The weather has been chilly lately. Looking out into the horizon, the skies are overcast and about to unceremoniously unload sheets of rain on unsuspecting passers-by. The mercury in the thermometer read a chilly 22 degrees, very untypical for tropical and sunny Singapore.
“How soothing would it be for my soul, if I could fill my belly with a wholesome bowl of broth”, thought Jonathan.
Scouring the internet for ideas, he chanced upon a blog post cajoling diners to give this new prawn noodle establishment a try. It’s a young upstart, but apparently, the food quality is promising. Better still, it’s conveniently located right in his neighbourhood. Now when hunger pangs strike, tasty food is just a short commute away.
“Oh well, guess it’s gonna be Little Prawn & Co for lunch today!”, Jonathan chuckled.
As Jonathan pulled up alongside the curb, the coffeeshop loomed into view. It’s a corner coffeeshop, with dual frontage onto the road. Run by a single operator, they’ve renovated the premises such that it’s bright and airy. The tables are well-positioned. The space, while not big, feels spacious. There is no need to jostle for seats. As compared to some other establishments who pack their patrons in like sardines, this is a sea-change.
For Jonathan, it looks like things got off to a good start. It’s all very promising up to this point. However, things are about to change.
Flipping open the menu, Jonathan got the shock of his life. In bold black ink, the prices are presented unabashedly, up front and centre — $14 for a bowl of prawn noodles.
“It’s ridiculous!”, Jonathan fumed. “Most hawkers in Singapore charge $5 for a bowl of prawn noodles. Fine, some might charge as high as $8, but no higher. What gives Little Prawn & Co the right to put up such an excessive and exorbitant price tag?”.
“I should go and leave them a 1-star review on social media. That ought to show them! I take umbrage at such hubris. How can they be so unsympathetic to the (wallet of) the average Singaporean? Prawn noodles should not cost so much!”, Jonathan stormed. His mood turned inclement, not unlike the dark clouds gathering overhead. It was threatening to storm.
After cooling down for a bit, Jonathan rationalised the thoughts in his mind. “Well since I’m here already, I might as well give them a shot. Besides, there are other patrons here, and they seem to be slurping up the noodles heartily.” Jonathan grudgingly settled for their signature dish. The server dutifully took his order before submitting it to the kitchen.
Before long, a steaming clay-pot of broth was presented in front of him. The waiter let out a broad grin. The face mask concealed the wholesome-ness of that smile, but try as it will, it could not hide the twinkle in the eye. “Enjoy your meal, sir!”, the waiter chirped in an upbeat manner.
Jonathan was mollified by the good service, but still skeptical. A frown semi-forming between his eyes, he spooned some broth into his mouth.
Jonathan let out an audible gasp. Diners seated two tables away stirred at the commotion and looked up from their bowl of red, brown and hearty goodness.
“Wow, the flavour profile of this broth is so pronounced. They must have spared no expense with the amount of pork bones and prawn shells. To achieve that umami perfection, they must have slaved over the stove for long hours.”, he realised.
Jonathan could taste their passion, confined within the claypot, but brimming and bursting through. Sugoi! An unspoken conversation, one that transcended time and space, is happening right that moment, between the chef and the customer. No words needed to be said. There is no need for background music. In his mind, a full orchestra was playing Studio Ghibli. The musical notes on the score and the flavourful notes in the soup weaved together into the perfect experience. It took his breath away.
The serving was generous. The prawns were half-deshelled, so he could easily deshell the rest without having to dirty his fingers. How thoughtful. The noodle which on its own might be queasy or oily, was delectably paired with kangkong and beansprouts. Oooo the texture! Best of all, the clay-pot kept the soup warmer for longer, all the better to dine in an unhurried manner and appreciate the meal. Ittekimasu! There was a little plastic bin for diners to toss their prawn shells, better reflecting the civility of our times, instead of leaving the table in an uncouth or unsightly manner.
Peering around the shop, Jonathan observed that the customers mostly belong to the well-heeled crowd. They live in the landed housing estates nearby. Branded watches adorn their wrists, and they were kept entertained by the latest iPhones. They spoke in nuanced tones, not the brash and boisterous overtones commonly heard in more lively neighbourhoods. The higher pricing also had the unintended effect of keeping away undesirables. As far as Jonathan could tell, there were no negative externalities affecting the quiet enjoyment of his meal.
At this point, it’s almost like Jonathan transcended a few levels on the path to enlightenment. Jonathan mused, “Instead of complaining that this is expensive, should I perhaps work harder to be better able to afford this top-notch and premium bowl of noodles? Is this merely a bowl of noodles hastily cobbled together in the boiler, or was it painstakingly put together by a chef honing his craft? If someone gave me $14, will I be able to produce an exact replica, down to the last detail?”
It further occurred to Jonathan that he was seated immediately and served shortly after. “How much do I value my time? If I desire a much cheaper dish at an inferior location, how much of my time am I willing to trade for it?”
Different people perceive value differently. There are always going to be trade-offs. Cheap, good, and fast does not exist in this world. The parable of The Old Man, The Boy and The Donkey teaches us that it’s impossible to please everyone. Despite Little Prawn & Co’s best intentions, somebody is going to have something (bad) to say about them. The loudest boos come from the cheapest seats.
Little Prawn started out unpolished and scrappy. Yes to be fair in the early days their dish was admittedly lackluster, but they’ve never stopped trying their best. Every single disparaging or critical remark was transformed into “Keep at it bro, you’ll get there someday”. The harsh criticism gave them fire in the belly to keep improving. The struggle is essential — otherwise there can be no butterfly emerging from the chrysalis. At this stage they’ve exceeded all of Jonathan’s expectations. Little Prawn knew in their hearts of hearts that they might not be good enough at the beginning, but if they keep at it, one day they will be good enough.
Jonathan revisited the store a couple of months later. At this point he’s become fast friends with the business owner. Seeing as Jonathan is now a regular customer, the service staff added extra ingredients for him, at no extra charge. Turns out that instead of slamming the establishment with a 1-star review based on hastily-constructed first impressions, giving constructive feedback and making friends has yielded a superior outcome.
Even during off-peak timings, Little Prawn & Co is still seeing good traffic. Where are these people coming from? Turns out that Little Prawn & Co did not need to win over every single critic. They only needed to operate within their niche and cater to their loyal fans, who asked for nothing more that they continued to provide that quality they’ve become synonymous with. For these customers, they’ve already decided on their top choice — why settle for something inferior?
Jonathan ordered Little Prawn and Co’s signature dish, which at this point has become his go-to order. He knows about their strict levels of quality control. He knows they will not water down the ingredients just to gain some margins. He knows that no matter the temptation, they will not choose short term gains and allow negative externalities to affect the quality of his meal.
Little Prawn is life. Life is Little Prawn.
