Curse my atrocious sense of direction.
I only learnt that Orchard and Killiney are neighbours sometime earlier this year (yes cue the curses). It came as a sudden and embarrassing discovery, considering how close by I stay. So painfully close. I should find a way to conquer and eventually squash this oblivion of mine in one way or another. Honestly, how do I even live in this world. If one wishes to lose him/herself whilst travelling, come pick me up. I’d be happy to help strand you on some faraway island.
I swear I can’t even walk in a straight line.
Back to the actual point. For my father and I, Killiney Kopitiam is one of those quaint and good old-fashioned eateries which will always have that nostalgic effect on us. It’s memory and patriotism rolled into one square, white-tiled nook down the street. Constantly, I am reminded of my local roots, and what I really am made of, no matter how ginormous my ego sometimes.
All with some good kopi, crisp and creamy kaya toast and half boiled eggs. That’s all that’s needed to really wake me up.
This is where we started with breakfast. Us. Singaporeans. Slurp down those eggs like a hooligan without a care in the world, with great streams of light soy and white pepper. Feel it slide down your throat and relish the purity of a couple of unfertilised eggs (oh I make it sound so appealing). The kaya toast is, without a doubt, the best out there. I remember first trying it, thinking it absurdly simple and nothing much to care for. It’s grilled white toast and plain old kaya. Stodge upon sugar and back again. Then I tried other coffee chains such as Toast Box and Ya Kun, before coming to the stark conclusion that yes, this retains the most local flavour and bang for the buck. The curds in that homemade kaya meld beautifully with those cold alabaster slabs of butter, brought together harmoniously by that crusty, ridged rectangles of toast. Not too thick or thin. It basically screams the love emanating from some apron-bound Chinese grandmother. And do NOT skimp on the butter. Won’t be exploding with goodness if you resort to that.
Nothing like freshly grilled toast. Grilled, I say. Beats my traditional burnt toast anytime, with the perfect proportions of green, ivory and toast. Green, ivory, crunch and crunch. Yum.
I could pass on the french toast though, for it’s rather blah and well, predictable. Though I must say there are always those mornings when all I crave is some charred eggy bread with blobs of syrup.
Cheap flavours, everlasting memories.
67 Killiney Road
Don’t call, just go.