This article records tradition as it has been passed down and reported. Its sources are not yet part of the atlas's verified catalogue.
The method is not in dispute. Take coffee ground to a powder finer than anything a drip machine could use, put it in cold water with sugar to taste in a small long-handled pot called a cezve, and bring it slowly to a foam over heat without ever filtering it. Serve it, grounds and all, in a small handleless cup called a fincan, and let the last sip go undrunk. UNESCO inscribed this exact preparation, and the culture built around it, on its Representative List of the Intangible Cultural Heritage of Humanity in 2013, calling it a symbol of hospitality, friendship, refinement and entertainment that permeates all walks of life. What is in dispute, or at least in careful avoidance, is what to call it.
The method itself has a fairly settled documented history: coffee drinking entered Ottoman elite and urban life after the empire's conquest of Yemen from 1517, consolidated under Sultan Suleiman the Magnificent, and Istanbul's first coffeehouses opened their doors in 1554, per UNESCO's own Courier magazine. That gives the preparation an origin point most food traditions never get, a city and a plausible decade. It does not, however, give it a name everyone agrees to use for it.
Across the region the identical method turns up as Greek coffee, Cypriot coffee, Armenian coffee, Bosnian coffee, Serbian coffee, and, often with a pinch of cardamom added, Arabic coffee, the label shifting with the country and, in Greece and Cyprus specifically, with a political history considerably more recent than the Ottoman conquest of Yemen. A cup ordered one way in a Nicosia cafe and the same cup ordered another way just across a line on the island is, by any measurable standard, the same drink brewed the same way; only the word attached to it has moved.
It is a small, everyday demonstration of something food history keeps proving and keeps needing to reprove: a preparation method belongs to whoever kept using it, and a name is a political choice layered on top of a technique, not the technique's own signature. The cezve does not know what it is called. The people holding it, evidently, care quite a bit.