Photograph by Katherine Bish
2203 S. 39th
South City
314-771-4278
Lunch and dinner, Tue–Sat
Average Main Course: $6–$7
Saturday, 10:07 a.m. SweetArt—a daytime art space and vegetarian
bakeshop/café that opened last fall near Tower Grove Park—began serving breakfast seven minutes ago, and the line’s already five parties deep. Out on the floor, only one open table remains. My friend stakes it out, first pit-stopping at the café’s handy rack of reading material and absconding with The New Yorker, Dwell, InStyle, and O.
10:14 a.m. I’m finally close enough to see what’s atop the counter (quiches, cinnamon rolls) and what’s inside the glass bakery case (cupcakes, cupcakes, cupcakes). But surely there’s more. Fasts are not broken by quiche and pastries alone. There must be an unseen menu listing the real draws (brunch!). But the blackboard above the register mentions only lunch and dinner provisions. I’m starting to wonder just what is going on here. People don’t wait in lines for quiche.
10:16 a.m. The man behind me notices my consternation. “Their quiches are unbelievable,” he tells me. I take a second look and do a double take. These quiches have crusts that overreach the quiche itself; they’re high as parapets. They’re also going fast.
10:31 a.m. At last, my party of two is presented with its pieces of quiche. Both are very eggy. If you’ve ever seen a quiche that’s more veggie than egg, this is not that quiche. This one was proudly yellow, with baked-in slashes and swirls of roasted red peppers, red onions, spinach, mushroom, and nonmeat bacon.
10:32 a.m. A moment—and a quiche—I’ll never forget. SweetArt’s quiche contains textures I’ve never experienced before. I’d thought the notion of creamy eggs was the stuff of folly, but this quiche felt voluptuous and slippery-smooth on the tongue. This crust was like a perfect tea cookie, its delicate crispness fit for a queen.
10:44 a.m. We go halvesies on a cinnamon roll. Bucking the trend in the room, I request ours heated. As outsize as our pieces of quiche, the pastry evokes memories of my late grandma’s sticky buns. Especially reminiscent is the gooey frosting, so saturated with real cane sugar I swear I can hear granules of it squishing between my molars.
10:49 a.m. Madness erupts—people are eating cupcakes for breakfast! The quiche and sticky buns have run out, and lunch service starts in 11 minutes, but nobody wants to wait. What’s the fuss all about? For us, it’s all about an out-of-this-world French-toast cupcake, redolent of maple, and the Fauxstess, a homemade Hostess cupcake with a piped squiggly-swirl on top. We also take to the Hummingbird, with cream-cheese frosting, the cake dotted with banana, pineapple, and pecan. We venture a lemon vegan cupcake (no egg, no butter). Not bad, but nowhere near as rich.
5:27 p.m. I return for a large to-go dinner: veggie wraps, grilled cheese, mixed-green salads, a quesadilla. Some items (a spinach-and-herb hummus) are better executed than others (organic barbecue tofu on a wheat bun, too disparate in flavor and mouthfeel). It’s good, but you can find it at myriad other hippie coffeehouses. I’ll be setting my internal alarm clock early come Tuesday morn.
Bottom Line: Breakfast is the most deluxe meal of the day here—and should include a dessert course.
