No. 01
The Deadlift Roll
A cinnamon roll the size of your post-leg-day appetite — pulled apart in slow, buttery layers and drowned in vanilla-bean glaze.
£6
STRONG HANDS.SOFT CENTERS.
Artisan bakes by Wiktoria Głowacka — a girl who counts her reps, never her bites. Real butter. Real sugar. Made obsessively well.
BAKED AT DAWN·
100% BUTTER, 0% APOLOGY·
SMALL BATCH, BIG NERVE·
POLISH RECIPES, WILD MANNERS
We believe in 5AM alarms and second slices. In cold plunges and warm pączki. In doing the work — then eating the cake like you mean it. Discipline isn't the opposite of indulgence. It's the reason ours tastes like this.
Welcome to the chaos. It's homemade.
— Wiktoria
The Baker
The fit girl who never gave up cake.
People assume girls who train don't eat dessert.
Wiktoria assumed they'd never met a Polish grandmother.
She grew up in Poland, where Sunday smelled like her babcia's sernik and nobody had ever heard of a "cheat day." Then she found the gym — and fell for it the way she falls for everything: completely. Programs. Progress. Protein. Five alarms a week before sunrise.
But the cravings never left. So she did what disciplined people do — she got obsessive about them. She learned lamination at midnight. Burned three batches of karmel to nail the fourth. Rebuilt her grandmother's recipes gram by gram, the same way she builds a training block.
Her kitchen looked like a riot. Her notebook looked like a science journal.
A friend looked at the flour on the ceiling and the timer on her phone and said: "You're sweet chaos."
It stuck. Then it became a bakery.
I don't earn my desserts. I just make them worth it.
— Wiktoria, baker & chaos coordinator
The Lineup
Built heavy. Baked wild.
Small batches, gone daily. Like her patience for bad desserts.
No. 02
Babcia's Sernik
Her grandmother's Polish baked cheesecake — dense, velvet-rich, and unbothered by your opinion of "light desserts."
£7
No. 03
Riot Brownie
70% dark chocolate, molten center, flaked sea salt — fudgy enough to require a moment of silence.
£5
No. 04
Friday Pączek
The Polish doughnut that started it all: pillow-soft, fried golden, bursting with rose-petal jam. Fridays only. Gone by ten.
£4
No. 05
The 5AM Croissant
Eighty-one laminated layers of cold butter and stubbornness, shattering on contact. Baked before her first coffee.
£5
No. 06
Szarlotka, But Louder
Warm Polish apple cake under a cinnamon-crumble avalanche — like autumn doing a victory lap.
£6
No. 07
The PR Cookie
Brown-butter chocolate chip, crisp edges, a center that never fully commits to solid. Personal records were made to be broken.
£4
No. 08
The Sweet Chaos Cake
The signature: butter-cream layers, burnt caramel, a crown of dark-chocolate shards arranged with deliberate violence.
£42
Baked in small batches. When it's gone, it's gone — train your reflexes.
Order Before It's Gone
The Method
Chaos, carefully measured.
Wild on the plate. Ruthless behind it. Every bake runs like a training program.
Step 01
THE WARM-UP
4:45AM. Ovens on, playlist loud. Dough that proofed overnight gets its wake-up call before the city does.
Step 02
THE FORM CHECK
Butter at exactly 13°C. Folds counted like reps. Lamination is just progressive overload for pastry.
Step 03
THE BURN
Caramel taken one breath past comfortable. Edges that crackle. This is where the chaos earns its name.
Step 04
THE PAYOFF
No shortcuts taken, so none taste like shortcuts. Out by seven. Devoured by noon.
Heavy on technique. Heavier on butter.
Word on the Street
Reviews from people who licked the box.
"I ran 10k just to get here before the pączki sold out. Worth every kilometre. Worth double."
— Marta K., regular & repeat offender"The Riot Brownie ended a four-year argument in my family about who makes the best brownie. It wasn't even close."
— Tomasz W., now buys six at a time"I ordered the Sweet Chaos Cake for a birthday. There was a moment of total silence at the table, and then someone whispered 'oh no.' Five stars."
— Ela & the entire accounting department
"Dangerously good."·
"The cinnamon roll of the year."·
"We came for the cake, stayed for the chaos."
The Feed
Squats & sernik, daily.
Gym chalk in the morning, powdered sugar by noon — same white dust, two religions. Follow along for oven reveals, kitchen fails, Polish classics gone loud, and the occasional PR.
EAT THE CAKE. MEAN IT.
Pickup, delivery, or a custom cake with your name on it. Baked at dawn, claimed by the fast.
Order the ChaosClick & Collect
Order tonight, collect tomorrow, still warm.
Reserve Yours →Local Delivery
The chaos comes to you, carefully boxed.
Get It Delivered →Custom Orders
Birthdays, weddings, breakups. She's got you.
Start a Cake Conversation →WED–SUN · 7:00 until sold out (usually noon, don't test it)