A Hidden Specialty Coffee Gem in Hangzhou | Endless Lamp Coffee Review

 Every year, quite a few new neighborhood cafés open in Hangzhou. As someone who’s constantly exploring new coffee spots, there are moments when I feel caught in the fleeting cycle of café-hopping and chasing the next “new thing.” Still, I always try to find something memorable — those subtle details that continue to shine through the ordinary. I suppose that’s become one of my deeper expectations for specialty coffee shops these days.

Today, I want to talk about a café called Endless Lamp Coffee, located at 22-1 Hefang Street in Shangcheng District, Hangzhou. It’s just a short walk from Jiangcheng Road subway station, and I happened to visit on its very first official day of business.

Before I even reached the shop, I could already see several customers gathered outside. Inside, there were opening flower arrangements sent by the owner’s friends. Even on day one, the café already carried a strong sense of community. Friends from all over had come together here, which says a lot about the owner’s personal charm. I can easily imagine this place becoming a warm neighborhood hub for nearby residents and office workers alike. To me, that community connection is the soul of a café, and the owner is often its best expression.

All of the beans served here are roasted in-house under the “Endless Lamp” label. Even during the soft opening, the coffee lineup was already impressively diverse, and sales seemed strong. The handwritten menu carried a warmth that digital displays simply can’t replicate. Holding the thick, textured paper instantly made the experience feel more personal and inviting.

The shop offers three espresso options alongside an even larger pour-over selection, with both categories receiving equal attention. Beyond the expected traditional espresso blend, there’s also a clean and straightforward Ethiopian washed SOE, as well as a more experimentally processed blend that immediately stands out from its flavor description alone. It’s clear that the bean selection was thoughtfully curated to appeal to different types of coffee drinkers.

For me, though, there wasn’t much hesitation — I naturally went with the Ethiopian washed SOE. Whether you prefer black coffee or milk-based drinks, beans like this rarely disappoint. I also liked how the menu simply categorized drinks as “black” or “white.” What made it even more interesting was the shop’s custom-designed cup size for milk drinks. Most cafés that use this menu style default to a standard latte ratio and volume, but Endless Lamp uses a cup that falls somewhere between an Australian flat white and a latte. That flexibility creates a very balanced milk coffee experience regardless of your preferred milk-to-coffee ratio.

The Ethiopian washed SOE worked beautifully as a milk drink. Visually alone, it was already incredibly pleasing. Honestly, cafés don’t always need heavy promotion. Sometimes, just posting a single photo of a beautiful milk coffee on social media is enough. Several friends immediately asked me where I got it. That alone says a lot about the quality of the presentation. Even through a screen, you could almost sense the silky texture and delicate microfoam.

Flavor-wise, it was wonderfully creamy, layered with citrus notes and hints of malt candy — a very classic Ethiopian profile overall, incredibly clean from start to finish. Coincidentally, the owner had just bought some fresh fruit and shared a small piece of pineapple with me. After finishing the milk coffee, taking a bite of sweet pineapple felt like a hidden post-credit scene at the end of a movie.

As I mentioned earlier, the pour-over selection here is equally impressive, and the pricing is remarkably approachable. Most of the beans lean toward traditional processing methods, and I was even surprised to spot a classic wet-hulled Mandheling on the menu — something I honestly haven’t seen in cafés for quite a while.

If I had to summarize my experience at Endless Lamp in one sentence, it would probably be: traditional coffee, unexpected surprises.

After some thought, I decided to order the cheapest pour-over on the menu — just 30 RMB. But affordable pricing should never make people underestimate flavor quality. In fact, when both quality and price align, it feels like a genuine win as a customer.

The coffee was an Ethiopian JERA Estate Washed 74110. I even looked up the green bean pricing online afterward: roughly 29 RMB for 200 grams, which works out to about 0.14 RMB per gram. But low green bean cost doesn’t automatically mean mediocre flavor. JERA Estate, located in Ethiopia’s Oromia coffee-growing region, benefits from an ideal microclimate and fertile environment for cultivating coffee trees. The farmers carefully harvest only ripe cherries and handle every processing step with great attention to detail.

Coffees from JERA Estate are known for their distinctive flavor profile: delicate white floral aromas, lingering sweetness across the palate, and an exceptionally soft mouthfeel. Those characteristics have become part of the estate’s signature identity.

Getting a pour-over for the price of a milk coffee already felt like incredible value. And despite being a very traditional washed coffee, the dry aroma was surprisingly sweet, filled with stone-fruit-like sweetness. The barista brewed it beautifully. From the very first sip, the acidity immediately came alive. The temperature control was spot-on, allowing the flavors to unfold with precision.

I have absolutely no resistance to coffees that open with vibrant acidity like this. It reminded me of a combination of lemon and citrus, with a slight astringency on the tongue that quickly transformed into intense salivation. Honestly… the flavor expression was fantastic.

What impressed me even more was how rounded and clean the entire cup felt. It’s exactly the kind of coffee you could keep drinking every day without ever getting tired of it. Truly excellent.

Slow Coffee in Shanghai: A Hidden Café That Invites You to Take Your Time

 As one of China’s top-tier metropolitan cities, Shanghai, to me, is defined not only by its remarkable openness and cultural diversity, but also by one underlying force that fuels it all: speed.

It’s a city where even red lights make you want to hurry across the street. Time here is measured with precision—subways arrive every few minutes, food deliveries show up within minutes, emails are expected to be answered within minutes. Beneath the city’s glamour often lies a quiet sense of anxiety. Sometimes, when we step into a café, it’s not entirely for the coffee—it’s to catch our breath.

Maybe it’s the younger generation that understands this quiet helplessness the most. That’s why the phrase “Take your time in life” feels especially gentle. And it was exactly this kind of gentleness that moved me during my recent visit.

Tucked away at 222 Danshui Road in Shanghai’s Huangpu District is a café with a simple, memorable name: Buji Café Shop. Buji—which literally means “no rush”—echoes the message displayed right at the entrance: “Take your time in life.” In a city where “faster” has become a form of productivity, and coffee itself is often reduced to a functional caffeine fix, this place feels like a quiet act of resistance—an invitation to slow down and simply sit for a while.

I especially love the storefront of Buji. Paired with a bicycle overflowing with fresh flowers, it feels like a scene from an early spring outing—effortless and serene. I’m quite familiar with Danshui Road; over the years, I’ve visited many cafés here. The narrow, old streets carry a sense of local culture, along with the warmth of everyday life. If you truly take the time to experience Shanghai, you’ll find that beneath the fast-paced surface, there’s a softness capable of healing you. “Taking it slow” here isn’t about laziness or giving up—it’s more like being told: here, you’re allowed not to rush.

Right by the entrance sits a fish tank filled with tropical fish, catching the attention of nearly everyone who passes by. Some children gently tap on the glass to interact, others pause to watch, and some are drawn inside, ordering a coffee and quietly observing the fish glide freely through the water. In a way, this too feels like the perfect expression of “taking it slow.”

The café itself is compact, but the high ceiling makes it feel open and airy. There’s also a small loft upstairs—a cozy little nook you can claim as your own. If you’re looking for a quiet moment alone, the downstairs area feels like a sanctuary for the soul.

In a place like this, I prefer sitting at the bar. It gives me a reason to spend two minutes watching a shot of espresso slowly drip into the cup. I can zone out while staring at the fish tank—and I even noticed one particularly assertive fish claiming the best spot where the water temperature and oxygen levels are just right. A row of unfamiliar potted plants sits nearby, each quietly radiating resilience. In that moment, I realized this kind of “slowness” isn’t about procrastination—it’s about carving out a space for yourself within the city’s dense rhythm, a space that isn’t dictated by efficiency.

The café offers four house espresso beans, each with its own catchy name. After taking a closer look, I put together my own combination. The barista even complimented my order, saying it’s a favorite among many regulars—so I must’ve done something right, haha.

One of their single-origin espresso options, called “Orange Sea,” is a dark-roasted natural Ethiopian. Its dry aroma, enhanced by the deeper roast, carries hints of chocolate, but more prominently, notes of dried fruit. It holds onto the classic foundation of traditional espresso while adding layers of flavor complexity, making it a highly versatile bean.

I naturally chose it for a flat white. The result was smooth and well-balanced, with a rich sweetness. It turned out cleaner than I expected, filled with dried fruit notes—like red fruits transformed into fruit leather—along with a soft, rounded texture reminiscent of a creamy cake.

At that moment, the phrase “Take your time in life”—displayed above the bar—felt like more than just decoration. It seemed like a declaration of the owner’s philosophy toward extraction. Not every Ethiopian coffee needs to be lightly roasted to preserve floral notes. A darker roast, when done right, can bring out the richness of dried fruits and a creamy softness—an unexpected delight worth savoring slowly. And by allowing enough time for the coffee grounds and water to interact, you extract the bean’s most authentic flavors. This kind of “slowness” is a form of respect for the integrity of the coffee.

For contrast, I also chose a lighter, medium roast option—a Colombian washed coffee called “La Vie en Rose.” Its dry aroma carries a hint of tropical fruit. It works especially well as a black coffee, since an Americano allows the flavors to fully open up. You’ll taste a bright balance of fruity acidity and sweetness, followed by notes of caramel and a touch of chocolate toward the finish. Its layered profile evolves with each sip, offering a vivid, almost tangible sense of progression.

Talking about “taking it slow” in Shanghai is, in many ways, both a luxury and a form of romance. It’s not about giving up the hustle—it’s about knowing that when you’re tired, there’s a chair waiting for you; when it rains, there’s a warm cup of coffee ready. Life is long—it won’t be defined by the time it takes to enjoy one cup of coffee.

To me, the phrase on the storefront is also an invitation. To those who walk in, it says: there’s no rush here—you can sit all afternoon and leave whenever you’re ready. And to those just passing by: even if you don’t step inside, if that one sentence makes you pause for a second, brings a faint smile to your lips, or makes you quietly think, “Yeah… no need to rush,” then you’ve already formed a warm, subtle connection—with this café, and with the city itself.

Kenyan Peaberry Coffee Review | Kindred Coffee Australia | Nyeri Washed SL28 SL34 Ruiru 11 Flavor Notes

 It’s been a long time since I last had a peaberry. So today, let’s brew a washed Kenya from Kindred Coffee in Australia.

As many of you know, I spent a month in Australia not long ago. During that time, my café visits led me to discover more outstanding local roasters. That “shop-within-a-shop” experience—where one café introduces you to another roaster, which leads you to yet another—felt like a chain of delightful discoveries. This particular bag was an unexpected find during my visit to Exchange in Adelaide. Later, I realized that Kindred collaborates with quite a few local cafés; you’ll often spot their beans neatly lined up on retail shelves. So today, through this tasting review, I’d also like to share a bit about the roaster behind it.

Australia is home to countless small-but-exceptional roasters. Regardless of their production scale, many of them rank among the world’s best in terms of green sourcing and roasting quality. Roasting, after all, is a process of revealing flavor, while terroir lays the foundation of a coffee’s character. In many ways, to drink coffee is to taste its origin. Micro-lots or lesser-known subregions—often hard to access back home—are abundantly available in Australia. That’s part of what makes café hopping there so exciting. If you ever visit, I highly recommend seeking out origins you’ve never tried before. You might stumble upon an unexpected flavor revelation.

Kindred Coffee was founded in 2019. While the brand itself is relatively young, its founders, Alex and David, have spent over 35 years working in and around specialty coffee. In the beginning, they roasted in shared spaces—what they fondly called being “nomadic roasters.” Today, they operate their own fully equipped roastery with two Probat machines (a P5 and a P12), along with a Kaffe Logic sample roaster. Kindred places strong emphasis on direct trade relationships, building long-term partnerships with both green coffee traders and coffee producers. These stable supply chains are essential to maintaining quality year-round. Every roast is tracked and documented to ensure consistency—a detail that speaks to their professionalism.

It had been far too long since I last drank Kenyan coffee—especially a peaberry. When I spotted this bag during my café visit, I ordered it without hesitation. The price was consistent both in partner cafés and on their online store. Compared to other roasters, Kindred’s beans are slightly more premium. This 250g bag cost 31 AUD (about 153 RMB). The coffee comes from Nyeri, one of Kenya’s most celebrated and respected coffee regions. Located on the southern and western slopes of Mount Kenya at elevations between 1,500 and 2,100 meters, Nyeri benefits from mineral-rich red volcanic soil, ample rainfall, and ideal temperatures—all of which contribute to its exceptional cup quality.

Even within such a renowned region, being able to taste coffee from a small, distinctive washing station highlights the depth of Australian roasters’ sourcing. This lot comes from the Nduma washing station, established in 1987 on the slopes of Mount Kenya. Nduma works with up to 665 members who supply ripe cherries. Farmers must adhere to strict harvesting standards, picking only fully ripe cherries and delivering them the same day for processing to prevent unwanted fermentation.

What’s even more impressive is the varietal composition: SL28, SL34, and Ruiru 11—arguably the backbone of Nyeri, if not all of Kenya.
SL28 is known for its signature blackcurrant acidity. It represents the classic Kenyan profile, achieving remarkable balance between acidity, sweetness, and body, with layered complexity and a long finish.
SL34 tends to be heavier and more syrupy than SL28, offering a rounder mouthfeel and slightly softer acidity, with pronounced sweetness.
Ruiru 11, a hybrid variety, is often more subdued in flavor. It contributes deeper, grounding notes—think wood, nuts, or grains. While less flamboyant, it enhances overall balance and drinkability.

When I opened the bag, I was immediately delighted by the sight of those perfectly round peaberries. True to the PB label, there were virtually no flat beans mixed in—clear evidence of careful sorting. Considering the premium paid for peaberries, this “what you see is what you get” quality control feels necessary and reassuring.

After grinding, the first aroma that rose from the dry grounds was blood orange—not just generic citrus, but a bright, juicy orange layered with high sweetness. Honey and floral notes followed, creating a dry fragrance that felt genuinely uplifting.

I brewed this coffee multiple times, generally using 15 grams of coffee with 228–237 grams of water, aiming for a brew ratio around 1:15. The final yield was about 185–200 grams, resulting in a beverage ratio between 1:12 and 1:13. Personally, I found that a slightly tighter beverage ratio produced better flavor concentration. That said, minor parameter adjustments didn’t dramatically change the profile. At its core, this is a classic Kenyan expression—citrus-forward with tropical sweetness—almost universally appealing.

The wet aroma revealed a blend of orange and plum, or perhaps more accurately, a gooseberry-like acidity. Beneath that brightness, there was a subtle, deeper bittersweet undertone. On the palate, citrus leads the way, but the acidity is notably gentle—the kind that feels refreshing rather than sharp. A full body combined with a juicy texture creates a smooth, pleasurable mouthfeel. The finish transitions into a sweet yet profound tone, carrying hints reminiscent of licorice-apricot and a tea-like bittersweetness. The progression is seamless, the flavor structure clearly defined, and the acidity clean and transparent.

This cup reminded me why Kenyan coffee remains timeless. Some origins impress with novelty; others endure because they are simply, undeniably good.

El Salvador Gesha Coffee Review｜CO₂ Macerated Honey Process from Finca Ethiopia

 When you think of El Salvador coffee, what flavor notes come to mind first? Honey, caramel, brown sugar? Chocolate—especially milk chocolate—toffee, nuts? Many people are drawn to El Salvador coffees for their balance, softness, and layered complexity, which is why they’re often described as a benchmark for Central American coffee.

If I had to summarize the core flavor profile of El Salvador coffee, I’d say it’s defined by a pronounced sweetness, gentle yet bright acidity, a rich and silky mouthfeel, and a satisfying sense of structure and depth.

Today’s coffee, however, adds another dimension to that familiar picture. It sharpens your perception of El Salvador’s terroir at a more granular, regional level—almost filling in details you didn’t realize were missing. This is a bean with a strong flavor memory, and it’s absolutely worth a stop on your “origin-exploration journey” through El Salvador’s micro-regions.

A great cup of El Salvador coffee rarely leans toward anything aggressively intense. Instead, it feels like an elegant lady or gentleman—balanced and refined, sweet and smooth, with soft, bright acidity layered over classic chocolate and nutty undertones, finishing clean and lingering.
Well-known regions in El Salvador include the Apaneca–Ilamatepec mountain range, Chalatenango, and the Santa Ana volcano area. This CO₂ macerated honey-processed Gesha from Finca Ethiopia comes from the Apaneca region, where elevations above 1,200 meters and dramatic day-night temperature swings lead to more concentrated flavors, finer acidity, and greater complexity.

You might be wondering about the name—Ethiopia? Is this El Salvador or Ethiopia? 😄
In fact, Finca Ethiopia is one of the flagship farms of Los Naranjos Café. Established in 2018, this 34.5-hectare farm was renamed as a tribute to coffee’s birthplace. Of the total land, only 13 hectares are cultivated, while the rest is preserved as native forest to protect local flora and fauna.
Located behind the Ilamatepec volcano, the farm benefits from mineral-rich volcanic soil and a climate ideal for coffee cultivation. All the coffee is shade-grown under native trees, which plays a key role in producing higher-quality beans.

A Coffee Journey

The beans I tasted came from Zhu Huan Coffee, an “old friend” I’ve collaborated with before. Though they’re still a relatively young roaster, I’ve watched their roasting style mature over time. Their single-dose packaging, in particular, has become increasingly refined. After several rounds of tasting and evaluation, what stood out to me was how clearly the roast expresses terroir while still leaving a memorable flavor impression—something I consider essential.

Once ground, the dry aroma bursts with intense floral and fruity notes—deep red florals, quite concentrated—along with hints of candied fruit and malt sugar. Single-dose packs usually come in at a little over 16 grams; I’ll often use one or two beans to purge the grinder, then brew with 15 grams.
My total brew time was about 1 minute 41 seconds. The wet aroma after brewing reminded me of gently simmered fruit—orange and cherry—like a light fruit broth.

On the palate, what surprised me most was the texture. Even at a final brew ratio of 1:13, the cup felt light and refreshing rather than heavy. The acidity was elegant and restrained, with notes of orange and a tea-like bitterness at the finish. As the temperature dropped slightly, the floral character became even more expressive, almost resembling the aroma of fresh rose pastry. That transitional layering of flavors is where this coffee really shines—and it’s quite lovely.

This tasting sparked a deeper interest in Finca Ethiopia for me. A closer look revealed that their Gesha is already well known for its bright, juicy, and exceptionally clean profile. The farm relies on manual weed control using tools like machetes to avoid chemical herbicides, conducts soil research to guide nutrient management, and implements erosion control and water-collection pits to protect groundwater.
Before harvest, cherries undergo careful sweetness testing to ensure only the best fruit is processed. Last year, the farm also placed 7th in the experimental processing category (anaerobic natural) at the Cup of Excellence, making it a producer—and a region—well worth watching for coffee lovers.

Why a $6 Pour-Over Coffee Isn’t Expensive: A Real Cost Breakdown

 Over the past few years, rising green coffee prices have been discussed nonstop, and naturally, café pricing has climbed along with them. Take pour-over coffee, for example. In my view, pricing a cup at ¥45 is already quite fair—almost a “conscience price.” Most pour-overs today fall in the ¥50–80 range, and for rare or auction lots, prices can easily exceed ¥100 per cup.

So today, let’s take a middle ground and carefully break down a ¥45 pour-over. Where does the cost really go?

Before talking about cost, we need to clarify what actually makes up a cup of pour-over coffee. If you think it’s just “coffee beans + hot water,” that’s far too simplistic. When calculating cost, you can’t limit yourself to visible material expenses alone.

I’ve discussed this topic with several café owners, and the breakdown can be roughly summarized as follows:

• Visible material costs: ~15–20%

• Hidden operational & labor costs: ~40–50%

• Knowledge & experience premium: ~20–30%

• Brand value & space (rent): ~15–25%

Once you see the categories clearly, you’ll realize that the logic behind every cup of coffee is far more complex than it appears—and the parts you assume to be the biggest costs are often the least significant.

1. Visible Material Costs: The “Liquid” in Your Cup

Let’s start with the most intuitive cost—the coffee you actually drink.

Many people assume most of the cost comes from the beans themselves, but in reality, their share is much lower than expected. A typical pour-over uses about 15–20 grams of coffee. Taking a decent-quality specialty single-origin as an example, green coffee might cost anywhere from ¥80 to ¥200 per kilogram—or even more. Let’s choose a middle value of ¥120/kg.

At that price, the green coffee cost per cup is roughly ¥1.8–2.4. During roasting, coffee loses about 12–18% of its weight, and this loss must be factored in. After roasting loss, the bean cost rises to about ¥3–4.5 per cup. Add packaging, roasting labor, and energy costs, and you’re looking at another ¥1–2 per cup.

Next comes equipment depreciation and consumables used during brewing, which also fall under visible material costs.

For pour-over, the essentials are filter paper and water. A high-quality filter paper typically costs ¥0.3–0.8 per sheet. Specialty cafés usually use filtered or customized water—not expensive, but indispensable. Let’s estimate filter paper plus water at ¥0.5–1 per cup.

Other tools—kettles, scales, grinders—contribute only a tiny amount per cup when amortized, but their upfront investment is significant. Let’s assign ¥1 per cup here.

All told, visible material costs come out to roughly ¥4.5–8 per cup.

2. Hidden Operational & Labor Costs: Invisible but Critical

This is the hardest part to quantify, yet it forms the backbone of daily café operations.

Labor is the largest expense. The barista preparing your coffee isn’t just pushing buttons. They need to understand extraction theory, know the characteristics of each bean, and adjust parameters based on daily temperature and humidity. Their salary, training, and social insurance all factor in.

On top of that, many cafés now include explanations during pour-over service—guiding you through the order, introducing the beans, brewing, cleaning equipment, and resetting the bar. All of this takes time. Let’s estimate ¥6–9 per cup for labor.

Then there’s rent and utilities. Rent is a fixed cost that must be precisely allocated across every drink sold. Add water, electricity, internet, and property management fees, and you’re looking at ¥4–6 per cup.

Combined, this category totals roughly ¥10–15 per cup.

At this point, just the first two categories already account for ¥15–23—nearly half of a ¥45 pour-over. These costs are relatively fixed and unavoidable.

The remaining categories are “softer” costs. Many people overlook them, but they are absolutely real.

3. Knowledge & Experience Premium

This part matters a lot.

Many independent cafés put great ritual and care into their pour-over service. Beyond brewing, they may explain the process, guide you through dry and wet aromas, provide flavor cards, or use specialized sensory tools. This experiential layer is the fundamental difference between specialty pour-over and fast-food coffee—and it’s where the core value lies.

Behind the scenes, café owners also spend enormous time and money selecting beans from hundreds or thousands of samples, ensuring distinctive flavors and stable quality, and building reliable green coffee supply chains. Logistics, customs, warehousing—all of these are involved.

This category reasonably adds another ¥6–9 per cup.

4. Brand Value & Space Cost

Finally, there’s brand and space.

For many people, a café functions as a “third place.” They’re not just buying a drink—they’re paying to spend time in a comfortable, thoughtfully designed space. Interior design, furniture, lighting, music, and overall atmosphere all contribute to that value.

For more established cafés, brand recognition itself also carries weight. Altogether, this category adds roughly ¥4.5–7.5 per cup.

So What’s the Total?

When you add everything up, the total cost of a pour-over coffee comes to approximately ¥25.5–39.5 per cup.

If the café is using auction-grade Geisha beans and charging over ¥100 per cup, the green coffee cost alone can jump to 30–50% of the total. Meanwhile, the knowledge and experience premium remains strong. From that perspective, such pricing becomes easier to rationalize.

So if you see a café pricing its pour-over at around ¥30–50, it’s very likely operating on a thin-margin, high-volume strategy. The net profit per cup may only be a few yuan at best.

Muchun Coffee Hangzhou｜A Quiet Neighborhood Café with a Dog & Specialty Coffee

 For me, making a trip to Xiaoshan is no small thing. A one-way subway ride costs 9 yuan, which somehow already feels like crossing city borders just to be here. Walking through the streets of Xiaoshan always stirs mixed emotions in me. I don’t really recognize anything anymore, yet at the same time, it all seems faintly connected to memories buried deep inside. Maybe in a past life I had some unfinished bond with Hangzhou. That must be why, in this life, I struggle my way here again and again, just to leave a mark in my own story.

Xiaoshan was where my Hangzhou journey first began. Even as time passes and visits become rare, I still hope to find moments that move me or surprise me when I return. Today, I want to talk about a café called Muchun Coffee, located at No. 24 Baichilou Road, Xiaoshan District, Hangzhou. It was recommended to me by a friend long ago, saved and bookmarked for ages, quietly waiting for the right moment of fate.

Sometimes my encounters with cafés feel very Libra-like — calm, unforced, and go-with-the-flow. No planning, no awkward small talk, just something that happens naturally. Muchun Coffee sits on a street corner, visible from both sides. I happened to approach from the side with the smaller entrance. As I pushed open the door, I was greeted by an adorable Border Collie with one pirate eye. Later I learned he’s the shop dog, a four-year-old named “Baiwan.”

Baiwan welcomed me enthusiastically the moment I stepped inside. I gave him a good head pat — he was way too cute to resist. Truly a professional shop dog. Once you’re greeted like that, how could you not stay for a few extra cups? 😂

“Muchun” — I personally like to read it as “Bathing in Spring.” Maybe it’s because this year’s winter has been unusually warm, or maybe it’s the gentle indoor heat combined with the café’s minimalist design, tinged with subtle Japanese aesthetics. Everything feels like a soft spring breeze. I really love the atmosphere of a true neighborhood café. Even on a weekday afternoon, customers kept coming in, one after another — most of them regulars.

I chose a quiet corner seat by the bar. This time, I just wanted to drink my coffee in peace. A regular sitting at the bar smiled at me and said, “Why don’t you come sit with us and chat?” It was the first time a stranger had ever invited me like that. My introvert instincts kicked in immediately — today I just wanted to enjoy being alone — but still, I felt genuinely warmed by the gesture.

Every corner of this small café feels like a frozen frame of beauty. Discovering it was like unlocking a tiny world of its own. And it made me wonder: whose “small world” are we living in right now? The details tucked away in each corner feel almost microscopic, drawing you in effortlessly. Even waiting for the coffee to be ready felt unusually short.

I have zero resistance to dogs. I adore them. Baiwan, the four-year-old social butterfly, does his best to greet everyone. It’s like he can sense your mood and emotional state. That kind of healing presence is really hard to put into words. Looking into his eyes, I even caught a glimpse of something wise — or maybe I’m just projecting, haha. High intelligence really does require social interaction to meet emotional needs, doesn’t it? Petting him was pure joy.

Honestly, it feels like Baiwan is the real owner of the place. The house blend is even named after him. I ordered their default No.1 bean, the “Baiwan Blend,” as a flat white to open up my palate. Clean, clear notes of nuts and chocolate. My only requirement for a café’s house beans is simple: as long as they’re clean, I’m happy. The finish had a lovely lingering sweetness. Delicious.

I also ordered a Geisha blend as a hot Americano. It had been a long time since I last tasted something that truly screamed “Geisha.” The moment the cup reached my lips, I was already smiling. Even the wet aroma was bursting with floral and fruity notes — citrus, dried berries, and rose. I could almost pinpoint it to Damask rose, that distinct rose hydrosol vibe. A hint of fermentation layered on top gave it a subtle “rose pastry” impression. So good. And the price? Beautiful. After being surrounded by trendy, flashy, influencer-driven cafés in the city, finding a place where you can just sit quietly, drink good coffee, skip the gimmicks, and feel genuine sincerity — that’s incredibly precious.

Four-year-old Baiwan has such pure and honest expressions. While I was sitting there, he would whimper softly and scratch at the door whenever a familiar customer left, like mild separation anxiety. His owner would gently reassure him, “They’re just stepping out for a moment.” At four years old, he’s already mature and calm — yet the instant a toy is thrown, he lights up with uncontrollable joy. A dog’s world is that simple. So simple that your presence becomes their entire universe.

Maybe he didn’t like seeing me sitting alone in the corner. He came over, stood by my side, and let me pet him freely, wearing the most satisfied expression on his face. In that moment, we gave each other love — quietly, sincerely, and completely.