Contrary to popular belief, finding somewhere you can call My Local Place is not an easy thing. Keeping a local is even harder. It’s all about a give and take relationship. Goodness, relationships are tough.
Jack and I are really lucky to have so many great cafe’s literally surrounding our apartment building. Min Lokal was the last of them we tried. It’s so homely and comfortable that it almost seems too much like a local’s local. The type of place you go in and know you’ll definitely be catching up with the staff and both of you will be more than happy with it.
We were intimidated by that type of relationship though. We’re always intimidated when we’re not sure if people remember us or not. There is no right or wrong way to act in those situations. I usually end up seeming overly friendly and excited. And the worst part is bringing up a subject you caught up on last time and realizing they have no idea what in the what you’re talking about. It just gives me the chills. You can’t blame them though they are having these type of relationships with the entire neighboorhood, and we have to be okay with that.
So we’ve kept going for breakfast, but have always kept our distance from the staff. A hello always, a joke here and there, but never more than a few solem glances hoping maybe they’ll make the first move. After a few visits though we decided enough was enough. I made a huge move, and introduced them to my parents when they were in Australia. We told stories about how I came to find myself in Australia, how Jack and I met, and how we ended up to be neighbors. They probably (definitely) had no idea how much it meant to Jack and I.
I thought we might be pushing the My Local title on them too hard after that day, so we chilled out. We avoided the delicious baked eggs, the addicting flat whites, and the fresh orange juice. Until a couple of months later when Jack suggested we go out to breakfast, which I always say yes to because breakfast being his idea happens once every three months.
It was all happening though. That day Min Lokal became our local, not because we realized anyone could technically say that since the cafe’s name is Swedish for My Local, but because going in felt like visiting a friend. We went early enough so that the crowds were still about an hour away, their cool selection of music was still on low volume, and a game of trivia out of the weekend newspaper was being had. Jack and I could handle trivia. We could handle this relationship.
While their bakes eggs are a reliable and a constant gem of a dish, I put my brave tummy on and tried something not so adventurous, but new. It’s now my favorite breakfast plate of the moment: poached eggs with fetta and chili oil. Simple and easy is sometimes best, I’ve heard many people say.
I’m really not sure where this relationship will go, but I can honestly say I’m very happy about the stage we’re in now.