Proper coffee

As Huw and I left the Syrian pastry shop with our loot, we were invited by this chap to take a cup of coffee from his stall. All roasted and hand-ground on the spot. The coffee was as good as any I've tasted. He would not let me put sugar in it, gesturing that it would send me to sleep. Maybe wise, as I had a six-hour drive to come, on a hot day.