Baked in front of you
Our chimney cakes are wound onto wooden spits and turned over an open flame at the counter. You watch the sugar caramelise, and you get it within three minutes of it coming off the fire.
Chimney cakes turned over an open flame. Croissants folded over two days. Churros fried when you order them. Every dough and batter is made in our own kitchen — and every item on our menu names the city it came from.
We are not a restaurant. We are a bakery counter you can sit down in — and we would rather do a short list well than a long list adequately.
Our chimney cakes are wound onto wooden spits and turned over an open flame at the counter. You watch the sugar caramelise, and you get it within three minutes of it coming off the fire.
Croissant dough laminated over two days, doughnuts fried every morning, nata pastry rolled by hand, waffle and poffertjes batter mixed through the day. Nothing on the counter came out of someone else's box.
Half of any good café doesn't. So the hot chocolate is real melted chocolate, the masala chai is boiled with whole spice, and the matcha is whisked to order.
Hungarians call it kürtőskalács. A ribbon of sweet dough is wound onto a wooden spit, rolled in sugar, and turned over flame until the sugar melts into a crackling amber shell. It comes off the spit hollow — which is the whole point, because a hollow cake can be filled.
It is the rule we set ourselves, and it is why the menu holds together instead of reading like a list of nice things.
Croissants, doughnuts and bomboloni first thing, pastéis de nata by mid-morning, and chimney cakes, waffles, churros and poffertjes made to order all day.
Our menu page works like an ordering screen — tap anything to see exactly what goes into it, how we make it, and what it contains.
Open the menu →