The Holy Grail of Croissants

The relentless Shanghai rain, a weeping torrent that makes Beijing's drizzle seem like a polite meteorological sneeze, had turned me into a rather damp exhibit of modern man. I was, to put it mildly, a walking, squelching testament to meteorological overcompensation. Forgetting, as one often does, that Shanghai embraces the aquatic in a way Beijing simply cannot, I found myself adrift. And then, through a mist of self-pity and precipitation, there it was: a beacon of warmth, a pastry-laden promise. I had, by glorious happenstance, stumbled upon the elusive, the mythical, the singularly charming branch of Pain Chaud on the corner of Jiashan and Jianguo West Road.

Now, for the uninitiated, Pain Chaud is a chain. Five establishments dot the Shanghai landscape. But let me assure you, four of them are mere mortal bakeries, often awkwardly nestled in some soulless mall or an address that inspires existential dread. Their decor suggests a hurried afterthought, their clientele a testament to the democratic nature of cheap carbohydrates. But this one? This was the one touched by an angel. An angel, I suspect, with a rather discerning palate and an affinity for tasteful interior design. Fairy dust, I'm quite certain, was involved.

Even the exterior speaks of a higher calling. Six broad steps lead up to a façade adorned with faux Corinthian columns, lending it an air of classical grandeur, almost as if the Parthenon of Athens had decided to try its hand at baking. It’s an architectural wink, a subtle promise of something more refined within.

Stepping inside was akin to a secular baptism. The sudden warmth, the gentle hum of the coffee machine, the scent of baking bread – it was a revitalization project for the soul. My usual order, a small cappuccino with two doses of espresso, arrived promptly, a dark, comforting antidote to the external deluge. Alongside it, a chocolate croissant, warmed to perfection, promised solace. And the lemon water, self-serve and subtly refreshing, made all in the world seem gloriously, unequivocally right.

The layout of the first floor is a marvel of accidental social engineering. Most tables are strategically positioned to face the gleaming glass counter, which, I might add, is perpetually choked full of goodies. This creates a natural, almost theatrical, parade ground. A long, delightful procession of lovely creatures – patrons, mind you – meander past as they place their orders. One cannot help but be seen, and in turn, cannot help but observe. It’s a wingman, this place, a quiet conspirator in the art of human connection, forcing interaction whether you like it or not.

But beyond the social dynamics, Pain Chaud offers a rare commodity in Shanghai’s bakery scene: authenticity. Unlike most Chinese bakeries, where the ingredients often feel like approximations of their Western counterparts, here, the cream, chocolate, and ice cream taste like the real McCoy. There’s a certain je ne sais quoi that screams "Western standard of eatery," a culinary integrity that simply doesn't exist elsewhere in the chain. And the staff, a delightful blend of Chinese and international types, only adds to this otherworldly charm, enhancing the feeling that you’ve stepped out of Shanghai and into a little slice of Parisian heaven.

My favorite coffee shop so far, unequivocally. And the prices? Quite reasonable, which, given the quality, feels almost criminal. Their confidence is so profound, so utterly self-assured, they’ve even coexisted with a Starbucks directly next door. A Starbucks, I might add, that serves coffee so infinitely inferior, it’s frankly an insult to the bean.

Tonight, I didn't just find coffee; I found my urban sanctuary, my dry harbor in the storm, a place where good coffee, good pastries and good people coalesce into something "very much good", as my friend Patel would say.