I sought a place to collapse and eat after a day of haplessly wandering Sarajevo map-less and on foot. The choice was made simple when I spotted a man standing in the doorway of his Buregdzinica. He wore a lab coat. I liked the idea of eating in a place where food was treated as a science.

After my gestures to order, he flipped burek onto a scale, then tossed it again onto a plate. I didn’t want to know the weight of the portion he felt would suit me, so I just accepted it with a good American smile.

His radio frequently lost the signal and became static.He wandered to a table and hit his newspaper so it would lie flat. He and a friend pored over the news and a betting form, his friend occasionally dashing out for change, then returning with beers from across the square.