It all started 5 years ago.
Even though I was born and raised in a country famous with coffee production, I was not really fond of it. My first coffee memory was with my dad. Growing poor, like many other of our neighbors in early 90 (and we were even amongst poorest in the neighborhood), coffee was a luxury, it was not something you took for granted. My dad was gifted by someone with a bag of coffee, and he stashed it away for most of the year. It’s a treat on Tết holiday, a “Vietnamese phin” style. It smelled lovely, but also very bitter. But with a lot of sugar, it’s drinkable. I was able to taste some, and while it’s not something I