Coffee in 1970s Shanghai: Hidden Luxury, Moka Pots, and a Forgotten Coffee Culture

 A while ago, did any of you watch Love in the Age of Innocence? It was honestly the first time a period drama pulled me into that kind of “flow state” of pure enjoyment—I was completely hooked, haha. But as an ISTJ, shipping characters and catching interesting narrative details don’t get in each other’s way. And as a coffee lover, the moment I spot anything even remotely related to coffee, my “inspiration antenna” instantly shoots up.

The story is set around 1975. Although the show takes place in a fictional city called “Jiangcheng,” there’s a telling clue: Fang Muyang mentions dishes like pork cutlets, ice cream, and borscht from the “Deda Western Restaurant.” That restaurant clearly points to the real-life Deda Western Restaurant (today located at 473 West Nanjing Road in Shanghai), which essentially confirms the setting. In one scene, Fang Muyang wants a cup of coffee, and Fei Ni goes out to buy it for him. That small moment caught my attention, and it made me curious enough to dig into the historical context—how exactly did people drink coffee back then?

In that era of material scarcity, coffee—seen as a “capitalist” beverage—was never completely banned. Instead, it existed in a kind of gray zone within daily life. It was typically treated as a “special supply” item, reserved for foreign-related hotels, Friendship Stores, and seamen’s clubs, mainly serving foreign guests, returned overseas Chinese, or intellectual elites. That said, coffee could still occasionally be found in higher-end state-run shops or select supply-and-marketing cooperatives in major cities. While rare for the average person, it wasn’t entirely out of reach.

At the time, the most famous domestic brand was “Shanghai Brand” coffee produced by the Shanghai Coffee Factory. It came in tins of roasted coffee and was widely remembered as a luxury item—something you could only get with foreign exchange coupons or special connections.

The story of the Shanghai Coffee Factory actually goes back to 1935, when a 22-year-old from Dinghai, Zhejiang named Zhang Baocun founded the “Desheng Coffee Company” in Shanghai. Zhang had studied at St. Francis Xavier’s College in Shanghai and later worked at a foreign firm, where he developed a strong interest in coffee roasting. He named his brand “C.P.C.,” which may sound Western but was actually derived from the Wade-Giles romanization of his name (Chang P.C.). His business imported green coffee beans, roasted, blended, and ground them in-house, and even brewed and sold coffee on-site. Thanks to its excellent quality, C.P.C. quickly became a well-known name in Shanghai, and Zhang himself earned the nickname “King of Coffee.”

In 1956, Desheng Coffee underwent public-private partnership reform, and by March 1959, it was officially renamed the “Local State-Owned Shanghai Coffee Factory,” adopting the “Shanghai Brand” trademark. From the 1960s through the early 1980s, it was the only enterprise in China named specifically for coffee—and the country’s sole coffee-processing factory before the Reform and Opening-Up era. For over three decades, every cup of coffee served in Shanghai—whether in cafés or hotels—came from this factory. In fact, the same was true across the entire country’s coffee shops and high-end hotels.

At the time, a tin of Shanghai Brand coffee cost 3.5 yuan. When the average monthly salary was only a few dozen yuan, that price firmly placed it in the luxury category. Yet despite the cost, Shanghai households that aspired to a more “Westernized” lifestyle almost always kept a tin at home—especially as a must-have for weddings. Even after the coffee was gone, the empty tin would often be displayed prominently in a glass cabinet, becoming a unique symbol of status and taste in that era.

During the difficult years of the 1960s, when resources were scarce and rationing was common, coffee at times required coupons. Still, people in Shanghai never lost their taste for it. In response, the Shanghai Coffee Factory came up with a creative substitute known as “coffee tea.” It was made from lower-grade coffee bean remnants, ground into a very fine powder. The process involved layering sugar, then coffee powder, then powdered sugar into molds, compressing and drying the mixture before cutting it into small blocks and packaging them in paper boxes. To drink it, you simply dropped a piece into hot water—much like instant coffee.

Of course, the taste couldn’t compare to real coffee. It was often gritty, with a relatively weak aroma. But in that time, it was better than nothing—a small comfort in an otherwise constrained life.

In the show, when Fei Ni buys coffee, the shop uses a moka pot to brew it—another detail worth noting. Seeing a moka pot in 1975 is actually a bit anachronistic, as this Italian brewing tool didn’t become widely known or used in China until after the 2000s. Back then, very few households owned one. More commonly, people in Shanghai would wrap coffee grounds in cloth, place them into an aluminum pot (known locally as a “gangzhong huzi”), and boil it over a coal stove—the same one used for cooking. The coffee would simmer slowly over low heat, gradually releasing its aroma. For those who were a bit more particular, they might filter it again through paper afterward for a smoother, richer taste.

Outside of Shanghai, cities like Harbin and Tianjin—both with strong legacies of foreign communities—also maintained a visible coffee culture. In Harbin, for example, places like the Dongfanghong Supply and Marketing Cooperative reflected this tradition, complete with old counters, veteran sales clerks, and the city’s distinctive Russian-influenced coffee customs (such as drinking from cups alongside bread like rye loaves).

Looking back, regardless of how times change, people’s love for life never really fades. Brewing a pot of coffee with a moka pot and pairing it with a piece of Western pastry wasn’t just about taste—it was a quiet act of preserving a way of life. What the moka pot produced wasn’t just coffee, but something more enduring: a stubborn, elegant fragment of a “pure and innocent age,” compressed into the folds of time.

The Evolution of Chinese Coffee Culture: From Old Shanghai to Modern Trends

 

In the past, I envied the interesting life inside coffee shops, and the elderly gentleman just now also loved this kind of life.

He said that in this rich and fragrant air, there is an endless experience of life to savor.
— Tian Han, One Night in a Coffee Shop

Compared with China’s long history of tea drinking, coffee, as an imported commodity, has only a very brief two-hundred-year history of consumption. This simple brewed beverage stirs cultural trends and emotional turbulence no less than tea.

According to Yangzhou Huafang Lu by Qing opera writer Li Dou, in the sixteenth year of the Daoguang reign, the Danes opened China’s first coffee shop near the Thirteen Factories in Guangzhou, which people referred to as the “black shop,” and called coffee “black wine.”

It is not hard to see the tentative and resistant emotions people had toward coffee. They reluctantly sipped a mouthful of the bitter or sour brown liquid, just as the rulers had no choice but to open the crumbling gates of the country.

Zaoyang Fanshu recorded the method of boiling coffee in the late Qing dynasty. As Western cuisine flourished with the influx of Westerners, Chinese cooks who were employed inevitably came into contact with coffee for work-related reasons, becoming among the earlier groups of Chinese people to encounter coffee.

Later, as late Qing officials and progressive scholars interacted more frequently with Westerners, they gradually accepted coffee as an imported product and led Chinese people to develop the habit of drinking it.

//

As one of the earliest treaty ports, Shanghai saw Western coffee culture take root as early as the 1920s. Coffee became an indispensable social drink for the middle class and above.

▲ An early coffee advertisement page

Even though coffee had only recently been introduced, Shanghainese already took great care in brewing it. Coffee equipment was not yet advanced, so they wrapped the grounds in gauze and boiled them in a steel pot. Those who pursued better taste filtered the coffee again with paper before drinking. Those who preferred sweetness added condensed milk or cream.
No matter what, coffee had already become an important prop for upper-class citizens to express the ideals of urban life.

Eileen Chang was a devoted fan of milk coffee. During her childhood in Tianjin, she and her father were regulars at Kiessling Restaurant, and she spoke highly of its coffee. Those were delightful years.

By the 1930s, coffee consumption had shifted downward to the general public, and coffeehouses entered a period of unprecedented prosperity. Overall, coffeehouses displayed a strong Western flavor. On one hand, they catered to the aesthetic preferences and homesickness of expatriates; on the other, their exotic charm offered Chinese people a chance to pursue modern fashion.

Even in times of scarcity, old Shanghainese households still kept coffee simmering on their stovetops.

//

In the 1920s and 1930s, nearly one-third of the shops in the concessions were coffeehouses and Western restaurants.

Tian Han’s One Night in a Coffee Shop was the earliest modern literary work to express “coffeehouse sentiment.” The play reproduced the furnishings of the “Public Coffeehouse,” giving later generations a glimpse of it.

“In the front is a cabinet for placing drinkware, with a large mirror embedded in it. A bit forward sits the counter, on which are placed warm containers for coffee and milk, as well as cups and saucers… Chrysanthemums are displayed in suitable places, yellow and white under the gas lamps, and oil paintings hang on both walls…”

An advertisement titled Shanghai Coffee, published in Shen Bao on August 8, 1928, described it this way:

“…There I met today’s cultural celebrities—Binglu, Lu Xun, Yu Dafu, and others. And I also came to know Meng Chao, Pan Hannian, Ye Lingfeng, etc. Some were there discussing their ideas passionately, while others sat in deep thought. I gained much insight from my time there…”

Exchanging diverse ideas while sitting amid the aroma of coffee had already become a main form of gathering for intellectuals.

Early films portrayed scenes of coffee life beyond count; coffee had already become a symbol of fashion. In the 1925 film Orchid of the Empty Valley, dignified gentlemen and ladies enjoy coffee with graceful composure. Many artists, deeply influenced by foreign culture, became mediums for popularizing coffee culture.

People no longer drank coffee only in coffeehouses; its presence in home leisure and office hospitality became as common as that of tea.

Coffeehouse prosperity, occurring during a stage of coexistence between Chinese and Western cultures, was highly favored by progressive thinkers. They gathered in coffeehouses to critique politics or write fervently; from scholars to attendants, what they contemplated was the future direction of the nation and whether they themselves might secure a place within it.

At that time, coffeehouses functioned more as gathering places—highly open and inclusive—where coffee culture shone brilliantly. This was perhaps the stage when China’s coffee culture came closest to its Western origins.

Old newspapers are witnesses of their era. Advertisements from the past show that some coffeehouses even hosted Peking opera, southern music, dance, and other performances. Posters listed the day’s shows and included the names of famous performers.

▲ Performance events at early coffeehouses published in old newspapers

From the founding of the People’s Republic to the period before Reform and Opening-up, coffee experienced a decline. Coffee, sold at a high price, became an expensive luxury item, and coffeehouses no longer enjoyed their former intellectual vibrance.

After Reform and Opening-up, instant coffee became popular and quickly rekindled people’s emotional connection to coffee. In 1998, Starbucks entered China, reshuffling the existing coffee landscape.

People broke free from instant coffee and tasted the surprising sweetness of caramel macchiatos. Half a century of economic constraints had limited people’s imagination about coffee, and the expansion of Starbucks’ “third place” concept gave those seeking quality life an excellent opportunity.

People walked into freshly brewed coffeehouses after decades away, as if paying tribute to the coffee culture of years past.
Coffeehouses flourished at this stage. Taiwan’s UBC Coffee was once a favored place for business negotiations, Europe’s Costa took root in Shanghai, and Korean chains like Caffe Bene eventually faded away.

Consumption upgrades bring both opportunity and elimination; capturing the tastes of coffee drinkers under new circumstances became a challenge different from that of the previous century.

Coffee enthusiasts simply took to the streets and opened their own shops. They spread the concept of specialty coffee, and more people began to appreciate the unadorned flavor of pure coffee. Coffee shops that balance professionalism and entertainment emerged one after another.

Coffee culture gradually became more enriched. We cannot define a cup of coffee crudely, just as we cannot judge a person simply by good or bad.

//
Coffee shops that prioritize quality have owners who are almost obsessive about their coffee choices. From origin to processing method, from roasting to final presentation, paired with careful coffee etiquette, the experience is worth savoring.

Few words are needed—a single cup of coffee can build a tacit understanding between strangers.

//
Of course, there are coffee shops that prioritize trends above all. They are often in eye-catching locations.

Their customers are full of energy—teenagers carrying skateboards hurry in, sweat on their hair tips, exuding a carefree American vibe; white-collar workers in a rush don’t even take a seat, finishing a cup of espresso in three sips—effortlessly cool.

Today, coffee culture in China is becoming increasingly diverse. The collision of traditional coffee aesthetics and fast-fashion consumption reveals new facets of coffee culture.

Fortunately, people’s focus on coffee has evolved from simple to complex, and finally returned to flavor itself—something truly remarkable.