Your tram was fifteen minutes late, filled with gossipy
schoolgirls and their swinging ponytails.
The café is filling up, the takeaway window crowded with faces.
Coffee up!
Coffee up!
I said, coffee up!
Your barista is moodily pouring out an endless clatter of
coffees. He’s been wearing the same faded shirt, that black one with the ninja,
for three days. He barely acknowledges you, just wordlessly hands you the first
of many flat whites. You swirl your teaspoon through it and take a little taste
before tying on your apron. You try and assess the dining room, but before your eyes can scan beyond the oddly piratelike looking man at table two, you
hear that thick Israeli accent cry out;
Coffee up!
He hits the bell and looks at you. Two flat whites and a
skinny latte for table sixteen. You place them on little saucers, along with a
scattering of Tiny Teddy biscuits and a teaspoon and carry them to a round
table by the big window.
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You pour two cool glasses of water for your newest arrival, a mother and daughter. They're regulars here, and always get the same latte orders; one soy and one extra hot. Sometimes the daughter comes alone, and when she does, she gets a strawberry muffin. You saw her once, at the Prahran markets, but you couldn't place how you recognised her until hours later, while watching The Voice, it just came to you. Funny how that happens, isn't-
Ding!
Food up!
Poached eggs on Turkish bread with Vegemite, eggs royale,
eggs florentine, table nine.
You run the plates over to the table. A middle aged woman
and a younger couple. Vegemite toast for the man, eggs Florentine for the young
lady, and-
What is this? I didn’t order this.
Apparently, that new backpacker waiter completely
misunderstood the woman’s order. She wants Spanish eggs, not eggs royale- not
entirely sure how the bloke mixed the two up. You take a deep breath, preparing
yourself for the task of telling the chef. She’s intimidating; a
lanky, angular ex-surfer with a steely glare.
Table nine wanted Spanish eggs, not eggs royale. I’m
sorry.
Swearing under her breath, your chef fills a little clay
dish with a piquant chorizo laden tomato sauce. Her teary-eyed sous chef looks
up from his pile of shallots and winks at you.
Using a wooden spoon, she makes two wells in the sauce,
and drops in two eggs. She sprinkles over some salt and then throws the whole
thing under the grill. You bring a big spoon to the table and whisk away the offending eggs royale, bringing them to where you have been sporadically sipping your coffee.
As the morning passes, you quietly pick at the lady’s
castoff eggs royale, which are good- the café does a nice lemony
hollandaise that goes beautifully with the fatty, smoky salmon. It’s nice, but
you wish it had been the Spanish eggs that were gifted upon you this morning.
Those Spanish eggs are just so robust and flavourful, especially with toasted
Turkish bread on the side.
Later that night, you are inspired to try your own version
for dinner. Perhaps it looks something like this:
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Melbourne café eggs
1 small onion, chopped
2 cloves of garlic, chopped
1/4 cup chorizo, cut into
lardons
2 cups cherry tomatoes,
halved
1 small red pepper, chopped
1 tsp sherry
1 1/2 cup water
1 tbsp tomato paste
1/2 tsp sugar
1/8 cup olive oil
1/2 tsp cumin
1/2 tsp smoked paprika
1/8 tsp cayenne pepper
4 eggs
1. In a shallow, heavy bottomed pan, heat a bit of oil
and add garlic and onions. Cook until translucent and fragrant.
2. Add chorizo and render out a bit of fat. Add tomatoes
and peppers and sautee.
3. Add the sherry and give it a good stir.
4. Add water and tomato paste, stir to combine, and
season with salt and pepper. Bring the mixture to boil.
5. Meanwhile, combine oil with cumin, paprika and
cayenne. Season with a bit of salt.
6. Reduce the heat of the tomato mixture and stir through
the seasoned oil. Reduce heat to low.
7. Gently crack four eggs into the sauce. It helps to use
a spoon to create little wells for each egg. Season eggs with salt and pepper.
8. Cover pan and cook on very low heat for 5 minutes, or
until egg whites are just set.
Serve with bread.
