Bora Boras, Banana Bread & Brown Sofas

Robert's Café
(Café Grub)
16B Akin Olugbade, Victoria Island
01 2702606

My friend, Udeme, is a great man. The first time we met we didn't get along. My friends and I took a little too long to decide what drink would go best with our cakes, and were treated to a performance of eye-rolling, note-pad flapping and dramatic sighing. The next time I had the privilege of being waited on by Udeme, his reception was even frostier! Perhaps because he remembered me as the girl with the time-wasting friends? I'm not sure, but dude was cold, so cold! Until I did something I scarcely do, but am determined to make a habit of, and asked him what his name was, where he was from etcetera. That little trick, plagiarised from Iggy, earned me a smile and some friendly banter. And we have been buddies ever since! Now when I walk into Robert's Café, even if he isn't the one to take our order, he somehow ends up serving me and my friends, with a big grin on his chubby face and a jolly Santa Clause-like jiggle in his (ever growing) belly.

I wouldn't attribute my permanent presence on the sofas at Robert's to the service (fond as I've become of Udeme), nor would I attribute it to the food. What does it for me at Robert's, is the level of comfort. With my butt ensconced in one of their brown sofas, I might as well be at any friend's house, hanging out in their living room with a warm slice of cake. I am that comfortable there! Plus it helps that I happen to have fallen in love with two items on their menu. The Bora Bora, which I believe is a fruit cocktail made from pineapple juice, grenadine and a ton of pink sugary goodness, and their banana bread (think warm, textured nutty cake with chunks of soft, but never gooey or sickly, banana). My Bora Bora and banana bread combo is literally heaven on earth.

Today though I stepped a little outside my comfort zone and ordered a toasted ham and cheese croissant. My verdict? Yummy! The toasted croissant was light and crisp, and not the chunky, crunchy mess that I have been presented with in some sandwich places in London. Don't get me wrong, I have tried other things on the Robert's menu before, especially during the good old days when Doctor Robert himself, the genius baker, could be sighted in the corner giving a telling off to some poor waiter or the other. But I have always gone running back to my banana bread and Bora Bora. Even after my croissant today, I ended up indulging in my usual with half a slice of carrot cake thrown in for good measure. My friend Tosin, who copied everything I ordered unashamedly, liked the carrot cake, but I wasn't impressed. The raisins killed it for me. Putting raisins in carrot cake is as bad as eating jollof rice with ketchup in my world.

The carrot cake aside though, I have found that Robert's is king, when it comes to cake - unless of course you happen to catch the last slice of a loaf baked the day before, in which case you're in for some still decent, but very dry mouthfuls. Their chocolate cake however I am still yet to catch on a bad day. Consistently moist and rich (my mouth is watering now just thinking about it), it is absolutely divine. The only complaint I can muster up after thinking really hard, would be about the sheer gynormousness (I make up words, get used to it) of the slices. I have left Robert's with many a chocolate cake-induced tummy ache, the fault being entirely mine of course (greed is a terrible thing) and not the chef's.

On the drinks front however is where Robert's tends to fall flat. The cappucinos and mochas leave much to be desired - my friend Carmen was so right when she termed the mochas "cups of Ovaltine with not even the slightest hint of coffee". The other fruit cocktails and juice mixes too tend to be on the watery side, and I am yet to order a glass of pineapple juice made from fruit that is actually sweet and ripe.

All things considered though, I am still very much a fan of Robert's Café, even moreso now that I've discovered just how chic the top floor is. My only worry is that I'll be forgotten completely by the waiters the day I do finally decide to sit there. Till then, I will continue to punish myself by holding onto the prime position in the smoker's section, praying all the while that no smoker comes along to wreck my little taste of heaven.