Kopi and Soft Boiled Eggs (Musing)
There is something quite whimsical about sitting at a coffee shop and eating soft boiled eggs with a cup of kopi. It’s almost as if time had come to a standstill and we were all still speaking dialects and stirring guttural sounds out of our throats, aiming and spitting and missing the spittoon. Ah, the good old days of acting like a gangster and flicking the singlet rapidly with finger and thumb in the sweltering heat of the afternoon sun. These days that same experience is now diluted with air-conditioning and perfectly boiled huge omega-infused eggs the size of buffalo testicles. Okay, maybe I am exaggerating, but you sort of get the idea. Eggs today are perfect; too perfect.
Even the old familiar smells of melted butter in the coffee seems to be missing as some coffee places have opted for fine arabica beans over local coffee powder suppliers. There are very few places that reminds me of the old-school charm of a coffee shop. Good thing I found a coffee place near my office that still offered some semblance of a by-gone era. Nothing like getting your fingers burnt while cracking open the soft-boiled eggs. Nothing like getting the timing correct for the eggs and seeing perfectly congealed egg whites and runny egg yolks. Or even getting them wrong is not such a bad thing. I usually start the timer function on my smart-phone and make sure that the buzzer goes off after 5 minutes. That is usually how much time it takes for eggs to form perfectly cloudy rounds of golden yellow goodness.
Some things are worth missing; some moments worth reminiscing.