Hoşaf & Komposto: Turkey's Fruit Compote Drinks (Recipe)

Hoşaf is a Turkish compote made by simmering dried fruit — raisins, apricots, figs — in lightly sweetened water. Komposto is the same idea made with fresh fruit. Both are served chilled in small bowls beside pilav and meat dishes, and hoşaf anchors many Ramadan iftar tables.

Part of our Turkish recipes guide.

Open a Turkish family's fridge an hour before dinner and you'll often find a lidded bowl of amber liquid, plump raisins settled at the bottom like river stones. That's hoşaf. It has been cooling tables since the Ottoman palace kitchens, and it still shows up beside Sunday pilav in Turkish-American homes from New Jersey to Los Angeles.

Below: what actually separates hoşaf from komposto, why Turks insist on serving a sweet compote next to beans and rice, and a tested recipe for each. Active cooking time is about 35 minutes. The fridge does the rest.

Key Takeaways

• Hoşaf simmers dried fruit; komposto simmers fresh fruit. One technique, two seasons.
• Both are eaten and drunk: you spoon up the fruit, then sip the chilled syrup straight from the bowl.
• The classic Anatolian lunch trio is kuru fasulye (white bean stew), rice pilav, and a bowl of hoşaf.
• Plan on roughly 35 minutes of cooking plus a 2-hour chill; both keep 4–5 days in the fridge.
• During Ramadan, hoşaf earns its place at iftar because it's cold, light, and gentle after a day of fasting.

What Is the Difference Between Hoşaf and Komposto?

The short answer is the fruit bowl. Hoşaf — from the Persian hoş âb, "pleasant water" — is built on dried fruit: raisins, apricots, figs, prunes. Komposto, a later borrowing from the French compote, uses fresh fruit: sour cherries in June, peaches in August, quince once the weather turns.

The flavors land differently, too. Twenty minutes of simmering pulls caramel and honey notes out of dried fruit, so hoşaf drinks deep and mellow. Komposto stays bright. A sour cherry komposto has a tartness that snaps against the sugar.

One more thing trips up American cooks: neither one is what a Western cookbook calls compote. There's no thick spoon fruit here, nothing to ladle over pancakes. Turkish hoşaf and komposto are thin, generous with their liquid, and closer to a drink with fruit waiting at the bottom.

Why Do Turks Serve Hoşaf with Pilav and Meat?

Because rich food needs a cold counterpoint. Buttery pilav, slow-cooked beans, roasted lamb — they coat the tongue. A spoonful of chilled, sweet-tart hoşaf between bites resets everything, the way a pickle resets a pastrami sandwich.

In Anatolian lunch spots the order comes out almost as one word: kuru fasulye, pilav, hoşaf. Beans for the protein, rice for the comfort, hoşaf for relief. There's also an older habit, said to go back to Ottoman soldiers' mess tables, of pouring raisin hoşaf straight over the rice — hoşaflı pilav — and you'll still meet it at village weddings in parts of Central Anatolia.

Ramadan gives hoşaf its biggest stage. On many iftar tables it sits ready before the call to prayer, right after the dates and water — something cold and easy on a stomach that has waited since dawn. It belongs to a wider family of Turkish table drinks, alongside ayran and şalgam; we map the whole lineup in our Turkish drinks guide.

For Turks in the US, hoşaf is also one of the quiet homesickness foods. It rarely makes restaurant menus here, so if you want that exact taste — the clove-scented syrup, the last raisin you chase around the bowl with a spoon — you make it yourself. The good news: it's a 35-minute job built entirely from pantry ingredients, and it tastes the same in a Chicago kitchen as it does in Kayseri.

Which Fruits Make the Best Hoşaf and Komposto?

For hoşaf, start with raisins. Üzüm hoşafı is the benchmark version, and sultanas from the Aegean region around Manisa give the cleanest honeyed flavor. Dried apricots — Malatya grows the ones Turks brag about — add a soft apricot-jam roundness. Figs bring body and tiny crunchy seeds. Prunes darken the syrup and lean it toward winter.

A good mix rule: two sweet fruits, one with an edge. Raisins plus apricots plus a few prunes rarely misses.

For komposto, sour cherry is the one Turks get homesick for. Quince is the winter move — simmered slowly, the pale slices blush pink and perfume the whole pot. Apple with a clove or two is the everyday version, and peach komposto in July needs barely ten minutes on the stove.

How Do You Make Classic Hoşaf? (Raisin & Apricot)

This is the house version: raisins for sweetness, apricots for body, a clove and a cinnamon stick for warmth. Serves 6.

Ingredients

• 1 cup raisins or sultanas
• 8 dried apricots, halved
• 6 dried figs, quartered (optional)
• 6 cups cold water
• 1/3 cup sugar (taste first — sweet fruit may need less, or none)
• 2 whole cloves
• 1 small cinnamon stick
• 1 strip of lemon peel (optional)

Steps

1. Rinse the dried fruit in a colander under cold water.
2. Bring the water and sugar to a boil in a medium pot, stirring once to dissolve.
3. Add the fruit, cloves, and cinnamon stick. Return to a gentle boil.
4. Simmer uncovered for 20–25 minutes, until the fruit is plump and the liquid is lightly syrupy. Don't push past that — overcooked figs cloud the syrup.
5. Off the heat, tuck in the lemon peel and let the pot cool to room temperature.
6. Chill at least 2 hours. Serve cold in small bowls, making sure every bowl gets some of each fruit.

Three habits separate good hoşaf from great. Keep the simmer lazy — a hard boil shreds the apricots into rags. Go easy on the spice; two cloves really are enough for six cups, and a third starts tasting like potpourri. And cook it the night before if you can, because the syrup on day two carries noticeably more fruit.

How Do You Make Komposto with Fresh Fruit?

Same pot, shorter clock. Fresh fruit collapses fast, and good komposto keeps its fruit in whole, recognizable pieces.

For the beloved sour cherry version: bring 5 cups of water and 1/2 cup of sugar to a boil, add 1 pound of pitted sour cherries (frozen work fine straight from the bag), and simmer just 10–12 minutes. The syrup turns a deep garnet. Cool, chill, done.

Two seasonal swaps worth knowing. Quince: peel, slice, and simmer 30–40 minutes with the sugar — it's the one fruit that wants more time, and it rewards you by turning pink. Apple: chunks of a firm apple, one or two cloves, 15 minutes, and you have the komposto most Turkish kids grew up drinking after school.

How Do You Serve and Store Them?

Serve both ice-cold, in small glass or porcelain bowls with a spoon in each. At dinner, set a bowl at every place the way you'd set a water glass. Fruit first, then lift the bowl and drink the syrup — nobody will blink.

Both keep, covered, 4–5 days in the fridge, and day two is honestly better than day one; the fruit keeps trading flavor with the syrup overnight. Leftover syrup has a second life over plain yogurt.

Frequently Asked Questions

Is hoşaf served hot or cold?

Cold, almost always. It's cooked, cooled, then chilled for at least two hours before serving. In winter some households serve it at cool room temperature, but iced hoşaf next to hot pilav is the classic contrast.

Can I make hoşaf without sugar?

Yes. Raisins and figs carry enough natural sugar that many cooks skip added sugar entirely, especially for everyday hoşaf. Taste the liquid after 15 minutes of simmering and decide then.

What's the difference between Turkish komposto and Western compote?

Texture and purpose. Western compote is thick, spoonable fruit used as a topping. Turkish komposto is thin and liquid-forward — you drink it — and it's served as its own course beside savory food, not over dessert.

What do you eat hoşaf with?

Rice pilav and kuru fasulye are the classic partners, but hoşaf works beside any rich main: roasted lamb, meatballs, stuffed peppers, börek. Anywhere you'd want a cold, sweet-tart contrast.

How long do hoşaf and komposto keep?

Four to five days in the fridge, covered. The flavor deepens on day two. If the syrup ever fizzes or smells yeasty, it has started to ferment — make a fresh pot.

Is hoşaf only for Ramadan?

No — it's a year-round table drink. Ramadan just made it famous: cold, gentle, and quick to put out, it's a natural fit for iftar. Plenty of families serve it every Sunday with no holiday in sight.