Quote:
Originally Posted by GySgt1811
Good Lawd! I love everything about coffee.
But, yeah, field/cowboy coffee is the best on a cold morning and from a "clean" canteen cup; great ritual, great coffee and it warms your innards as well as your hands.
BTW, A tanker's breakfast is a cuppa joe and a Lucky Strike. 
Gunny John |
Boys, I lucked out in the first draft lottery held. One of the reasons college was attractive to begin with, other than meeting parental and other expectations, was the draft deferment it represented. I worked at the college radio station at Clarkson, and all staff otherwise not busy dropped by to wait for the numbers as they were drawn and announced, almost real-time, on the teletype (remember those?). My number finally came in, 327, and I never again attended an institution of higher learning after that unless it was
my desire. ROTC was kinda fun, but once I got the year's requirement in, I didn't consider it a career path thereafter.
The closest I ever came to military style coffee was on a trail blazing trip to the hunting camp in the Adirondacks, of which my brother's friend was a member. In light of current state of ecology, I shudder to remember hacking the bark from enough trees to create blazes to follow back to camp by flashlight, later, during hunting season. I remember it snowed that Easter weekend. And I was awakened in the middle of the night by, I swear, a mouse running across my lips.
The coffee was horrendous the way we made it. The camp recipe dictated the use of an enameled sheet steel coffee pot, about a foot tall, and just about as big around at the bottom. This jobber went onto the wood stove until the water in it boiled--double duty 1)up to temp for the coffee and 2) hot enough to kill whatever accompanied it from the creek--and then the coffee was poured in by counting, not measuring, from a can of Maxwell House or whatever. At some point, an egg was added, probably for reasons in some urban legend. While sipping on his hand and heart-warming dose from a tin cup, my brother said, "If my wife ever served me coffee like this, I'd kill her." But all agreed it was invigorating and cheering as we watched the snow come down.
Rich, I think you've encountered something at the stop+go something categorized fondly as "Sisco's Finest"--or its equivalent. They have that purveyor in your area, too, right? They mostly peddle inexpensive goods and produce to restaurants, etc. which will never make it to a top-ten list anywhere in any category. Their offerings are known for being 'craptastic"!
Gunny, my first cig was one of my dad's Luckies, out behind the lumber pile when I was ! 5 or 6 years old. LS/MFT! My brother and I were busted in the process by the next-door neighbor.