1. That Cup
of Coffee
Coffee. An addiction to many. A repulse to some. No
doubt, the coffee sensation has taken over the world.
Coffee joints are popping up like wild mushrooms after a
storm, with companies like Starbucks, Coffee Bean and
Tea Leaves, and others becoming a necessity to students,
executives, housewives as they sip their caramel
macchiato in their cute little plastic cups.
I remembered in my university days, I needed a venti
sized café latte to start my day. Back then, it was just
a drink. A pick-me-up whenever my eyelids felt like a 5kg
dumbbell. Nothing more.
However, it was during my backpacking trip through
Borneo which forever altered the way I look at coffee again.
I was going through one of the oldest streets in Kuching
city, Ewe Hai Street, on a lazy Tuesday morning when I
spied on a bustling coffee shop which seems to attract a
lot of people. From the outside, there is nothing significant
about the kopitiam. The only thing I could remember was a
sign which read “Kim Joo”.
Despite the simple exterior, it was filled to the brim with
old uncles with half buttoned shirts, impatient housewives
who kept on asking their children to finish their food, and
tourists like me being amused at the whole scene. At the
same time, they were also indulging in their breakfast - a
bowl of kolo noodles with a bigger bowl of mixed soup
(which I eventually discovered that it was called Zheng
in their local dialect) and a cup of coffee in crockery cups
which I thought had swamped into extinction.
Curious, I sat down on a vacant table and gestured for the
same breakfast set. After an agonizing 5 minutes, which
seems more like an hour due to the enticing aroma of the
noodles, my breakfast was served and I attacked it like a
starved teenager.
It was heavenly. The noodles were cooked to perfection.
Not too soggy, yet not too parched as well. A dash of
vinegar was splashed onto the noodles to tickle the buds
and that makes me yearn for more. With a large bowl of
Zheng topped with a variety of meant and their ingredients,
you can practically hear the noodles and the soup yelling
in harmony, Eat us! Eat us!
However, it was the coffee which blew me away. A cup
of aromatic black liquid so hot that I burnt my tongue
with the very first sip. That didn’t stop me from taking
another shot at it. I could literally taste the grounded
roasted coffee beans making love to my taste buds. As
I slowly let the coffee slither down my throat, it brings a
sense of warmth which I have never experienced before.
Amazed at the taste, I waited for the shop to clear. I couldn’t
just leave the shop without knowing the secret to this
magic brew. I got myself another cup of the legendary
joe and lingered around the shop. I just can’t seem to get
enough of it!
The bubbly uncle who seems to be the owner of the shop
started to notice this strange man who refuses to leave, and
from my appearance and demeanor, he must have reckon
that I am not a local. I introduced myself and began to
pester him on why does his coffee taste so much better
than my all time favourite café latte.
Chuckling away, Mr. Lai Jit Lai, or better known as Uncle
Lai, told me that it is just ordinary coffee. Perhaps, he
mentioned, it’s because of the historical attributes of his
kopitiam which makes the coffee so special. He got
himself a cup of the coffee as well, and began to share a
story which I could never forget.
Kim Joo Kopitiam is in fact the oldest coffee shop on
that street. He inherited it from his father, who in turn
inherits it from his father. In fact, Uncle Lai’s grandfather
was one of the pioneers
of kopitiams in Kuching.
Hailing from the island of
Hainan in the Kwang Tung
Province, with a backpack,
several friends, and sheer
determination, they set
off to the distant land of
Borneo in hopes of finding
new hope.
scoopHappenings
Vol.19 [16]

2. It wasn’t an easy life for them. In the dead of the night,
they would have to rise from their slumber to start
roasting the coffee beans. It will take approximately
5-6 hours to turn the mud coloured coffee beans to a
blackish brown tone. And this was done through manual
labour. Sweating from the blaze of burning firewood and
coal, they silently spin the handle of the makeshift pot so
that each and every single bean is roasted to perfection.
The roasted beans were then poured out onto a big metal
pan. High quality butter, sugar and salt were then added.
As the butter comes in contact with the burning beans,
it melts immediately and seeps into each pores of the
coffee beans. At this point, a gulf of sweet smelling buttery
roasted coffee surrounds the whole shop, strong enough
to awaken their children to get ready for school. The
coffee beans were then left to cool and a portion of them
was transferred to a grinder, where it is being crushed and
smothered to a powdery form. The rest of the beans were
safely kept in a tin for the next batch of coffee.
Scalding hot water is poured onto the powder. The brew
is vigorously stirred and sieved through a strainer. With
the thick black concoction dripping into the crockery cup,
the matching saucer is placed under the cup to avoid
spillage. And this was how each cup of coffee was made.
The tradition was passed down to the son, which in turn
passed it on to his son, Uncle Lai.
I stared at my almost empty cup. I never knew that a simple
cup of coffee would take so long to prepare. And it was
at this point when I looked carefully at Uncle Lai’s facial
features. Despite his jolly disposition, I could clearly see
the smile lines, the tired eyes and fine wrinkle crossing
over his brow. The hours of preparation must have taken a
toll on him, and the fact that he is able to sit down with me
and cheerfully shared this story, it was truly unbelievable.
As I said my goodbyes to Uncle Lai, I left the kopitiam as a
new individual. How many times have I complained about
staying up late to finish my work, and this man here had
to wake up before the break of dawn for the majority of
his livelihood. Never have I imagined that a cup of coffee
would force me to look at my life in a different light.
It has been many months since I set foot in a kopitiam. But
if I did, it will never be the same again. To some, coffee
may be an addiction. Some may repulse it. And some
may drink it from cute little plastic cups. For me, coffee will
always be a reminder to look beyond my struggles. There
are many others who have to endure much more than
I, yet still managed find time for others with a genuine
smile.
Thank you, Uncle Lai.
Vol.19 [17]