klo in some dialects) — homemade sugar candy, made by caramelising sugar in a pan with water, pouring it onto a tray to cool, and cutting it into small cubes. In many Kurdish homes it is made with sesame seeds or crushed walnuts stirred in before the candy sets: the sesame giving a nutty warmth, the walnut giving bitterness against the sugar. It is served with tea, placed in the saucer beside the glass, or passed in a small dish around the room. A guest places a small piece between their teeth and drinks the hot tea through it — the slow dissolution of the sugar into the dark bitter tea is one of the most specific and intimate flavours in the Kurdish hospitality tradition. The Kurdish phrase that accompanies the offering of sweet things is simply ‘may your mouth be sweet’: the wish that what the guest tastes first is sweetness. This is the one-hundred-and-forty-fifth article in the series. It covers the smallest sweet thing in the Kurdish kitchen and the largest social argument it makes.

Key Takeaways

• Şekirklo (klo) is the Kurdish homemade sugar candy — caramelised sugar cut into cubes, often with sesame or walnuts

• In Kurdish hospitality, sweetness comes first — offered to guests before speech, the opening gesture of welcome

• Eaten by holding the cube between the teeth and drinking hot tea through it — one of the most specific Kurdish flavours

• The Kurdish sweet tradition runs from şekirklo to reçel to klece to zerde to aşure — sweetness as the language of welcome

Quick Facts

Kurdish Name: Şekirklo / klo (sugar candy); şekir = sugar, klo = cube; served with çay in small dishes or saucers

Made From: Caramelised sugar, water; sometimes sesame (kunji) or walnuts (gûz) stirred in before the candy sets

How Eaten: Placed between the teeth and hot tea drunk through it; the sugar dissolves slowly into the tea

Cultural Role: The opening of welcome; sweet things come first in Kurdish hospitality; offered before conversation begins

How Şekirklo Is Made

The making of şekirklo is a domestic art that Kurdish grandmothers have practised in kitchens across all four parts of Kurdistan: sugar and water in a pan over medium-low heat, stirred continuously until the sugar melts and begins to caramelise to a pale amber. The heat must be managed carefully — too low and the sugar will not set firm; too high and it will burn to a dark, bitter candy. At the right colour — golden, fragrant, slightly sticky — the pan comes off the heat and the optional additions go in: sesame seeds, toasted until pale gold, give the candy a nutty warmth; crushed walnuts give bitterness and texture. The mixture is poured onto a greased tray or marble surface and spread to a thin, even sheet. As it cools, it firms. A knife or candy cutter divides it into small cubes or diamond shapes. The finished şekirklo is pale amber with a gentle caramel flavour — not the sharp sweetness of white sugar, but the rounded, slightly complex sweetness of caramelised sugar that has passed through heat and emerged on the other side of itself. Stored in a cool place, it keeps for weeks. It is placed in small dishes on the coffee table, set in the saucer beside a glass of tea, or passed around a room on a small plate when guests arrive. The way to eat şekirklo with tea is specific: you place a small piece between the front teeth, hold it there, and take a sip of hot, strong black tea. The heat of the tea slowly dissolves the candy through the teeth, the sugar meeting the tea’s bitterness in the mouth rather than in the glass. The flavour is not sweet tea. It is tea and sweetness experienced simultaneously, in the mouth, by the person drinking. It is a private, specific, and intimate flavour — one that every Kurdish person who grew up in a Kurdish home has in their sense-memory as the first taste of welcome.

The Grammar of Kurdish Sweetness

This series has covered the full arc of Kurdish sweetness, article by article. Reçel — the jam — is the sweetness of the breakfast table, offered every morning with bread. Klêce — the Eid cookie — is the sweetness of religious celebration, made in advance and given away. Zerde — the saffron pudding — is the sweetness of the Newroz table, golden and fragrant. Helawî — the flour halva — is the sweetness of mourning, made in grief and shared in community. Aşure — Noah’s pudding — is the sweetness of the forty neighbours, made in abundance and given away. Dûşav — grape molasses — is the sweetness of the autumn pantry, the concentrated grape harvest. And şekirklo is the sweetness that precedes all of them: the first taste, the opening of the door. In Kurdish culture, the way a guest’s arrival is met with something sweet is not incidental. The phrase ‘may your mouth be sweet’ — a Kurdish blessing offered when giving sweet things — is the most direct linguistic expression of the hospitality principle: that the first experience of a Kurdish welcome should be sweetness. Not fullness, not warmth, not safety — sweetness. The Kurdish kitchen, which this series has covered from the olive that started civilisation to the wheat beaten all night for a wedding, ultimately speaks in this first language: the small amber candy held between the teeth, the hot dark tea dissolving it, and the mouth of the guest, sweetened.

Frequently Asked Questions

What is şekirklo?

Şekirklo (klo) is the Kurdish homemade sugar candy — sugar caramelised with water, sometimes with sesame seeds or crushed walnuts added, poured onto a tray to cool and set, then cut into small cubes. It is served with tea: the traditional Kurdish way is to place a small cube between the teeth and drink hot tea through it, allowing the sugar to dissolve slowly in the mouth. It is the customary sweet offered to guests at the start of a visit.

Why do sweet things come first in Kurdish hospitality?

In Kurdish culture, sweetness is associated with welcome, blessing, and the desire that the guest’s experience be good. The phrase ‘may your mouth be sweet’ is a direct verbal expression of this: the host wishes sweetness onto the guest as a blessing, and the offering of şekirklo or jam or sweet tea is the physical enactment of that wish. Sweet things are offered first — before food, before the main meal — because the sweetness of welcome is understood as the first quality of any good arrival.

What is the full Kurdish sweet tradition?

The Kurdish kitchen has a rich sweet tradition that covers every occasion: reçel (jam) for the morning table; klêce (Eid cookies) for religious celebrations; zerde (saffron pudding) for Newroz; helawî (flour halva) for mourning; aşure (Noah’s pudding) for Muharram; dûşav (grape molasses) for the autumn pantry; and şekirklo for the first taste of every welcome. Each sweet occupies a specific social and seasonal moment. Together they form a language of sweetness through which Kurdish culture expresses its calendar, its values, and its hospitality.

Conclusion

Şekirklo is the one-hundred-and-forty-fifth article in the series, and the smallest. It is a small amber cube of caramelised sugar, sometimes with sesame, sometimes with walnut, placed in a saucer beside a glass of tea and offered to a guest before anything else has been said. It is the opening word of the Kurdish welcome vocabulary. This series has covered one hundred and forty-five foods and food traditions of the Kurdish kitchen, from the olive that started civilisation to the wheat beaten for a wedding. All of them are, in different ways, expressions of the same thing that şekirklo expresses most simply: that to come to a Kurdish table is to have your mouth sweetened first. The food can wait. The sweetness cannot.