KUALA LUMPUR, May 9 — Be open to surprises in life.

That is one lesson I still remember from my late Yé Yé (Grandpa in Cantonese); he always had a meaningful maxim or wry bon mot ready for me, whether or not my pre-adolescent mind could grasp them or not.

So when I bumped into my friend at my neighbourhood supermarket ("bump” being a generous verb, given that he intentionally elbowed me, making me lament the quality of fellow residents these days), I suggested that we go for yumcha.

A drink or a meal to get caught up on each other’s life.

We debated various options: the weather was sweltering so I vetoed fast food and fried chicken; he just had Japanese so no karē raisu (despite the shop coincidentally bearing the same name as his father — forgive my juvenile delight in this bit of trivia).

Neither of us wanted mixed rice at our favourite cornerlot coffee shop because that is what we always go for. Time for something different.

So it was a nice surprise, as we exited the supermarket, to see a new kopitiam materialising out of thin air, within the compound of the semi-covered car park. And if we needed any further sign from the universe, the shop was called Ye Ye Café.

(End less-than-subtle foreshadowing about surprises and grandfathers.)

We had a choice of indoor seating (where retro nostalgia reigns supreme, imbuing the décor aggressively, with black Bakelite telephones and prints of Chinese songbirds from yesteryear) or outdoors, airy yet still shaded thanks to the ample awning.

The latter seemed the way to go, especially given how a colourful mural of Yé Yé lounging in front of his house beckoned us.

My friend and I, who haven’t seen each other since last year, it seems, opted not to stray from the staples. I ordered the classic curry noodles whilst he went for good old-fashioned nasi lemak. More time for conversation, this way.

You cannot go wrong with these wherever you go, for even the more mediocre versions will be flavoured by a tang of familiarity.

My bowl arrived filled to the brim with rich broth and my preferred choice of noodles, a mix of yellow noodles and rice vermicelli.

Me and my mee and meehoon, if you will.

For drinks, we both ordered the same: a hot cup of cham (milk coffee mixed with milk tea), my favourite kopitiam beverage.

Later I would dabao a couple of the tantalising local pastries by Bao Cheng Bakery calling to me from their food warmer. Teatime temptations galore: siu bao and kaya puffs, egg tarts (both the Hong Kong and Portuguese versions), green bean biscuits and curry pastries.

Around us, other tables were filled with laughter and gossip. A kopitiam is a place for family and friends to gather, really. Grandpa’s place.

As though Yé Yé himself was enveloping us with love and care, promising security in uncertain times.

It touches something within each of us differently from a fast food outlet or a Japanese curry house. The promise that there will always be curry noodles and nasi lemak, and a cup of our favourite cham.

We are Malaysians, after all, and this always feels like a privilege and a blessing.

I pondered this when I went inside again to pay after finishing our meal. I asked the cashier about the vibrant paintings on the wall and she told me these were the works of children with intellectual disability; the shop owner had bought some pieces in support of charity.

Here is to never taking all the good things we have in our lives for granted.

The shop’s name in Chinese — 爷爷避风港 (Yéyé Bìfēnggǎng) — literally translates to "Grandpa’s Haven.” Here it means a sanctuary to protect you from the elements, a port that shields you from the turbulent waves or violent winds.

And isn’t that exactly what we all crave right now?

Ye Ye Café 爷爷避风港

LG 01-3A, Faber Plaza, Jalan Desa Bakti, Taman Desa, KL

Opens daily 7am-4:30pm (except Wed closed)

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