I found a hidden bakery down an alleyway in Birmingham and felt like I was 300 miles away

I was huddled under the entrance to Asda, having just stepped off the high street to take shelter from the rain, and was fishing my phone out of my soggy coat pocket to fire up Google Maps when I spotted the very place I was trying to find - right in front of my face.

It was as if the greengrocer and the mobile phone shop on the opposite side of the road had magically shifted a few metres, allowing the little alleyway to spring up in the gap - like that street in Harry Potter. I must have been to this part of Kings Heath high street a dozen times before and walked past Kings Court without ever noticing it existed.

This time, I was there on a mission to find a French bakery that sold 'the best croissants outside of Paris', according to its customers. The last time I wandered down an alleyway in Birmingham, I found a free way into a stunning gated park, so I was hopeful this excursion would uncover another of the city's hidden gems (and ideally some world-class pastries while I was at it).

Read more: I went to a stunning bakery in Birmingham with great food and even better people watching

In stark contrast to the busy main road, the passageway just off it felt quaint, with potted plants placed next to the doorways, chairs and tables outside and fairy lights draped between the buildings. The warm smell of freshly-baked bread and sweet vanilla told me I was in the right place before my eyes confirmed it.

Levain and Cherry was one of only a handful of businesses bordering the miniature street alongside the likes of The Heath bookshop, the MilkCake Man café, Pause coffee shop, a tattoo studio and another French delicacy in this concealed corner of Brum, La Sante's cheese and wine bar.

The tiny bakery wasn't quite what I'd expected - it wasn't really a shop at all, but rather a stall in the doorway of one. The actual store at the back was where all the baking was being done.

Dozens of plump, flaky pastries and glistening, golden bakes filled a wooden table at the front, each row slightly different to the next. Some were topped with grated Parmesan and others with pistachio crumbs, chunky raisins or chocolate chips. Huge triangular wedges of crusty focaccia were dripping with olive oil and the mounds of croissants in the window were intricate to the point of artistry, with fine layers leading to a neat swirl at either end.

"Bonjour!" a cheery man behind the counter called in a genuine French accent, breaking my pastry-induced trance. "What can I get you?" I'd been browsing for a couple of minutes already, but I hadn't a clue. Everything looked so perfect, I was tempted to order one of everything and live off them for the rest of the week, then I remembered I didn't have a £100 pastry fund factored into this month's spending budget. "What do you recommend?" I asked to give myself a bit longer to decide.

The man in the apron set about explaining all the goods for sale - there were bakes filled with creme patisserie, chocolate-covered cruffins, sticky cinnamon buns, baguettes as long as my arm, doughy swirls infused with marmite and cheese, one with a dippy egg baked into the top and another stuffed with crumbly black pudding.

After much deliberation, I went with the mushroom, ricotta and pesto brioche, the cheesy marmite number, a croissant (to see if they stood up to the reviews) and, on the professional's recommendation, a "French classic" pain aux raisins. My hefty haul came to £17.45. I was stashing my purse back into my pocket when the chatty baker popped an extra treat onto my stack of bagged-up goodies - a canelé, he told me, which hailed from near his hometown in Bordeaux.

I was chuffed. For a moment, it felt like I was 300 miles away on a backstreet somewhere in Paris, where I imagined bakers across from cheese and wine shops gave little extras to first-time customers to make sure they came back again. I took one last look at the Eiffel Tower emblazoned on the window and hurried back to my car to scoff my gift out of the rain.

It was delightful. The caramelised shell gave way to a gooey, vanilla custard filling. I saved the rest of the treats to share with my husband when I got home. The croissant really was as good as they say, each wafer-thin layer of pastry cracking as I took a bite, however I actually preferred the pain aux raisin - even more surprising, given that I'm not a big raisin fan - but this was something special. It was sweeter, denser and moist and sprinkled with sticky, fruity jewels.

My swirl wasn't as Marmite-y as I'd hoped but nicely spongy, with pockets of sharp melted cheese inside. The salty, herby pesto on the mushroom brioche cut through the richness of the creamy ricotta, which made it a total mess to eat, but the flavour combination was insanely good.

If you're looking for a good artisan bakery, Birmingham is home to a baker's dozen, but none ooze Parisian charm like Levain and Cherry. Those crusty croissants are certainly worth travelling across the city to try, but it's the canelés I'll be going back for.