A Hidden Coffee Gem on Hangzhou’s Famous Haier Lane | Inside Entrance Coffee Laboratory

 Mention “Haier Lane” in Hangzhou, and almost everyone will recognize it as one of the city’s most iconic coffee streets. Over the years, as people have come and gone and cafés have opened and closed, the coffee shops may change, but Haier Lane itself remains — along with its loyal crowd of coffee devotees. To be honest, my own feelings toward this street have changed quite a bit too. Many of the cafés that once felt like irreplaceable “white moonlight” memories have gradually disappeared, and when it comes to the newer wave of shops, it’s been hard for me to feel the same excitement again. Maybe because of that emotional baggage, I’ve found myself viewing many of the newer openings with a certain distance and skepticism, never quite stepping inside.

Not long ago, though, I noticed another new café had quietly opened on Haier Lane. Judging purely from the drinks and the bean selection, it immediately felt refreshing and different. At the very least, I sensed a level of professionalism that didn’t rely on the usual trendy, social-media-driven aesthetics this street has become known for. So for once, I decided to let go of my preconceived judgments and give both the café — and myself — a chance. The place is called Entrance Coffee Laboratory.

Apparently, the absence of a bold storefront sign has become its own kind of anti-mainstream attraction these days, and Entrance Coffee fits right into that category. I arrived by taxi and was greeted by a huge glass-fronted space: bright, spotless, minimal. In that moment, it felt as if the entire café itself was the signboard. It had been a long time since I’d seen such a classic island-bar layout — a large square coffee bar positioned in the center, with guests seated all around it, while the rest of the room was intentionally left open. It instantly communicated that coffee was the main character here, and conversation was part of the ritual. The openness and visual clarity of the space made it incredibly immersive from the very first second.

Then I looked at the menu.

Honestly, my internal reaction was: Who picked these beans? This lineup is absolutely insane.
And when I flipped to the pour-over menu, it became even more shocking.

Auction lots. Fresh harvests. Legendary growing regions. Traditional processing methods carefully preserved. Instantly, I could sense the philosophy behind their sourcing. Combined with the seating arrangement around the central bar, it created the feeling that every guest was somehow part of the café’s inner circle. It was almost as if Entrance Coffee was saying to everyone who walked in:

Don’t be a stranger. Come closer. Sit around the bar. Watch how we make coffee. Let’s talk about whether it tastes good together.

That’s confidence in coffee, but also trust in the customer.

Entrance Coffee updates its bean lineup every month or month and a half, which is honestly an impressive pace. But somehow, it also perfectly matches the identity of a place calling itself a “Laboratory.” Coffee beans are vessels for flavor perception, and constantly changing flavors are what create the spirit of experimentation. Of course, maintaining a rotation like this also says a lot about the café’s sourcing capabilities and access to green coffee resources. After all, not every café can convincingly call itself a laboratory.

Sometimes we assume the highlight of a café’s menu lies entirely in its pour-over offerings, but here, I honestly think no matter what you order — and no matter how many coffee origins you’ve already tasted — you’re likely to discover something new. And that, truly, feels like a rare kind of luck.

The first bean that caught my eye was a fresh harvest washed 74158 from Ethiopia Sidama called Masincho. Masincho is actually the name of a massive tree growing at the center of the Yaye washing station, and naming the coffee after it symbolizes the deep roots and foundation of the station itself. I ordered it as a hot Americano. Don’t ask why I can never resist Ethiopian Sidama coffees. Sometimes, when a profile becomes so familiar and approachable that it almost feels “everyday,” that’s exactly when you can quietly judge the true quality of a café’s green beans.

And honestly? This coffee completely surprised me.

The flavor was astonishingly delicate. Beyond the classic citrus notes, every sip carried hints of red florals, with bright, juicy fruit sweetness layered over an incredibly high sweetness level overall. Grown at 2300 meters above sea level, this coffee somehow tasted like it should have come from trees planted even higher up the mountain. Just one cup instantly made me feel like this café had set its baseline quality ridiculously high.

The extraction style for the Americano filtered out most of the crema, probably to avoid introducing bitterness or astringency. Personally, though, I still love Americanos with crema intact. Since this wasn’t an intentionally over-extracted profile, removing the oils also removed some body and roundness, leaving the flavors concentrated mostly in the front palate while the finish became comparatively lighter. Still, the barista mentioned the beans had only been roasted a few days earlier, which explained a lot. I could already imagine how much more refined it would taste once fully rested. Even so, the way those floral notes opened up the palate already felt incredibly elegant.

But the second coffee I tried was the moment I truly felt like I had “won” at this café.

A Colombian SL28 from the Origen Cooperative immediately grabbed my attention. Origen operates primarily in Tolima, Huila, Caldas, and Nariño — some of Colombia’s most legendary coffee-producing regions — partnering directly with farming families across these areas. One thing that makes Origen particularly impressive is its commitment to full traceability from farm to consumer. Knowing a coffee’s origin isn’t just about storytelling; it’s about guaranteeing authenticity and quality at every stage of the process.

At first, I simply thought: A classic washed Colombian from a cooperative I’ve never tried before? Sure, let’s see what it’s like.

Then the dry aroma completely short-circuited my brain.

Creamy strawberry. Tropical fruits. Gardenia blossoms. The fragrance was unbelievably intense.

I remember staring at the cup thinking: How is this washed coffee? Are you absolutely sure? And why is there basically zero silver skin left?

The barista immediately pulled out the importer’s information to show me. Later that night, I ended up deep-diving through the importer’s website at home. These days, so many Colombian coffees have become increasingly flashy and over-engineered, but seeing a producer applying advanced techniques with genuine restraint and integrity instead of gimmicks honestly made me admire them even more.

The reason this coffee develops such a unique dry aroma is because the cherries are first picked at peak ripeness, then floated and sorted before undergoing 24 hours of aerobic fermentation in sealed bags. After that, they’re soaked and fermented in sealed tanks for another 32 hours before being dried for 15 days and stabilized for 30 more days prior to milling.

In some ways, it almost resembles a semi-washed style. But regardless of the technical category, what impressed me most was how clean and transparent the complexity felt. I could tell immediately there were no “funky tricks” involved here. This coffee felt fundamentally different from the aggressively processed Colombians flooding the market right now. The idea that careful pre-fermentation alone could produce this kind of profile genuinely challenged my assumptions.

I chose this bean for a flat white.

At Entrance Coffee, you can actually choose your own cup, and one entire wall is dedicated to coffee cups. I pointed at a rounded cup with a narrowed rim and said, “This one. It’ll help with integration and latte art.”

The barista gave me a deeply approving look.

I laughed and said, “See? I get you.”

Because really, when the café cares this much about the experience, the customer naturally enjoys the experience even more.

The first sip of the flat white immediately gave me strong Ethiopian SOE vibes. The flavors weren’t quite as explosively aromatic as the dry fragrance had suggested, but the clarity was unbelievable — bright berry sweetness layered over an incredibly creamy texture. Honestly, I instantly regretted not ordering this bean as a hot Americano too. I probably would’ve been ecstatic.

This café. Seriously. Everyone needs to go.

At that point, I was fully prepared to forgive their expensive pricing. Honestly? Worth it.

I probably come across as the most extroverted person imaginable inside coffee shops. The barista himself was definitely more introverted, but once he realized I genuinely understood what we were talking about, he became incredibly open and willing to share everything. And I love that kind of transparency.

A café should be willing to openly discuss its sourcing and philosophy. That’s the right attitude for running a business built around consumer trust and perception, not some vague sense of self-satisfaction hidden behind secrecy. I genuinely admire cafés with an open-source mindset like this.

That confidence? That’s the real deal.

Under Coffee Review: A Hidden Gem in Hangzhou’s Growing Coffee Scene

 Even though I’ve visited over 1,300 coffee shops around the world, you know what? I still come across small places that surprise me when I slow down and pay attention to the details. That sense of discovering a hidden gem is something I truly treasure—it feels like a privilege. Boredom, to some extent, comes from predictability, but the world of coffee is vast and boundless. Along the way, this mutual exchange—between people, places, and flavors—is what keeps my curiosity alive and my sense of freshness intact.

The café I want to talk about today is one I initially slightly underestimated. But after a friend recommended it, I figured I should check it out—and I’m incredibly glad I did. It turned out to be absolutely fantastic. It’s Under Coffee, located at No. 14 Dongyuan Street, Chaoming Subdistrict, Gongshu District, Hangzhou.

By the time I visited, it was already a well-established neighborhood café with a strong base of regulars. When I stopped by on a Sunday afternoon, it quickly filled up, almost to the point of bursting. The place became lively in an instant. You could really feel how a café, in the midst of ordinary life, can be a source of light. Everyone there looked energized and full of life—proof that sometimes, a cup of coffee really can solve more than you’d expect. People were genuinely enjoying themselves, and it showed.

Over the past couple of years, I’ve noticed Chaoming Subdistrict popping up more and more on my radar. This area seems to be quietly cultivating a distinct coffee community, with customers who have a surprisingly refined palate. That’s been my consistent impression after visiting several cafés nearby.

Under is a fully self-roasting café. The owner roasts all the beans in-house and mentioned that he sometimes roasts more than 20 different beans in a single batch. In addition to supplying his own shop, he also roasts for partners. One of the biggest advantages of a self-roasting café is the strength and diversity of its bean lineup, along with the ability to constantly introduce new offerings. That’s exactly why I’m always drawn to places like this. You can clearly feel the vitality and versatility of the shop—so much so that it’s almost impossible to define. Every visit brings something new to taste.

The menu here is equally impressive, offering up to six different espresso beans at a time, all single-origin (SOE). The owner regularly refreshes the entire lineup, so while these six beans are what I experienced, you might encounter a completely different selection when you visit. What matters is using each bean’s roast profile and flavor expression to understand the owner’s technical skill and creative intent—that’s what I was most interested in capturing during this visit.

As we all know, nearly every café—regardless of how many beans they carry—typically has a classic, traditional option with nutty and dark chocolate notes. This serves as the foundation and is usually the shop’s most popular “workhorse.” While this flavor profile is common, it requires strong performance and versatility across different drinks. That’s why these foundational beans are often blends—it’s rare to find such richness, intensity, and body in a single-origin bean.

This is where Under really stands out, along with the owner’s thoughtful approach. Instead of a blend, he uses a medium-dark roasted Costa Rican washed Caturra to deliver this classic flavor profile. At first glance, it almost feels counterintuitive. Most Costa Rican coffees are honey-processed, so finding a washed one is already quite unusual. Pair that with a medium-dark roast aimed at achieving depth and structure, and you’ve got something truly distinctive. As the shop’s “No.1 bean,” it immediately sparked my curiosity—so I chose it for a flat white.

One particularly delightful detail I noticed while watching the owner work was his “little trick” with milk. For the flat white, he uses Weiquan Full-Fat Milk 4.0 and adds about 15 grams of rice milk. It’s a subtle but clever touch. The result is a gentle boost in sweetness that complements the darker roast profile—but in a very refined way, with no sense of imbalance or intrusion.

The final cup was beautifully integrated. The first sip delivered rich chocolate and nutty notes—deep and satisfying. But what surprised me most was that, despite its intensity, the flavor didn’t transition into the usual caramel sweetness at the finish. Instead, it shifted into a remarkably clean sweetness reminiscent of cane sugar and maple syrup. It was so clean it almost felt like a break in the flavor continuum—truly fascinating.

I also ordered a hot Americano made with an anaerobic natural Bensa. Whenever I see Bensa on the menu, it’s almost an automatic choice for me—I just love it. This Americano was generous in volume and very satisfying. At the front, you get a hint of tropical fruit notes from the anaerobic process, though they’re quite subtle. Soon after, it transitions into a more classic natural profile, with bright citrus and a touch of berry-like acidity—juicy and pleasant. Through the mid to late palate, it remains consistently sweet and clean.

STAIR COFFEE Qiandao Lake｜The Only Specialty Coffee Shop Worth Visiting in Thousand Island Lake

 Not long ago, I went to Qiandao Lake to enjoy the autumn scenery during the off-peak travel season. Even though it was already winter, this year Hangzhou had been unusually slow to turn cold. To me, the low season is actually the right way to experience Qiandao Lake. The trees shift through layers of color, and the lake and mountains reveal nature at its most effortless. From the moment I stepped out of the high-speed rail station, even the air felt more “health-boosting” than Hangzhou’s—haha. It’s an ideal destination for a quiet weekend escape.

Whenever I travel to an unfamiliar city, one of my rituals is to seek out local coffee shops. For me, cafés are a kind of unspoken link between myself and a city. This habit has become deeply ingrained in how I travel—it’s a way of getting closer to local culture and creating a personal, irreplaceable memory of a place. That said, based on everything I could find beforehand, there was only one café in Qiandao Lake that truly felt worth visiting. If you ask me why, I’ll be very direct: aside from the usual commercial chains, most independent cafés here still operate in a “scenic-spot style”—they sell location and atmosphere, not coffee.

That’s why a small shop that genuinely commits to long-term thinking and to cultivating a specialty coffee community feels especially precious. You can’t help but think that without real conviction and ideals, no one would choose to walk such a determined path. After my own careful selection, this visit felt all the more meaningful. So today, let me share what I consider the guiding light of Qiandao Lake’s café scene—the lone standout. It’s STAIR COFFEE (Toppo Coffee), located at No. 16-3 Qilong Alley, within the Qiandao Lake Scenic Area.

Qilong Alley itself carries many memories of everyday life for locals. Though it has been developed into a commercial street, its layered, vertical layout still retains a hint of that lively, street-level energy—almost like a miniature Chongqing. STAIR COFFEE opened in 2020, which already makes it something of a veteran. Because the space is vertically arranged, make sure your navigation is accurate when you come—I personally confirmed the location by spotting the street-side sign. A tiny detour, but nothing major.

The sign at the entrance—“Chun’an Qiandao Lake Toppo Coffee”—looks almost like a plaque from a government office, instantly adding a touch of seriousness (which I found kind of funny). The shop itself is quite spacious, and perhaps because it sits alongside a staircase, it has a perfectly fitting name and logo: STAIR COFFEE. The interior is divided into two main areas. The front space features the bar, a few two-seat tables, and a shared seating area. Deeper inside, there’s a larger, more private zone designed for relaxed breaks, with looser, more laid-back seating. This is also where the owner roasts beans day to day. There’s no flashy décor—just a sense of natural ease and openness. As a “third space,” it feels like a small living room that brings together people who happen to cross paths.

The menu pricing is incredibly friendly. Despite years of industry chatter about rising green bean costs, some café owners continue to “do charity work” by refusing to raise prices—and this is exactly where the glow and value of a true neighborhood café shine through. The shop keeps three to four espresso options on rotation. I started with an SOE Flat White made from Ethiopian Yirgacheffe beans from the Konga region. These days, when people talk about Ethiopian coffee, regions like Bensa or Alo come up far more often. But the classic, terroir-driven regions that have delivered consistent quality for years deserve even more appreciation. In my book, Konga absolutely earns its place. When I learned that this SOE came from the Konga Cooperative, I gave the owner a big thumbs up and said, “Yeah—you really know how to choose your beans.”

This Flat White was a joy. After drinking so many Ethiopian milk coffees that instantly scream familiar citrus-and-cream notes, having something a little different makes those distinctions stand out immediately. Compared to more typical natural Ethiopian SOEs, this one leaned toward layered stone-fruit notes—grapefruit and citrus marmalade—adding depth and complexity. In a milk drink, that’s a huge plus. Those flavors cut cleanly through the sweetness and creaminess of the milk, creating something closer to a fruit milkshake with lively, expressive layers, while still retaining the body a Flat White should have. It was clean, balanced, and incredibly satisfying—honestly, the best compliment is to just drink it down in one go.

Another thing that truly surprised me was that one of the regular espresso offerings was a decaf—a Swiss Water Process coffee from Colombia. I’ve always been a bit skeptical of Swiss Water decaf; in my experience, it often carries a strange, hard-to-describe off note. Still, I figured it was time to give it another chance after all these years, so I boldly ordered a hot Americano with it.

To my surprise, the flavor was impressively clean and well-structured. The base leaned toward dark chocolate, lifted by a touch of citrus acidity. There were also subtle grain-like, roasted notes—almost like toasted bread. Nothing odd or distracting, just a gentle, approachable profile. The finish even carried a maple-syrup-like sweetness. What pleased me most was the body: traditionally, Swiss Water decafs tend to feel thin, but this Americano retained good oils, aroma, and mouthfeel. It turns out Swiss Water processing has really improved.

As I chatted with the owner and sipped my coffee, he kept making pour-overs for me—this kind of generous “feeding” is something community cafés everywhere seem to share, and it always makes me feel spoiled. Whether natural or washed, you could clearly sense his roasting philosophy: clarity, cleanliness, and high sweetness. There’s something almost magical about it—you just can’t stop drinking. The coffees are incredibly easy to enjoy, and this flavor framework brings out exactly what the terroir wants to express.

Back to my opening thought: being a kind of coffee evangelist in a small town isn’t easy—some might even call it overly idealistic. But that’s precisely why it feels so valuable. Next time you visit Qiandao Lake, beyond the famous fish head dishes and scenic views, try exploring its less touristy side. STAIR COFFEE might just give you one of the most memorable moments of your trip.

Guangxi Coffee Explained: China’s Emerging High-Altitude Coffee Origin Beyond Yunnan

 Not long ago, while scrolling through Weibo, I came across a post saying that Guangxi has started growing its own coffee. That immediately caught my attention and genuinely surprised me. Curious, I decided to dig deeper and share what I found with you.

From a coffee perspective, China is actually a rather unique country. It has a complete coffee supply chain—from cultivation and roasting to distribution and consumption. China is both a coffee-producing nation and a coffee-consuming one. When people talk about Chinese coffee, Yunnan naturally comes to mind as the most well-known producing region. Over the past few years, we’ve all witnessed the remarkable transformation of Yunnan coffee. It has moved from being primarily bulk-purchased for instant coffee to embracing a mature specialty coffee path. Today, even traditionally processed Yunnan Catimor can offer a clean and pleasant cup profile, and varieties like Yunnan Geisha have also emerged, bringing greater diversity. These achievements truly feel like a point of pride.

But China’s vast territory means that Yunnan isn’t the only place where coffee can grow. As early as last year, I talked about Tibetan coffee, the only coffee variety that originated in China. It is mainly found in Motuo County, Tibet, and is known for its exceptional cold resistance. Unlike Arabica, Robusta, or Liberica, Tibetan coffee does not belong to any of the three major coffee species—it is a completely independent variety. Within China, it can only be found in Motuo, while outside the country it also grows in parts of northeastern India. The reason Tibetan coffee rarely comes up in discussions is that it is listed as Endangered (EN) on the IUCN Red List, which has greatly limited its cultivation and visibility.

So aside from Yunnan, where else in China can coffee be grown at a commercially viable scale? The answer is Guangxi.

Coffee cultivation in western Guangxi—specifically in Xilin County—is no coincidence. Multiple factors have come together to make it possible. Today, you can already find Guangxi-grown coffee beans being sold online, most of them sourced from the Xilin area. This region benefits from a microclimate and soil conditions similar to those found in the world’s major coffee-growing belt.

Coffee is a tropical crop with strict environmental requirements and is typically grown within the “Coffee Belt” between 25° north and south latitude. Although Guangxi as a whole sits at a relatively higher latitude (approximately 20°54′–26°24′ N), certain areas still meet the conditions needed for coffee cultivation. Coffee trees grow best at temperatures between 15–24°C. Xilin County, located at the westernmost edge of Guangxi and bordering Yunnan and Guizhou, lies close to China’s core coffee-producing region. It has a subtropical monsoon climate, but thanks to its higher elevation, it also shares characteristics of plateau and mountainous terrain. The average annual temperature is around 19°C, making the climate mild and stable.

Most of Xilin County is mountainous, with an average elevation of about 1,300 meters—well within the “golden elevation range” for high-quality Arabica coffee.

Another crucial factor is rainfall. Coffee requires ample water, and Guangxi is known for its abundant precipitation, more than enough to support coffee growth. Combined with the region’s high-altitude slopes, this creates a microclimate with significant day-night temperature differences. Such conditions help coffee cherries accumulate more sugars and flavor compounds, ultimately improving bean quality. Soil also plays a key role. Coffee thrives in fertile, well-drained soil rich in organic matter. This is why many premium coffee regions are located on volcanic soil. While much of Guangxi consists of acidic red soil, it can be effectively improved, making it well suited for coffee cultivation.

Xilin also benefits greatly from its proximity to Yunnan. The two regions share similar latitudes and enjoy the climatic advantages brought by higher elevations. In addition, Xilin can readily learn from Yunnan’s mature experience in variety selection, farm management, and processing techniques, avoiding many unnecessary detours. Industrial development in Xilin has been limited, and the ecological environment remains well preserved, with high forest coverage. This allows coffee trees to grow in a clean, natural setting, aligning perfectly with modern consumers’ demand for green and organic agricultural products.

At present, the main variety grown in Xilin is Catimor, which is also the only commercially available Guangxi coffee I’ve seen online so far. Catimor is a dominant variety in Yunnan as well, valued for its strong disease resistance, stable yields, and reliable flavor performance—making it an ideal choice for an emerging origin. That said, there are still relatively few sellers offering Guangxi coffee, and it’s clear that the region is still in the early stages of flavor exploration. Currently, the profile tends to feature nutty and cocoa-like notes, with medium body and a smooth mouthfeel—very much an everyday, approachable coffee. Still, given its geographical advantages, Guangxi clearly holds the potential to develop more complex, specialty-grade flavor profiles in the future.

Shanghai Has 10,000 Coffee Shops: Is the Specialty Coffee Boom Sustainable?

 Over the past decade, coffee consumption in China has grown by 150%, far outpacing the global average.

As of 2024, Shanghai is home to 9,115 coffee shops—more than London, New York, or Tokyo.
Local roasters, specialty chains, and tech-driven retail concepts now form a complete ecosystem.
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If you search online for how China’s specialty coffee market has evolved in recent years, you’ll see plenty of statistics like these. And Shanghai, more than any other city, stands at the center of it all. Whether viewed through the lens of history and culture, or through sheer economic momentum and speed of development, Shanghai has delivered what may be the most convincing report card for specialty coffee in China. These numbers almost justify calling it a global coffee capital—perhaps “one of” them, at least.

But numbers alone are never the full story. To understand their deeper economic meaning, one premise must be made clear: a city is not defined as a coffee capital simply by the number of cafés it has. What truly underpins today’s apparent prosperity is a convergence of factors—digitized consumption powered by the internet, unprecedented speed and convenience, and a young consumer base driven by curiosity and a desire to explore new flavors. Together, these forces have created the current boom.

New coffee brands are emerging and attracting capital at a remarkable pace. Investment pours in. Delivery platforms can bring you a latte in minutes. Cafés iterate their menus rapidly through O2O data feedback. Response times are faster, information is more transparent, and optimization cycles are shorter than ever before.

In many ways, Shanghai represents the most concentrated expression of this integration and optimization. It showcases what a new era of coffee consumption looks like: flavor experiences anchored offline, combined with technology-driven operations and community-building, gradually forming a complete coffee ecosystem.

Yet history suggests that growth rarely escapes a cyclical pattern. As we push forward and obsess over rising metrics, we must also acknowledge the hidden and potential crises lurking behind the data. In truth, I don’t see complete ease or unshakable optimism on the faces of café owners. Yes, Shanghai’s consumption potential remains strong, but with nearly 10,000 cafés—and likely already more than that—the market is inevitably entering a new set of rules. Who defines those rules? And how does one establish a true anchor point amid such overwhelming competition? The struggle to survive is real, and often brutal.

Young consumers today are driven by curiosity. If something tastes novel or looks interesting, they’re willing to pay for it. I say this as someone who has long since lost the sense of awe around coffee festivals. Back in their peak years—around 2017–2018—I could spend an entire day inside a single exhibition hall, unable to leave, because there were simply too many outstanding roasters from around the world worth exploring.

Today, that sense of fulfillment is much harder to find. Not long ago, I came across an interview clip from a coffee festival. One attendee said, “These coffees are great for photos. I drink too many Americanos in daily life—I like these little sweet drinks at festivals.” Honestly, just listen to that. But then again, it perfectly captures the core logic of many coffee festivals today. In that moment, I realized how closely the coffee industry is beginning to mirror—and even overlap with—the developmental path of the internet industry.

As global demand in Europe and the U.S. slows, Shanghai—arguably the flagship of China’s coffee scene—seems to be reshaping itself as an emerging market of its own. Cafés are no longer just selling standard coffee drinks; many now offer espresso-based creations branded as “creative coffee” or “coffee mocktails.” Whether this is genuine innovation or simply the creation of a new consumption track is hard to say. What is clear is that it allows for better margins and aligns perfectly with young consumers’ appetite for novelty.

But is this sustainable? Few seem to care about long-term accumulation or depth. Immediate returns and satisfying present demand appear to be the dominant logic. Is this really the safe path? Is it truly right? Or, more fundamentally—can we continue like this?

I don’t have a definitive answer. Sometimes I wonder what exactly I’m uneasy about. I also struggle to explain why I now feel almost no interest in most new cafés. Perhaps it’s because what I see is a kind of “glossy illusion” built on hollow demand. In the U.S., opening a café can easily take a year. In China, it might take a month. When one café closes, another often opens within weeks. I’ve even found myself awkwardly telling café owners, mid-conversation, “I’ve been to the café that used to be here… and the one before that.”

Even the equipment inside cafés has become a kind of mobile hard asset—second-hand, third-hand machines get recycled from shop to shop. Sometimes all it takes is a new sign, a refreshed interior, and the place reopens as a brand-new café, ready for another run. What I’m seeing may only be a fragment of the bigger picture, but it carries a sense of helplessness. Cafés have become the go-to entrepreneurial choice for many, largely because the barrier to entry is so low.

People rush in fueled by ideals and optimism, yet often you can predict the lifespan of a café from the moment it opens. And still, these cafés continue to appear—again and again. That’s why everything is moving so fast. But when physical businesses begin to operate at internet speed, I don’t feel excitement. I feel a deeper silence.

Recently, a friend vented to me about being crushed by the “delivery wars.” He complained that some roasters are selling beans cheaper than his own green coffee costs, leaving him genuinely confused about how anyone is making money. The market feels collectively absurd. As China’s coffee consumption evolved—from rigidly copying Western models to customizing its own demand—consumer behavior such as going to cafés primarily to take photos rather than drink coffee has been fully validated and embraced.

From a dialectical perspective, compared with Western markets struggling with aging consumers and shrinking demand, Shanghai’s emphasis on community and entertainment feels vibrant and creative. But if the industry caters endlessly to every fragmented consumer desire, what kind of outcome does that lead to?

In the short term, it looks like “user-first.” In essence, however, it reflects a loss of value and a blurring of category identity. Coffee’s core value—appreciating an agricultural product—gets reduced to a convenient vehicle for caffeine and sugar. Over time, consumers stop caring about bean quality altogether, and the industry loses its cultural and qualitative foundation.

The rapid cycle of openings and closures exposes another issue: homogenized competition and innovation turned inward—innovation for the sake of innovation. It becomes the emperor’s new clothes. Novelty spirals into absurdity: chili coffee today, cilantro Americanos tomorrow. These ideas are easy to copy and impossible to defend, offering no lasting brand moat. Competition shifts away from bean quality, roasting skill, or extraction technique, and instead becomes about who can be stranger or louder. The result is stagnation at the level that truly matters.

In the end, trying to satisfy every demand is itself a form of strategic laziness. Excessive pandering causes an industry to lose its sense of self, compete inefficiently, and cultivate consumers with increasingly extreme tastes but little loyalty. A healthy coffee ecosystem should be one in which practitioners and consumers grow together—embracing diversity while continuing to communicate coffee’s core value and cultural depth.

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.

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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.

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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.

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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.

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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.