MELAKA, Dec 4 — We can’t help but be in awe of the sumptuous feast laid out before us: yao char kwai stretched lankily like a pair of mischievous twins; the butterfly-shaped ma geok with its uneven, craggy wings; and the stout, sesame-speckled ham chim peng, still sighing with residual heat.

Beside these freshly fried crullers, two bowls of homemade tongsui send up soft tendrils of steam: boiled peanut soup the colour of old ivory, and red bean soup glossy and inviting.

Breathing in these familiar aromas, one of hot oil and one of hours-long simmering, and I am transported to childhood teatimes. Those in-between hours when the day slowed down and a small indulgence felt like a ceremony.

Golden Bread Station is a nondescript shop along Jalan Tengkera in Melaka. This is a neighbourhood where the old and the everyday live comfortably side by side.

The nondescript shop along Jalan Tengkera. — Picture by CK Lim
The nondescript shop along Jalan Tengkera. — Picture by CK Lim

For many Malaccans, teatime is less a habit and more a quiet ritual, and this humble shop has become one of those cherished stops for a taste of what feels increasingly rare: genuinely traditional afternoon treats.

Every cruller comes fresh from the fryer, or quite nearly. As each piece emerges, long metal tongs lift the fritters from the bubbling oil, placing them onto broad wire racks.

Here they rest, dripping off the excess, their golden crust catching the light before their warmth begins to ebb. This small gesture — letting the fritters drain properly — yields crullers that are crisp but never greasy, aromatic without being heavy.

Freshly fried ‘yao char kwai’, ‘ma geok’ and ‘ham chim peng’. — Picture by CK Lim
Freshly fried ‘yao char kwai’, ‘ma geok’ and ‘ham chim peng’. — Picture by CK Lim

Biting into them is sheer delight. The yao char kwai offers a delicate crackle that gives way to airy hollowness; it breaks apart with a crisp flourish that feels almost theatrical.

The ham chim peng is sturdier, its sesame-studded exterior lending a gentle resistance before yielding to a subtly sweet, pillowy interior.

And the ma geok — oh, the ma geok — its irregular form makes it a pleasure to tear apart, each edge giving a different texture, each piece a small delight.

Seriously, who could resist ordering one or two of everything? Not me.

Who could resist ordering one or two of everything? — Picture by CK Lim
Who could resist ordering one or two of everything? — Picture by CK Lim

What’s more, even the tongsui here is prepared with equal care. (And how rare is it that a single shop offers both crullers and sweet soups, and made fresh daily to boot!)

Good tong sui — “sweet water” in Cantonese — is simple but not simplistic, and the versions served at Golden Bread Station lean into this ethos.

The peanut soup carries a soft, mellow nuttiness; the peanuts themselves simmered to the point of surrender, collapsing into the broth with grace.

Dip half a yao char kwai into it and it soaks up the sweetness instantly, turning the crisp dough almost “juicy”; could we consider this a Cantonese churros and chocolate sauce situation?

Dip half a ‘yao char kwai’ into the sweet peanut soup. — Picture by CK Lim
Dip half a ‘yao char kwai’ into the sweet peanut soup. — Picture by CK Lim

Except it feels blasphemous to even think that: as a Cantonese, a proper yao char kwai is a far better proposition.

The red bean soup, meanwhile, is comfort in a bowl: each bean intact, neither chalky nor mushy, suspended in a broth that strikes the right balance between sweet and earthy. It’s the kind of bowl that warms not just the throat but the harsh edges of the day.

For it’s closer to evening than afternoon by the time we finish. The kind folks that run the shop are in no hurry to turn over tables; indeed, most of the orders are takeaway with regulars calling ahead for large plastic bags filled with sticks of yao char kwai.

Simple yet comforting red bean soup. — Picture by CK Lim
Simple yet comforting red bean soup. — Picture by CK Lim

I can imagine them bringing these crullers home for a late teatime or to keep for breakfast the following morning, to dip into hot congee instead of tongsui.

Here at Golden Bread Station, teatime isn’t a trend; it’s a tradition.

A reminder that the small things — freshly fried dough, a warm bowl of something sweet, a wooden table shared with memory — still matter. And that is reason enough, for us and for the shop’s regulars, to keep returning.

Golden Bread Station 油條讚

230, Jalan Tengkera, 

Melaka.

Open Wed-Fri 1-8pm, Sat 1-6:45pm, Sun-Mon 1-8pm, Tue closed

Phone: 016-327 6813

* This is an independent review where the writer paid for the meal.

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