Connie L.
Yelp
So. I really wanted to like this place. I wanted my cousin's cakes to be perfect. It was anything but...
It was a sunny day in Brooklyn. A perfect day for an Opera cake and a passion fruit orange cake. And also, a birthday.
New York had just undergone three Nor'easters in three weeks. We were all traumatized at this point. This birthday party was supposed to pull us out of this funk. Thanks to these cakes, this did not happen.
I had called the Cobble Hill location a few days earlier to order these cakes. The guy picked up and said, "One moment, please," and he proceeded to take someone else's order WHILE I WAS ON THE LINE. (It was a small coffee, two sugars, no milk.) Once he got back on the line he told me he couldn't take my order and I had to call the Greenpoint location - which he apparently couldn't tell me before taking the other person's order. Fine. I'm nearing the end of my lunch hour, but fine. I called the other location.
We asked them to make cakes spell out "Happy Birthday" with "22" underneath, spread across both cakes. The lady seemed to understand and did not ask me to clarify so I assumed I would be getting the cakes we ordered with the script I specified. I suppose that's my mistake. I assumed. Wrongly.
Fast forward to today. The sun was shining. We had just finished a nice movie. It was a balmy 50°. It was the nicest it had been in New York in a long time.
The shopgirl opened the cake boxes. The cakes only had "Happy Birthday", no "22". I asked if they could add a name. Nope. They don't do that there. Did they have candles? Nope (We were kindly substituted with a plastic Happy Birthday sign even though we already had Happy Birthday on the cakes. Twice. Contrary to my instructions.). She gave me a knife when I asked, but not the kind for cutting cakes - it was small like the kind for takeout and it also came with a fork and spoon. I suppose if I was going to eat the entirety of these two cakes by myself this knife would prove useful. I was not.
The total came out to $52 - strange, I thought. Wasn't the Opera cake $25? The girl insisted it was $27 because it was a larger cake. I glanced at the box that the Opera cake was in, which did indeed look bigger so I took her at her word. She was so nice. Nice shopgirls can't possibly be scamming me. (To be clear, I am not upset about a $27 cake. It's the principle of paying $27 for a $25 cake that was not actually bigger, nor tastier, nor in any other way better than the other cake and presumably other people only pay $25 for the same cake I bought.).
I come home. I check the website. $25 for a six inch Opera cake. I check the cakes. They're the same diameter (see attached photos).
On second thought, maybe I am being charged for the larger box! Or the extra 7.7 square inches that comes from a square cake vs. a circular cake. Look ma, I just did some middle school math that I refused to do in middle school to figure out the difference between a 6 inch square and a 6 inch circle. This is what these cakes have done to me.
I taste them at the party. They were okay - nothing to write home about and certainly not worth me trekking out into the bougie wilds of Brooklyn.
The passion fruit orange cake was slightly better than the Opera cake (which, as we know, I paid extra for). The former was somewhat moist and had a nice flavor. The latter was simultaneously dry and cloying. Hazelnut flavor? Negligible. Coffee flavor? The merest hint of it. To no one's surprise, no one finished their Opera cake slices.
If it was only one or two of these issues, this review might have been four or even five stars. As all of these issues compounded on top of each other, I regretfully give Charlotte Patisserie 1 star. Pity. ¯\_(ツ)_/¯