Egg coffee. It wasn’t just another thing to tick off a bucket list—it was something I wanted to actually learn, to get my hands dirty with. And the funny thing? It’s simple. Brutally simple. Just an egg yolk, sweetened condensed milk, and the kind of coffee strong enough to pass for rocket fuel. Blitz it together with a hand mixer until it turns thick and frothy, like some kind of liquid tiramisu, then pour it over that jet-black brew. It’s alchemy, but it doesn’t pretend to be anything else.

I drank it everywhere in Vietnam. Hanoi, Saigon, in the heat of the afternoon, in the cool of the morning. Hot, cold, sometimes too sweet, sometimes perfect. Each place swore theirs was the real deal. But the photo here—that’s different. That’s from the café that started it all. The birthplace of this strange, brilliant invention. And sitting there, you notice details. Like the mug resting in a bowl of hot water to keep it warm, a clever little trick that feels both humble and ingenious.

What I love is that it’s not precious. Egg coffee wasn’t born in some bougie café designed for Instagram—it came from necessity. During wartime, milk was scarce. People improvised. They used what they had. An egg. Condensed milk. Strong coffee. And somehow, it worked. More than worked—it became iconic.

So yeah, I’m happy I got the chance. To taste it at the source. To drink something that’s both a piece of history and a damn good cup of coffee. Simple, sweet, bitter, strong—the kind of drink that reminds you survival and beauty aren’t always separate things. Sometimes they’re the same.