Every morning he had hot homemade Vietnamese coffee. I say Vietnamese coffee because it is a lot stronger than the weak Starbucks kind. He would dip bread in it and eat it And I would watch, sitting next to him at the dinner table. There were only three seats, and he sat in the same one everyday. The one facing the window so he can look outside. On some occasions, he would make me my own small cup of coffee and a side of bread and we would eat/drink it together. I could not have too much though because I was still young. That is how I grew to love coffee to this day.