My most memorable cup of coffee was when I was 19 years old in USMC boot camp.
As you entered the chow hall, you grabbed a tray and the first thing in line was the coffee. In huge, stainless steel vats. The color, brown, but translucent. Practically tasteless.
We were allowed to drink one cup, no cream or sugar, though they were available.
The overly thick Navy mug, the aroma, the screaming drill sargeants...
My most memorable cup was from when I was stationed in Germany. My sister was coming to visit, so I took a week of leave and drove her around all my old haunts. We happened to be in Bavaria during Oktoberfest, and there were no hotel rooms to be had close to Munich, so one night we ended up staying at a farm in some small village. My sister was tired from all the touring we were doing, so she went to bed early. I wasn't tired at all, and I knew there was a kid living in the farm somewhere around my age, so I walked down the hall, knocked on his bedroom door, and asked him about local dance clubs. He asked whether my "wife" was going with me, and when I explained I was traveling with my sister, he volunteered to go out with me and show me the best clubs
Long story short, we were out quite late. His English was about as good as my German, so the conversation wasn't too deep, but we had a great time regardless. I bought him all his drinks, and even had a girl I was dancing with get mad at me because she thought I was German and only pretending to be American
"I know you're not American," she said, "because you don't speak English good enough!" LOL!
We eventually made it back to the farm, where I snagged a couple of kittens and put them in bed with my sister
After that I crashed for the night.
The next morning I went down to the kitchen for breakfast, and the mother of the house looked at me curiously with a wry smile. She didn't speak any English, and I eventually figured out that she was laughing because her son was up all night getting sick because he drank so much
(the German slang for "hangover" is "ein Kater" or literally, a tomcat). I told her I didn't feel bad at all, so she proceeded to make me the most amazing breakfast. Almost everything was from the farm - the eggs, the ham - the bread was homemade, as was the butter, and she served it with honeycomb from their bee hive. With this feast, she served me a cup of the most amazing chocolate coffee I have ever had. I just sat there in nirvana, eating fresh bread with butter and honey, and soaking up that great coffee, while she laughed at the American GI who made her son so drunk.
Can't remember the kid's name now, but I stayed in touch with him for several years afterwards. We'd write letters back and forth in those days before the Internet. He was taking English classes in school and enjoyed the practice