I opened Feeka because my kitchen at home was too quiet on weekday mornings. I do not say that to be poetic. It is the actual reason. Six years later I have a staff of four, a walk-in fridge, and a bread supplier, but the morning still feels like the kitchen at home — except now sixteen other people are in it, and one of them has always just broken up with someone, and I pretend not to notice.
I've never wanted to scale. I've had offers. One man drove from Penang in a black car and spent forty minutes explaining franchise economics to me over a cup of tea I made him. He was polite. He told me the unit economics were strong. I remember thinking: I don't think you know what this unit is.
— a cafe is not a unit. it is the room it is in.
So the menu is handwritten. Not as design — I tried printed menus for six weeks and hated them — but because the chef changes his mind on Wednesday, and by Friday the laksa has a different broth, and by Sunday there is banana bread because the bananas went brown. A printed menu lies about a kitchen. A handwritten one tells the truth.
The receipts are pinned to the wall behind the espresso machine. My accountant hates this. I tell her it is the brand. She tells me the brand is the reason she cannot reconcile March. We both win.
If you come in and I look tired, it is because I was up at 5.30 proofing dough that I was proofing when I should have been drafting this letter. If the kuih is gone, it is because it was good that morning and I underestimated. If the V60 changed, it is because I drank something on Tuesday that made me reconsider everything.
I am not building a chain. I am building an excuse to cook for strangers.
Saya buka Feeka kerana dapur saya di rumah terlalu senyap setiap pagi. Saya tidak kata itu untuk puitis. Itu sebab sebenar. Enam tahun kemudian saya ada empat orang staf, peti sejuk besar, dan pembekal roti, tetapi pagi masih terasa seperti dapur di rumah — cuma sekarang ada enam belas orang lain di dalamnya, dan salah seorang daripada mereka baru putus dengan seseorang, dan saya pura-pura tidak perasan.
Saya tidak pernah mahu mengembangkannya. Pernah ada tawaran. Seorang lelaki memandu dari Pulau Pinang dan menghabiskan empat puluh minit menerangkan ekonomi francais kepada saya. Dia sopan. Saya teringat: saya rasa awak tidak tahu unit ini apa.
— kafe bukan unit. ia adalah bilik di mana ia berada.
Jadi menu ditulis tangan. Bukan sebagai reka bentuk — saya cuba menu bercetak selama enam minggu dan membencinya — tetapi kerana tukang masak tukar fikiran pada hari Rabu, dan menjelang Jumaat laksanya menggunakan kuah berbeza, dan menjelang Ahad ada roti pisang kerana pisang sudah cokelat. Menu bercetak menipu tentang dapur. Menu tulis tangan bercakap benar.
— f. owner · in the kitchen