Time for a Treat?

Treat Cafe in Hertex design studio
Durbanville
Cape Town

“They're so pretty!”

Deep brown sugar smothered upon decadent chocolate cake; buttery icing sitting atop another spotted with dark poppy seeds. speckled eggs sprinkled across a third cake oozing spice and another beside it bleeding red. It took all I had not to just whip out my camera right then and there.

“Can I help you?” I gave the woman beside me the briefest of up-and-downs, taking in her lime-green and black striped shirt and wondering where she might have gotten it. This was our waitress? I thought she was a customer.

“Do you have a table for two?”

Looking around the room at the tables filled with women sipping cappuccinos and sharing gossip, it didn't seem likely. Evidently Treat is a popular place for the middle-aged gossipy women of Durbanville, but our waitress didn't skip a beat.

“There's one at the front of house if you don't mind sitting there.”

We weren't there to socialise anyway.

“That will be perfect.”

We were quickly shown to our seats - a table, a good way away from the rest of the cafe, that I had thought was part of the display when I'd walked in. Hidden amidst the comfortable-looking couches and the swabs of patterned material that lined the wall of Hertex design studio, placed directly beneath a chandelier that looked like something out of a hotel, we sat ourselves down and waited for our menus. I took advantage of the first few minutes to grab my camera, as I am prone to do, and shoot away. But when, a few minutes later, I sat down again, we still had no menus.

“Maybe this wasn't such a good idea.”

We'd been seated for a good five minutes longer before the waitress remembered us.

“Are you ready to order?”

“No. We need menus.”

“Oh.” A flush of pink came over her cheeks and she rushed back to the cafe entrance to fetch us some. We didn't have a problem with her service again.

Looking at the menu, I couldn't help but wonder how much everything was going to cost. When a 170ml can of apple iced tea cost R17, I wasn't holding out too much hope for a cheap meal. But that wasn't going to stop me. I was a girl on a mission.

The food arrived quickly, beautifully presented, and we dug in only to discover that there was nothing special to it. Not bad, but nothing to go out of your way for either. But then, this wasn't a restaurant, not somewhere you would go for a lunch – this was a cafe, a place for tea and cake, and the cake was what had brought us here in the first place. Those beautiful cakes that had wowed me at the start. Nevermind the mediocre lunch, it could be overlooked as long as the cakes tasted as good as they looked.

We ate as much of the lunch as we could, neither of us cleaning our plates, and prepared ourselves for the glory that was awaiting us. What would it be? Chocolate? Lemon meringue? Red velvet? No, no. We decided to share two slices so that we could get a taste of each – the intriguingly decorated cinnamon cake and my favourite lemon-poppy. Minutes later, the slices were placed before us and we held our forks in awe before finally digging in. There was a moment's silence as we chewed. Revered silence perhaps?

“Does yours taste like butter?”

I nodded in agreement, the taste filling my mouth and suffocating any other. Our first impression didn't improve over the next few bitefuls. Eventually we gave up on the cakes, not finishing them either and decided to pay and leave before we could be disappointed by anything else.

“That will be R165.”

I fished around in my wallet for some cash and walked quickly through the beautifully decorated cafe to the exit. I couldn't get there quick enough.