Chatei Hatou is L-shaped, with the long counter, which seats about 12, at the bottom of the L to your right as you enter, stretching away ahead of you. There’s a row of two- and four-person tables against the wall opposite the counter, seating 12 in all, while at the far end, the top of the L stretches off to the left. It has two gorgeous, wooden, ten-person oval tables and more two-/four-person tables, with matching décor, all dark wood, with book cases and an upright clock.

Chatei Hatou serves a limited coffee menu, with a blend and five different origins from around the world. The same coffees were available on both my visits, separated by 15 months. There’s also a limited selection of coffee-with-milk drinks, one of which was the Cafe au Lai, recommended by the folks at Nem. This is a 50/50 blend of coffee and hot milk, both poured into your cup at great height from separate pots, the spectacle alone making it worthwhile! The resulting drink was very rich, although I couldn’t tell you much about coffee. However, it went well with the milk and it’s something I could drink all day, reminding me of the cafe au lait I used drink in Paris back in day before I became an espresso drinker.

On my return, I went for a filter coffee, choosing the Guatemalan. Chatei Hatou uses large, ceramic Kalita filters and everything is done by eye: no scales or timers here. The beans are measured out into a metal container then coarsely ground, either directly into the filter paper (no pre-rinsing here) or, for larger volumes, back into the container.

The water is poured directly onto the top of the coffee in a series of short, regular pours, using a gooseneck pot, which is regularly topped up from a huge kettle kept bubbling away on a hot plate below counter. I timed one extraction at 4½ minutes and, when the coffee is done, it’s poured into a pre-warmed cup to serve. These beauties come in a variety of shapes and no two are the same.

A glass of water, which is continuously topped up, comes with your coffee, while if you order tea, it’s served in a pot with a candle underneath it to keep it warm. Finally, you pay at the till by the door as you leave, a tradition in many of Japanese places.

So to my coffee. Strong and dark, although not bitter, the taste reminded me of the Vietnamese coffee I make for myself, with a hint of sweetness. Although there’s no subtlety in the flavour or evolution as it cools, I enjoyed it.