Somewhere along Chogm Road in Sangolda — that eternally winding strip where cafés appear with the frequency of monsoon puddles — we came upon a relatively newish establishment calling itself Saint Cloud. Café-goers in Goa, note the name: it’s borrowed from a leafy Parisian suburb, which immediately raises expectations of elegance, patisserie wizardry, and the occasional artfully dishevelled barista. To its credit, Saint Cloud seems perfectly willing to rise to the challenge.
Inside, the aroma hits you first — that soothing, grown-up smell of fresh coffee which suggests that whatever sins you committed the night before can and will be forgiven. The décor is chic without being smug, all warm lighting and modern lines, the sort of place where you could unwind, write a novel, or gossip enthusiastically about people who aren’t present. In other words: perfect.
We’d only stopped because we were craving something sweet — a need as primal and legitimate as oxygen — and Saint Cloud presented itself like a sign from the pastry gods.
In the display, there were pastries, brownies, cakes and cookies that looked like they could double as a sophisticated paperweights. There were also more playful creations: Tiramisu Latte, doing its best impression of dessert in a mug; a Choris Berliner that seemed to wink at passersby; and flights of other sweet temptations clearly designed to seduce the weak-willed.
We ordered two cappuccinos, one Basque cake, and the Belgian choco chip pecan cookie. The cappuccinos arrived frothy and bold; the cookie, rich and satisfyingly hefty; the cake moist and springy with a faint swagger that all Basque cakes seem to possess.
Behind the counter, the kitchen stretched out — expansive, gleaming, the stainless-steel equivalent of a freshly sharpened scalpel. Spic and span. Hygienic enough to perform minor surgery in.
Those avoiding caffeine will be relieved to find a lineup of refreshing iced teas, clinking with ice and self-respect, along with savoury offerings — sandwiches, quiches, and a few other light bites — all of which suggest someone in the back takes flavour seriously.
As for the service, the manager (or perhaps the owner) displayed that uniquely Goan blend of warmth and unhurried charm — affable without being intrusive.
By the time we were polishing off the last sweet crumbs, it dawned on us that Saint Cloud isn’t one of those cafés screaming for Instagram validation or begging to be the next Big Thing. It’s far more civilised than that. It’s the sort of place that ambles into your afternoon, tucks a blanket around your metaphorical knees and hands you something warm to sip.
We left with that gentle, glowing contentment you only get from somewhere that does the simple things well — the sort of café you find once by accident and then keep returning to on purpose.
Honest Reviews 