International coffee preparation atlas

Coffee simmered in a djezoua on charcoal with cinnamon ground into it, raised and settled several times, then finished off the heat with orange blossom water and vanilla.

Strong coffee served long and cold over ice with lemon — an Algerian place name, a French colonial story, and a living café habit that is now essentially Portuguese.

The boiled-decoction family as practised in Armenia and across the Armenian diaspora, made in a jazve and bound up with hospitality and with cup-reading.

Lightly roasted coffee, usually heavily spiced with cardamom and often saffron, brewed and decanted into a long-spouted dallah and poured into small handleless cups under a precise etiquette of hospitality.

The same family of unfiltered pot coffee, but built in a different order: the water is heated first, a little is set aside, the coffee goes into the hot water, and the reserved water is returned at the end.

A small, strong, pre-sweetened coffee strained through a cloth filter and offered to everyone who comes through the door — Brazil's default gesture of welcome.

Very dark coffee roasted with fat, soybean and corn, dripped through a phin or a cloth filter onto condensed milk and ice, and handed over in a plastic bag with a straw.

Grounds boiled loose in a pot over a fire and settled with a splash of cold water — the North American trail method, and a case where the folklore is better documented than the technique.

Coffee boiled in a tall narrow pot with panela, poured off the settled grounds and drunk black in small cups all day — the everyday coffee of the country that exports the good stuff.

Hot water poured by hand through a cotton bag held open on a wooden stand — a domestic cloth pour-over that predates every paper dripper on the market.

The first, strongest drops of the brew are beaten hard with sugar into a pale, thick foam, and the rest of the coffee is poured through it — sweetening and texturing the cup in one step.

Very finely ground coffee simmered with water — and, if wanted, sugar — in a small long-handled briki, poured unfiltered so the grounds settle in the cup, and drunk slowly with a glass of cold water alongside.

A heat technique rather than a drink: the briki is buried in a bed of heated sand so warmth arrives evenly through the sand instead of from a flame, giving unusually fine control over how the foam rises.

The same briki preparation as its neighbours, distinguished by a finer-grained sweetness vocabulary and by the kafeneío culture it is embedded in.

Whole coffee beans, hulls and all, deep-fried in ghee and eaten a few at a time off the palm — coffee as food rather than as a drink, and closely bound to Sufi devotional gatherings.

Very dark coffee poured through a hand-held cloth filter and served as a small strong cup or as the base of a milky café con leche — the household method of Puerto Rico and the Dominican countryside.

The Horn of Africa coffee ceremony as held in Eritrea — the same roast-grind-brew sequence and the same three rounds, under Tigrinya names, from a jebena that usually fills and pours through one opening.

A structured hosting ritual, usually an hour or more, in which green beans are roasted, ground and brewed in a clay jebena in front of guests, and served in three named rounds.

Whole coffee beans, hulls and all, deep-fried in ghee and eaten a few at a time off the palm — coffee as food rather than as a drink, and closely bound to Sufi devotional gatherings.

Coarsely ground coffee boiled directly in a pot, taken off the heat and allowed to settle before pouring — the everyday coffee of Nordic homes and, still, of anyone with a fire and a kettle.

A heat technique rather than a drink: the briki is buried in a bed of heated sand so warmth arrives evenly through the sand instead of from a flame, giving unusually fine control over how the foam rises.

Very finely ground coffee simmered with water — and, if wanted, sugar — in a small long-handled briki, poured unfiltered so the grounds settle in the cup, and drunk slowly with a glass of cold water alongside.

A heat technique rather than a drink: the briki is buried in a bed of heated sand so warmth arrives evenly through the sand instead of from a flame, giving unusually fine control over how the foam rises.

Hand-pounded coffee, often roasted with cinnamon or sugar, poured slowly through a cloth cone called a greg — a filter that folds flat, needs no electricity and is washed and reused every day.

Brewed coffee combined with cloth-strained Hong Kong milk tea in roughly a three-to-seven proportion — a drink named after a bird pair precisely because the two halves are so unalike.

A concentrated decoction dripped slowly through a two-chamber metal filter, then mixed with hot milk and sugar and pulled repeatedly between a tumbler and a dabara until it froths.

Coffee boiled straight in a pot of water and strained, drunk black in a small glass with palm jaggery and sometimes dry ginger — Kerala's everyday coffee, and not the South Indian filter coffee it is usually assumed to be.

Coffee grounds and sugar in the glass, boiling water poured straight on, no filter of any kind — Indonesia's everyday coffee, and the simplest preparation in the atlas.

A glass of tubruk finished by dropping a piece of glowing charcoal straight into it — a Yogyakarta street-cart drink named after the noise it makes.

A two-chamber stovetop pot that is turned upside down once the water boils, so gravity — not pressure — pulls the water through the coffee.

Coffee poured by hand, very slowly, through a flannel cloth held on a wire hoop — the signature method of Japan's kissaten, valued for a body that paper cannot produce.

A European nineteenth-century vacuum brewer that Japan adopted, standardised around its coffee houses and kept alive for a century after the rest of the world abandoned it.

Lightly roasted coffee, usually heavily spiced with cardamom and often saffron, brewed and decanted into a long-spouted dallah and poured into small handleless cups under a precise etiquette of hospitality.

Finely ground coffee simmered in a rakwe with cardamom as standard, ordered by sweetness, and served unsweetened at funerals — where the absence of sugar carries the meaning.

Strong spiced coffee kept hot in a brass pot over charcoal and poured unsweetened into tiny cups at street-corner gathering spots along the Kenyan coast.

Whole coffee beans, hulls and all, deep-fried in ghee and eaten a few at a time off the palm — coffee as food rather than as a drink, and closely bound to Sufi devotional gatherings.

Lightly roasted coffee, usually heavily spiced with cardamom and often saffron, brewed and decanted into a long-spouted dallah and poured into small handleless cups under a precise etiquette of hospitality.

Finely ground coffee simmered in a rakwe with cardamom as standard, ordered by sweetness, and served unsweetened at funerals — where the absence of sugar carries the meaning.

Beans wok-roasted with sugar and margarine, brewed strong through a long cloth sock filter, and ordered through a compact Hokkien-Malay vocabulary that specifies milk, sugar and temperature in two syllables.

Coffee simmered in an earthenware pot with cinnamon bark and unrefined cane sugar, so the sweetening and spicing happen in the brew rather than in the cup.

Coffee ground together with a household spice blend — sesame, black pepper, nutmeg, cinnamon and more — and brewed at home rather than in cafés, with no fixed formula anywhere.

Coarse coffee boiled in an enamel or aluminium pot over a fire, left to settle, and poured off sweet with condensed milk — the farm and camp coffee of South Africa, named after the grounds it leaves behind.

Coarsely ground coffee boiled directly in a pot, taken off the heat and allowed to settle before pouring — the everyday coffee of Nordic homes and, still, of anyone with a fire and a kettle.

Lightly roasted coffee, usually heavily spiced with cardamom and often saffron, brewed and decanted into a long-spouted dallah and poured into small handleless cups under a precise etiquette of hospitality.

Finely ground coffee simmered in a rakwe with cardamom as standard, ordered by sweetness, and served unsweetened at funerals — where the absence of sugar carries the meaning.

A very concentrated coffee essence made by dripping water slowly through cloth, kept in a jug, and diluted to taste with hot water or milk at the moment of serving.

Liberica coffee — a species almost nobody else grows — boiled in a kettle with brown sugar and poured out unfiltered, in the Batangas and Cavite provinces where the trees survived.

Strong coffee served long and cold over ice with lemon — an Algerian place name, a French colonial story, and a living café habit that is now essentially Portuguese.

Very dark coffee poured through a hand-held cloth filter and served as a small strong cup or as the base of a milky café con leche — the household method of Puerto Rico and the Dominican countryside.

Lightly roasted coffee, usually heavily spiced with cardamom and often saffron, brewed and decanted into a long-spouted dallah and poured into small handleless cups under a precise etiquette of hospitality.

Lightly roasted coffee, usually heavily spiced with cardamom and often saffron, brewed and decanted into a long-spouted dallah and poured into small handleless cups under a precise etiquette of hospitality.

Green coffee roasted together with Guinea pepper pods and often cloves, ground, brewed through cloth and sweetened heavily — a spiced coffee whose spice is added before the roast, not after.

Beans wok-roasted with sugar and margarine, brewed strong through a long cloth sock filter, and ordered through a compact Hokkien-Malay vocabulary that specifies milk, sugar and temperature in two syllables.

Whole coffee beans, hulls and all, deep-fried in ghee and eaten a few at a time off the palm — coffee as food rather than as a drink, and closely bound to Sufi devotional gatherings.

Coarse coffee boiled in an enamel or aluminium pot over a fire, left to settle, and poured off sweet with condensed milk — the farm and camp coffee of South Africa, named after the grounds it leaves behind.

Instant coffee, sugar and non-dairy creamer in one sachet, stirred into hot water — a drink invented in Korean coffeehouses, packaged in 1976, and now so ordinary that the stick itself is a unit of measurement.

Beans roasted, ground and boiled with ginger, cardamom and pepper in a red clay jabana, then poured through a fibre strainer into small cups — a Sudanese hosting ritual related to Ethiopia's and distinctly its own.

Beans roasted, ground and boiled with ginger, cardamom and pepper in a red clay jabana, then poured through a fibre strainer into small cups — a Sudanese hosting ritual related to Ethiopia's and distinctly its own.

Coarsely ground coffee boiled directly in a pot, taken off the heat and allowed to settle before pouring — the everyday coffee of Nordic homes and, still, of anyone with a fire and a kettle.

Finely ground coffee simmered in a rakwe with cardamom as standard, ordered by sweetness, and served unsweetened at funerals — where the absence of sugar carries the meaning.

Spiced black coffee carried through the street in a long-spouted pot over its own charcoal tray, poured into thimble-sized cups and sweetened not in the cup but by a piece of kashata eaten alongside.

A dark blend of robusta with roasted corn, soybean and sesame, brewed through a cloth sock and served black over ice with sugar — the coffee that Thai street stalls have sold for generations.

Powder-fine coffee boiled with sugar in a zezoua on charcoal, from a blend roasted at home with chickpeas, coriander seed, cardamom and dried orange peel, and finished with drops of orange blossom or geranium water.

A heat technique rather than a drink: the briki is buried in a bed of heated sand so warmth arrives evenly through the sand instead of from a flame, giving unusually fine control over how the foam rises.

Pulverised coffee brought slowly to the foam in a cezve with cold water and any sugar, served unfiltered in a small cup with water and something sweet — the form of this preparation family inscribed by UNESCO in 2013.

Lightly roasted coffee, usually heavily spiced with cardamom and often saffron, brewed and decanted into a long-spouted dallah and poured into small handleless cups under a precise etiquette of hospitality.

The first, strongest drops of the brew are beaten hard with sugar into a pale, thick foam, and the rest of the coffee is poured through it — sweetening and texturing the cup in one step.

Grounds boiled loose in a pot over a fire and settled with a splash of cold water — the North American trail method, and a case where the folklore is better documented than the technique.

A small metal filter sits on the glass and drips a very concentrated brew directly onto sweetened condensed milk, which is then stirred through and usually poured over ice.

Egg yolk beaten with condensed milk into a thick sweet foam and floated on hot phin coffee — a Hanoi invention that answered a milk shortage and stayed.

A phin brew poured onto condensed milk and topped with lightly salted whipped cream — a Huế café invention with a known date and named founders, now one of Vietnam's most exported drinks.

A hot drink brewed from the dried husk of the coffee cherry rather than the bean, boiled with ginger and sugar — coffee's other beverage, and in Yemen an old one.