My late grandma owned a small family-run coffee plantation in Bali, so practically every and anyone there survived on coffee. My family spent an obligatory vacation month during summer break every year in my grandma's house. The best thing about waking up was smelling roasted coffee beans, because my grandma's sister would be roasting them in a giant wok on top of a stone pit fueled with coconut shells and chipped wood.
My childhood memory of "tea" time there was my grandma setting lines of thick low-ball (rock) glasses on the dais in the kitchen for her entire family (my uncles' and aunts', and mine, she had a massive house so everyone would gather there). She put 1 heaped Tbsp of ground coffee into each one, followed by 3 tsp of sugar before she poured boiling water from an ominous looking ancient black kettle. After stirring, we had to wait about 5 minutes to let all the grounds settled. Then, we took a sip and spit out any coffee grounds that still floated on top.
Yeah, she didn't ask how you would like your coffee. Nope. She just went ahead and prepared it the way she liked it, and as you probably had guessed, it did taste like sweetened mud.
But she made plenty of homemade sweets and cakes to make up for it.
After I grew up and could actually appreciate it properly, I like my coffee black and strong. I love Arabica varieties from Bali, Sumatra, Kenya, and Colombia.
What about you?