When I toured Egypt a couple years ago, I was exposed for the first time to Turkish coffee. When I tried it for myself, I was at first struck by how strong it was... this was a latte-lover's nightmare, not that I was a latte-lover. It was like sipping a well-made espresso shot that got richer and thicker as you neared the bottom.

But it was more complex than that. It had a deeper, richer flavor. In most of the places where I ordered it, it had a spiced flavor to it, which I found out was cardamom. Sometimes the cardamom was more evident, almost overpowering; sometimes it was very subtle; sometimes it wasn't there at all.

One thing that was clear was that it was a drink to be savored. Nothing about the process of enjoying Turkish Coffee can be rushed. It takes some time to make, and any attempt to rush the process will lead to an obvious dropoff in quality. Once the pot is made, you have to wait in anticipation until the grounds have settled enough so that you can pour a cup without pouring sludge. And once it's ready to drink, the brew is powerful enough that it must be consumed thoughtfully. This is not a beverage that you can order in a styrofoam cup and drink while you drive to work.

In fact, the preparation and consumption of Turkish coffee has a kind of ritualistic feel to it. It's very grounding. It's a great way to end a satisfying meal or to start the day.

There are many cultures that make what I'm calling Middle Eastern Coffee, and each culture generally has several different ways of making it. Here I try to describe all of those different styles that I'm aware of and give tips on what the differences are hnd how to manipulate all of the variables that go into the process.