Who does Amsterdam's best pain au chocolat? Part deux.
12 more bakeries, 12 more pain au chocolat, but which one tops them all?
Before I die, I hope to contribute something meaningful to the world, like a novel. The very exciting news is: I’m actually one step closer to that. Until then, it seems my most meaningful cultural production has been February’s pain au chocolat taste test. I didn’t expect it to blow up quite as much as it did.
Unfortunately, most of the blow up was caused by the fact that I – incredibly selfishly – didn’t include every. single. one. of Amsterdam’s artisan bakeries. Berated is the word, I was heavily berated. Listen, I’m just a boy with a laptop trying to write about food. I have time and fiscal constraints. Amsterdam has dozens of bakeries. Ten seemed like a good compromise.
Apparently not. I was met with countless cries of UM EXCUSE ME WHERE IS [INSERT BAKERY]. I’m sorry, okay? The more viral it went, the more detached from reality it became. WHY DIDN’T YOU GO TO PATISSERIE KUYT? My answer: BECAUSE THEY DON’T DO PAIN AU CHOCOLAT HON. People were fffffuming that I hadn’t included Le Fournil de Sébastien – except I had included them, evidenced by a) the photo of a pain au chocolat from Le Fournil de Sébastien, b) the fact I literally @ed them in the caption. Jeez. Talk about society’s declining media literacy rate.
It didn’t end there: I had Louf messaging me to tell me angry Louf fans were messaging them. Yikes, sorry Louf! But no fans were angrier than fans of Farine. I said in the piece that I wanted to visit Farine but couldn’t make it work because they’re only open half the week (so French). Did Farine fans care? No, they did not. I’d have had a better time if I’d commented under a Taylor Swift post, slagging off her outfit. Well, Farinies (like Swifties, but for Farine, do you get it?), your day has come.
In fact, a lot of bakeries’ days have come. A whopping dozen of them. After this, I’m not eating any more pain au chocolat. I simply refuse. My arteries are screaming out for an atherectomy (where you unclog them, I Googled it) and my laptop’s greasier than a U-joint in the driveshaft (something to do with cars, I Googled it).
As a reminder, here’s what I’m looking for in my pain au chocolat:
A good, dark bake is a must. Give me caramelisation. The lamination should be fully on display but it shouldn’t be unruly like an exploded jack-in-the-box. Imagine a flip book in use. Inside, there should be an even honeycomb structure – no obvious layers. This tripartite texture – crispy on the outside, softness in the middle, a slight bite of chocolate (I actually like my chocolate bar to be on the firmer side but I find this only achievable in colder weather) is what makes a pain au chocolat. In terms of flavour, there should be a strong buttery warmth, and the delicate, yeasty flavour of the dough shouldn’t be obliterated by the hum of dark chocolate.
As a disclaimer, let me say that none of these pain au choccies were bad. I deeply respect Amsterdam’s incredible bakery scene and the margins between places and their pastries are tiny. For that reason, your best pain au chocolat is probably your closest one.
Let’s go…
SAINT-JEAN
I honestly couldn’t tell you why SAINT-JEAN, a vegan bakery in de Jordaan, is so exceptionally popular. One day, the universe simply decided to bestow upon it a queue – two queues, technically – that are longer than my intestines (I have extraordinarily long intestines, they’re Olympic swimming pool length). Perhaps it’s the prime location? Perhaps the queue is made up of lactose intolerants desperate to snack without sh*tting themselves? Perhaps queues beget queues? What they don’t beget, apparently, are moreish pain au chocolat. Mine is disorderly: the layers are broken into bands and between them are gaps large enough to fit my head into. I’m unsure about the oiliness of the glaze, which gives the top a matte finish. Texturally, something is off, it’s like eating a stack of damp A4 paper. This pastry doesn’t solve the riddle of SAINT-JEAN’s popularity – but good for them, get the money, honey!
Pain au score: 4.5/10.
Rise
Rise’s pain au chocolat is shaped like a pair of binoculars. I can confirm that I do, indeed, bring them up to my eyes and look through. Sadly, there’s nothing to see – my painoculars are busted and I’m now sporting a scratched cornea at rapid risk of infection. There’s great texture on this: the outside shell is crunchier than a potato chip, the inside crumb has chewy integrity. I have to say, its double-barrelled nature is charming: once I’ve finished one side I can eat it all again! Or I can tear ‘n’ share it with a loved one! Which I won’t because I don’t share pastries! This is a good pain au choccy – it could do with a little more butteriness and the chocolate isn’t as complex as I’d like, but well done Rise, a sterling effort.
Pain au score: 8.2/10.
Deguelle Patisserie
Little-known Deguelle Patisserie produces pain au chocolat that attempt to look chic – I don’t know if I’m holding a pastry or a clutch. My issue is the top: it’s too thick and a little sticky. At one point, it actually clings to my jumper. In a moment of pure freak out, I wiggle my arm to get it off! GET IT OFF! It’s a very firm pain au chocolat, I need to recruit my glutes to chomp through it with some full body strength. That top layer is harder than a Jacob’s Cream Cracker and, devastatingly, it tastes a little charred. I find the chocolate overly sweet, the dough a little milky. Ah, this is style over substance but also the style has no substance. Wow, Tomek. Wow.
Pain au score: 3.8/10.
Farine
Farine, Farine, this bakery is your hot Parisian boyfriend (HPB), the kind of guy who’d ruin your life on your year abroad. He’s working on a book of poetry, except he isn’t. Hands never empty of a lit slim, he likes to proclaim without a hint of irony that he doesn’t know how to eat food without wine. God, I love him. The pastry has a beautiful, open inside, really one of the most gorgeous interiors – Parisian, what did you expect – and the softness is typical of French viennois’. The chocolate is quite fruity. I like the way my mouthful is bookended with sweetness. But overall, the pastry tastes quite young. It might be the fermentation. That, or I’m not willing to have my heart broken again. Sorry Farinies (please don’t dox me).
Pain au score: 8/10.
Pantopia
Pantopia’s pain au chocolat cost me an extraordinary €4.75 – perhaps unsurprising considering this patisserie is desperately trying to be an Apple store. Everything gleams. Pastries are showcased on plinths. Multiple servers hover about, taking your order regardless of where you’re standing. It makes a queue-loving Brit like me sweat like a criminal. Annoyingly, it’s an excellent pain au chocolat, baked well and egg yolk coloured on the inside. Unlike many of the others, it’s butter-forward, tasting like a 250g block of the good stuff. The shape, though? Thin, round, like a roll of masking tape. Why do the more expensive bakeries shape this way? So the pastry can fit neatly in an Hermès bag? There’s no way to eat other than to snap at its side like an alligator attempting a rhino. Still, it’s one of the best of the day.
Pain au score: 9/10.
L’Abeille
L’Abeille’s pain au chocolat looks like a hedgehog with its cute, spiky back. But the spread of them is too thin – as a statement look, it misses the mark. Inside, there is a large cave around the chocolate but beautiful layers do unfold out from there. It’s definitely a light pain au chocolat, crumbling quickly in the mouth – if I was judging on ASMR, this might win. But I’m a flavour queen, and the pastry’s featheriness means the taste constantly escapes from me. It’s a cumulus cloud, journeying on a breeze. I like my skies a little more dramatic than this.
Pain au score: 6.5/10.
Uncommon Bar
Uncommon Bar (opposite the café) is one of the most artfully designed spaces I know of, teetering on the edge of pretentiousness but just about clinging onto the cliff. The pastries are obscenely beautiful, some look like they’ve been through a loom. Strange then, that my pain au chocolat is visually unremarkable. The front has kissed another in the oven, leaving a little fish mouth. The top is too pale. This is one of the denser examples I eat today (I suspect it’s a little underproved, it’s quite bready in the middle), although that does give it pleasant heft in my mouth. The dough is delightful but the chocolate – a blast of cherry – is so powerful that I’d miss this the pastry’s subtler notes if I wasn’t (literally) picking it apart.
Pain au score: 7/10.
Olafbrood
Rusticity is the word that comes to mind, and I’m glad that it does, because I LOVE saying it: rusticity slips off the tongue like a silk sheet off a mattress. Say it with me: rusticity. I will always champion a bakery that cares less about the pursuit of structural engineering. But in exchange, I expect their bakes to be packed with flavour and Olafbrood’s pain au chocolat is not. It tastes too flat – my tastebuds search for a hook but find nothing to cling onto. There’s perhaps a raisiny note from somewhere. The chocolate is baritone in flavour, low and deep, but without much sweetness in the dough, it only deepens the dirge.
Pain au score: 4.8/10.
Margo’s
Margo’s pain au chocolat is an architectural delight: it’s more rounded than a rolodex. If you don’t know what that is, I implore you to be born before 2000. The shape is immaculately precise – do they cut dough using a laser? – and the webby insides might be the best of the day. This bakery is quietly plant-based and if you didn’t know what you were looking for, you might miss the fact. I do know what I’m looking for and yes, there are less fatty depths. But the flavour is somehow still exceptional, just broader and not as funky. The chocolate is a riot. This isn’t just a good alternate pain au chocolat, it’s an all-round GREAT pain au chocolat. I could eat the whole thing. I don’t because I’m going to Primavera in two weeks. This is a TERRIBLE time to be doing this challenge.
Pain au score: 9/10.
Brioche
Brioche’s pain au chocolat is no duffer. It’s been crafted well and the layers inside are paper thin: if I hold this pastry up to the window it illuminates like a floating lantern. The taste is quite morning-y, meaning fresh, bracing. There’s really not much to fault here… but I also don’t think it’s pushing any boats out. When the competition is this good, boats really need to be pushed out. In sum, it’s a workhorse pastry. It’s middle of the road. It’s a safe bet. I’m running out phrases. It’s a bird in the hand, worth more than two in the bush. It’s bob’s your uncle. It’s raining cats and dogs. It’s a cry for help– oops, no that’s me.
Pain au score: 8/10.