Arriving at noon, the security guard cheerfully directed me to a parking spot. Yup, despite it being a Friday midday, this café — known for its wide variety of soft donuts and other pastries — was already packed. Probably because many people were still on holiday in Jogja, not yet part of the second wave of back to reality. The New Year break really is a tourism peak for Jogja, when millions of people flood its attractions from the city to the countryside. With such a wide range of themed experiences on offer, culinary tourism seems to have become a go-to sub-industry.

Back to this pastry shop — an industrial concept radiates strongly from its architecture. Since my friends had already arrived ahead of me, I decided to look for them while taking in the elegant corners of the place.

The main building turns out to be used as a furniture gallery across both its floors. From the front, the tiered roof design reminds me of Hindu civilisation architecture — a minimalist version. The sight of grass on each tier inspired me to think about urban farming possibilities on flat-roofed buildings like this.

Well, it turned out my friend was in the indoor area, decorated to resemble Bali-style tropical cafes. Although it was indoors and open, the lush trees kept it shaded and out of the midday sun. Cool and pleasant. The use of wooden materials made everything feel aesthetic, consistent with the various furniture sets freely available for visitors to occupy.

“Let me order first,” I said, heading toward the ordering counter. The second building at the back sold a variety of lovely souvenirs, from clothing to home decor. I felt that these handicrafts would suit homes in tropical climates quite well.

While waiting my turn to order, I let my eyes wander. Although this café’s signature item is the donut, the other pastries were also being snapped up by visitors. Faced with the menu, my camera naturally got to work documenting the beautifully photographed list of food, drinks, and snacks. Despite all the other options, I still felt drawn to their donuts. So far, Kalis is the only local donut I’d tried, and Nest would become my benchmark for comparison.

“Anything else?” asked the cashier with a slight smile.

“Hmm, let me see — red velvet, please,” I said, pointing at the donut with red sprinkles perched alone on the shelf behind the cashier.

“Here’s your receipt — we’ll bring your order to you.”

Back at the table, I was once again the busiest person there. Understandably so — the first Friday after New Year wasn’t a holiday for me, because even though I work for a multinational company, I still follow Indonesia’s calendar, including the black-coloured working days. I opened my laptop, which became a sort of prop in the midday conversation — though of course I’d planned to “make up” those work hours in the evening.

“Order for Hendri!”

I raised my hand immediately. The three plump donuts were arranged side by side. Admittedly a bit awkward — the tray used could fit four.

“You bought three?! That’s a lot!”

“Well, I’m a seasoned content creator,” I replied, standing up and leaning forward, brow furrowed in concentration as I adjusted the composition of photos within their frames.

Between conversations, I started in on the chocolate donut. The softness of these donuts is no exaggeration — the perfectly balanced sweetness put Kalis in second place, at least for now. Bite by bite, the donut landed in my mouth, and despite its standard size, its density was genuinely filling. Chocolate done, red velvet became the next target. The red crumble topping was incredibly crunchy — it felt almost wrong to rush through this second donut. I gracefully rested my spoon and fork across the rim of the tray, and confidently set aside the last donut to take home.

Before I knew it, the asr call to prayer rang out. There’s a small prayer room accessible on the second floor — fitting for about 4 people. To get there, I had to pass through the furniture boutique, which was arranged beautifully and felt unmistakably Indonesian. Naturally, the indoor decor drew every visitor to take selfies, especially in front of the mirror at the far end of the room.

It felt like IKEA — the Southeast Asian version.