Ever since moving to the Deep South, I don’t find myself in Cape Town’s usual hotspots quite as often as I used to. And, if I’m being completely truthful, I don’t necessarily miss them. Maybe it’s age. Maybe I’ve officially entered my Deep South girlie era. I still love venturing into town, but the constant hustle and bustle doesn’t have quite the same pull it once did. 

Sea Point, in particular, isn’t somewhere I find myself nearly as often these days. I may have just found a reason to make a few more missions that side, though. Because somehow, despite living in Cape Town for almost my entire life, I had never been to Mischu. Which, considering it’s been sitting on Regent Road since 2012 and has become something of a Cape Town cafe institution, feels mildly ridiculous.

“Mischu felt so homely that I was five minutes away from taking my shoes off out of respect. I did not. There are limits.” 

Hospitality That Almost Had Me Taking My Shoes Off

Food is always going to matter to me. But there are places where the thing you remember just as clearly as what you ate is how you felt while you were there. Mischu was one of those. The welcome was ridiculously warm. Not the rehearsed “hello, welcome in” kind of hospitality, but the sort that immediately makes you feel as though someone has decided, “right, you’re ours now. Sit down, darling. We’ve got you.” And I believed them. Everyone was accommodating, friendly and completely unpretentious, and somehow the whole cafe started feeling less like somewhere I’d gone to work and more like someone’s home.

For context, I’m one of those people who takes my shoes off the second I walk into my home. I’ve done it for so long that now, even when I go to other people’s homes where shoes are completely acceptable, my instinct is still to remove them. Mischu felt so homely that I was five minutes away from taking my shoes off out of respect. I did not. There are limits.

Purely for Journalistic Reasons, Obviously

Once I’d established that shoes were, in fact, staying on, there was the very serious matter of choosing where to sit. Purely for journalistic reasons, I selected the comfy spot directly underneath the Mischu coffee-cup artwork on the wall. Was it comfortable? Yes. Was it also strategically positioned for an excellent photo moment? Also yes.

Cape Town Has Entered Its Matcha Era

Now, before anyone comes for me for going to one of Cape Town’s longstanding coffee spots and not ordering coffee, I do have an explanation. I was there for lunch, I’d already had my many coffees of the day, including the one absolutely required for the drive from the Deep South to Sea Point, and apparently Cape Town has decided that having a coffee culture simply isn’t enough anymore. We are very much in our matcha era. And look, clearly Cape Town doesn’t have enough matcha places already. I’m joking. Kind of. 

So we ordered both iced options: the Strawberry Cream Matcha and the Butterfly Pea Matcha. Obviously, we would both try both. Also obviously, I would then get dibs on whichever one I liked most. That’s just life.

These Are Matcha-Matchas

Something you should probably know before ordering one: these are matcha-matchas. As in, they actually taste like matcha. Revolutionary, I know. These are not for the fake matcha people who actually want strawberry syrup and milk with a little green colouring thrown in. These are for the macho matchas: the people who actually like that earthy, slightly grassy taste of matcha. It’s basically the same as people who say they love coffee and then order something at Starbucks containing seventeen pumps of syrup and a side of coffee. I said what I said.

The Strawberry Cream Matcha was definitely the creamier of the two, with a subtle strawberry sweetness that took the edge off the matcha without completely covering it up. There was a little syrupiness to it, but nothing that completely took over. If strawberry-and-cream situations are generally your thing, I’d probably send you in this direction. 

But I had a favourite. Of course I did. The Butterfly Pea Matcha. It was lighter, less creamy and had this softer, slightly floral thing going on that I really enjoyed. You still very much knew you were drinking matcha, but I found it a little more delicate than the strawberry one. And again, because apparently this needs to be said about matcha in 2026: don’t be surprised when your matcha tastes like matcha. It’s matcha. Who would have thought? I know, right? So yes, I somehow finally made it to Mischu, sat underneath an enormous picture of a coffee cup… and ordered matcha. Honestly, very on brand.

Carbs Were Obviously Going to Be Involved

It is absolutely no secret that I love carbs. I’m not ashamed of this. In fact, I’m quite proud. I don’t think Tim Noakes and I would ever be friends. People love to say less is more, and generally, fine. I’ll entertain it. Unless we’re talking about less bread. Then you’ve lost me completely.

So, when it came to lunch, we shared the Pulled Beef Flatbread and the Mediterranean Sourdough Sandwich. Because you need balance. You need your protein, because #GymEra. You need your vegetables, because, well… apparently we do need vegetables.

Less Is More. Unless It Means Less Bread.

I’m going to admit something. When the Pulled Beef Flatbread arrived, I thought it was going to be very simple. And it was simple. Just not in the disappointing way I was expecting. The beef had this proper savoury, meaty flavour, the cheese gave it exactly the right amount of richness, and the fresh tomato stopped everything from becoming too heavy. There was something weirdly nostalgic about it too. Not nostalgic in a “my grandmother used to make pulled beef flatbreads every Sunday” way, because she absolutely did not. More in that comforting, familiar, meat + melted cheese + bread can actually solve quite a few problems kind of way. It was also incredibly moreish without being drowned in cheese. Which I realise may be an unpopular opinion in the age of the dramatic cheese pull, but I actually like cheese in quantities where I can still identify the other ingredients on my plate. 

Healthy, but Make It Sourdough

The Mediterranean Sandwich basically exists to prove one of my long-held beliefs: healthy food becomes significantly more exciting when you sandwich it between two slices of bread. The combination of grilled aubergine, hummus, za’atar, tomato and baby spinach felt completely different from the flatbread, which is exactly why I loved having the two together. This one was fresh and substantial without feeling heavy. The hummus brought that nutty creaminess and the aubergine made everything feel properly satisfying. It was one of those vegetable-forward lunches that doesn’t leave you sitting there immediately planning what you’re going to eat afterwards. You know the ones. You finish your salad and immediately start planning a sandwich. None of that here. It had enough going on to actually feel like lunch, while still giving me the smug satisfaction of having eaten several vegetables.

And between the two dishes, I got exactly what I wanted: something warm, meaty and comforting on one side, something fresh and Mediterranean on the other. Best of both worlds. And, crucially, bread on both. As nature intended.

There Was Only One Thing Missing

Caffeine fix? Tick. Protein? Tick. Vegetables? Tick. Dessert? Pending. 



I’m not going to lie, I was actually getting pretty full by this point. But I have always believed that no meal is truly complete without something sweet. That could be a biscuit with your coffee. A little fruit-and-granola situation. A square of chocolate. Or sharing four pastries. Each to their own.

Before we got into the serious business of dessert, though, I spotted something else I loved about Mischu: games. And naturally, noughts and crosses had to come out. There’s something quite wholesome about a cafe that encourages you to actually sit, stay and entertain yourself for a while rather than inhaling your lunch and disappearing. It’s the kind of place that makes it very easy to forget you were only supposed to pop in for lunch.

Unfortunately for My Future Self, I Get the Hype

This brings us to dessert, and more importantly, my first ever crookie. I know. I KNOW. I am years late to this party. But, as established, I live in the Deep South now. Trends take slightly longer to reach us. And unfortunately for my future self, I completely understand the hype. Oh. My. Word. Warm, buttery, flaky croissant with this ooey-gooey chocolate-chip-cookie situation running through the middle, finished with crunchy cookie pieces on top. You’ve got soft. You’ve got crisp.

You’ve got flaky. You’ve got melty. You’ve got buttery. You’ve got chocolate. Basically, every texture that probably shouldn’t work together and somehow absolutely does. Stunning. Stunning. Stunning! This was genuinely one of the best pastry bites I’ve had in a very long time. And now that I’m writing this, I’m thinking about going back, ordering one with a coffee and doing a little crookie-dunking situation.

Because Apparently One Croissant-Based Dessert Wasn’t Enough

Then there was the Biscoff Cube. Because once you’ve already committed to dessert, there is really no reason to suddenly start behaving sensibly. Another croissant-based creation, this time shaped into a cube and loaded with Biscoff. Break into it and that warm, melty spread works its way into all those flaky little croissant layers and crevices. Honestly, what exactly would you like me to complain about here? Nothing. There is nothing. Health is wealth, people. And I am choosing to include emotional wellbeing in that calculation. Between the crookie and the Biscoff cube, I left feeling remarkably restored.

The Only Problem?

The only problem with Mischu? It’s far away from me. That’s it. That’s my complaint. Because somewhere between the ridiculously warm welcome, proper matcha, two very different but equally satisfying lunch choices and an aggressively good pastry situation, Mischu managed to make this Deep South girlie think that perhaps Sea Point isn’t quite as far away as I like to pretend it is. I may just need to start finding excuses to come this side more often. The service could be one. The food could be another. And then there’s the crookie that has, quite frankly, entered my dreams. Sea Point, you may be seeing more of me after all.