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If you feel cakes have veered into fever dream crossed with extravagantly baubled circus tent territory of late, come to Sandy Bake Shop. Down a Balmain back alley in a shop edged with fresh flowers and long communal tables, this is the place to re-calibrate your baked goods compass.

Here, the simple joy of a slice of cake and a nice cup of tea or coffee, can help put the world to rights. Run by baker Janelle Barnes, Sandy’s menu is simply cakes and biscuits, along with filter coffee, cold drinks and pots of tea in teapots, with knitted cosies.

It is small, simple and big-windowed with a counter festooned with cakes ranging from orange and poppyseed to orange and blackberry, raspberry-covered chocolate cake, flower-shaped gingerbread or towers of chocolate-chip biscuits.

All are made by Barnes, whose prowess in an open kitchen is soundtracked by customers gently clinking their cups onto saucers or tinkling golden teaspoons.

Sandy, which opened in September, is named after Barnes’ late mother, a nurse who loved pansies so much she had one tattooed on her hip. The shop’s front window features a large blue pansy flower painted across the glass. Barnes, who also has a pansy tattoo, says her aunt and grandmother were bakers, but not her mother. “It’s named after her for love, not through tradition,” she says.

There is a cake dedicated to Barnes’ grandmother, called Nana Loved a Carrot Cake, with cream cheese icing dollops resembling tiny pixie hats. Barnes, who grew up in New Zealand and has worked at Flour and Stone and Zumbo, says her nan preferred a simple piece of cake, with whipped cream on the side, and a flat white.

There is no barista or huge hissing coffee machine. A big Parker wall cabinet at one end holds platters and ceramics that, unlike the delicate items generations of aunts and grandmothers kept for good, are there to ferry cake and biscuits to tables. On Saturday mornings anyone can join a weekly craft circle at the communal tables.

Barnes opened Sandy after demand for her chocolate chip biscuits outgrew her oven. She fell in love with the venue, decided to sell cakes as well and promptly discovered customers wanted to stop for a cup of tea as well.

“It escalated from a tiny kitchen at home with your kids running around your ankles to a place where people can come and sit,” she says. “I have some lovely locals that just come by themselves and have a pot of tea or bring their dog for a chat or their kids run down the alleyway.

The cake counter has swelled to a daily range of about six. A staple is the apple and sage cake, a light, two-tiered apple cinnamon cake layered with fat oozes of caramel cream cheese frosting and topped with dried apple slices and a sage caramel.

Depending on the day, there are also muffins, soft pretzels, cinnamon buns and cheese scones. Last Christmas, Barnes baked peppermint creams and, word on the street is Barnes’s Simple is Best Birthday Cake, featuring layers of chocolate cake with chocolate frosting and festoon of rainbow sprinkles, is always finished by partygoers. Grown-ups are offered a version topped with fresh and freeze-dried raspberries.

“I have a lot of older people come in who say, ‘I just want a simple piece of cake’. And I say, ‘Here you go.’

“I don’t muck around with hundreds of layers. You’re not trying to get your mind around 500 textures and flavours, and you literally can taste that it’s got orange, or poppy seeds or apple and sage in it. There’s nothing swanky or wanky about it.”

Just be prepared for whatever Barnes suddenly decides to bake at five o’clock in the morning. The other day she woke with a desire to eat chocolate eclairs, which she did a few hours later.

“People around here are very concerned I only open three days,” she says. “One, I need to see my children on Sunday but also, if you spread it out, it becomes a treat. You can smell my baking out on the street so come in, try your luck and see what you can get.”