A bag of roasted coffee beans. Inhale, then inhale again. The smell delivers comfort, the anticipation of wakefulness and clarity. I first encountered freshly roasted coffee in 1995, when I lived among the Bedouins inside southern Israel. Nicknamed “taht al-nujuum,” I insisted on sleeping outside, under the stars, in the crisp night air securely cloaked under a heavy quilt. The gift? We awoke to the smell of the patriarch, Abu Yusuf, roasting and grinding coffee beans so we could imbibe a bracing, sweet thimble full of dark nectar before confronting the day, off the grid. But where did coffee originate, how did it migrate and will future generations continue to enjoy the coveted cuppa? Read more…