Anyway an elderly gent stood next to me and said 'I have a coffee story....' and it went something like this:
"When I was in Arabia, I stayed with Bedouins in the desert. Coffe making was a real ritual. Their whole process started with a click of the fingers. The mans wife would come with a pouch full of beans that was on a cord around her wist. He would then put them in a frying pan and roast them over a fire. After that he would get his bowl and cruch them. As he did this he would tap out a rhythm. Every man in the tribe had his own rhythm so they all knew that 'Joe' was doing a brew!
NExt he would boil it up in a little pot. After a few minutes he would put it in another one that has cardemon in it and boil it again. He would then get some date palm husk to use as a filter and pour the coffee into a cup ike that one (a demitasse).
He would only fill it half way so that you did not burn your fingers when you pick it up. You could tell if he was annoyed with someone because he would fill it up to the brim so they woul scould their fingers!"
At that he went to sit with his wife. Just a short nice story that lifted my day.
