I Stumbled Across Beijing's Best Espresso in the Unlikeliest of Locations

I am a caffeine addict.

I don't "nurse" a cup of coffee over long conversations, and I adulterate my coffee with nothing that is likely to delay the pure adrenaline rush of caffeine cruising through my veins.

Hell, I'd mainline coffee if they served it in syringes.

Short of that, the most efficient method I know of to get my hot caffeine injection is an espresso: Quick, to the point, and into the bloodstream without futzing around with added milk, sugar, foams, powders and other bullsh*t.

After a decade and a half in Beijing, I've grown accustomed to enduring all manner of sh*tty cups of coffee, which I am willing to tolerate because, dammit, I need my fix.

Like a die-hard junkie that utilizes second-hand needles found in a dumpster to shoot junk into the same festering vein-hole, there is a point where the need for caffeine overrides all other drives, including taste, dignity and decorum.

That means I keep a stash of Nescafe powder (the pure stuff, not that hideous 2+1) in home cabinets, office drawers and in hidden suitcase pockets. It means I am no stranger calling McDonald's and paying an 8 kuai delivery charge for the delivery of one cup of coffee at 4am because I ran out at home. It means attempting to subsist on whatever off-brand ersatz instant coffee powder that is available at a third-tier city Jingkelong ripoff store during trips outside the capital city. I've done it all in the pursuit of caffeine.

Suffice to say I am not a connoisseur of fine coffee, nor am I a coffee snob – far from it. I'll drink anything.

However, all else being equal I'd like my coffee to taste and smell like something more than a used ashtray a la Starbucks.

(While on the subject, is there any doubt that Starbucks must have a Central Roasting Facililty somewhere on Planet Earth, and every time a batch gets roasted to the point of ash, it's immediately shipped to China?)

So it was much to my surprise that during a typical afternoon of caffeine withdrawal this week at The Place, I stumbled on one of the best cups I've had in 15 years of Beijing life.

I had initially ducked into Costa Coffee to get an espresso after my morning cups were wearing off and I was alternating between snippy and comatose with my eight-year-old I had taken shopping.

I found three customers ahead of me at Costa, which in Beijing Coffeeshop Time represents a 30-minute wait as each discusses their order in intimate detail with the person standing behind the counter, who then reinterprets it to tell it to the barista that is standing about 20 millimeters behind them, who then takes her sweet, sweet time to make up a cup of joe.

So I left in a huff and in search of a quicker fix.

Next door was the new Beijing outpost of Marks & Spencer, which has a bakery attached, and more importantly, I could see via the shopfront windows, no customers in line.

With nothing but a quick fix in mind, I went in and ordered a double espresso.

Now Marks & Spencer is a place I most firmly associate with large size men's underwear and trashy Percy Pig candies, so I wasn't expecting much.

The first clue I was in for a surprise was that I didn't need to repeat my order. This is a store with perhaps 1,000 SKUs and coffee is certainly not their main business. But nevertheless I could tell the person on the other side knew exactly what she was doing as she stepped up to the gleaming chrome machine that stood behind her. This was not someone who was on break from restocking the Christmas Puddings aisle.

Moments later I was served a small takeaway cup with a dainty biscuit balanced atop, which I uncapped immediately for administration to my fading endocrine system.

A thick, dark foam clung to the sides of the cup and a chocolaty aroma reached my nostrils. I partook, and instead of the "Starbucks Shudder" I typically experience as the acrid taste of another batch of burnt beanwater hits my palate, I was overtaken by a inky, rich and definitively tasty cup of coffee.

My senses were overwhelmed. I began to recall that a cup of coffee can actually be enjoyed rather than endured. I didn't want it to end. And at RMB 19 for a double espresso, I was not paying a premium for this rapture.

Oh I am sure there are better espressos to be had out there as Beijing's coffee culture has evolved to the point where there is actually such a thing as a barista that puts effort into their products. But given The Place is in the crossroads of my existence, I can see myself popping in every time I'm nearby. Give it a try, I think you'll be surprised.

Image: Michael Wester