The Fern & Fable: A Restaurant Review
By Ridley Longsworth
The Fern & Fable is the kind of café that makes you feel like you accidentally walked into a high-budget commercial for insurance or name-brand dish soap. It is perfectly, relentlessly pleasant. There is not a single scuff on the whitewashed floorboards, and every potted plant looks like it has been coached on how to grow in the most photogenic direction possible. It is a space designed for people who want the idea of a coffee shop without any of the actual mess that comes with human beings existing in a room together.
When you walk in, you are met with a wall of sound that consists entirely of “Lo-Fi Hip Hop Beats To Study/Relax To.” It is played at a volume that is just high enough to prevent you from having a private conversation, but low enough that it feels like a soft wool blanket is being held over your face. It’s undeniably beautiful, and yet, five minutes after sitting down, I found myself desperately wishing someone would drop a tray or yell at a delivery driver just to break the spell.
The menu is a masterpiece of modern font choices. I ordered the “Signature Oat Miel,” which the barista told me was their most popular drink. The barista was perfectly polite, wearing a linen apron that looked like it had never met a coffee stain in its life. He smiled with exactly the right amount of teeth and asked if I wanted my name on the cup. When the drink arrived, the latte art was a flawless rosette. It was almost too symmetrical to drink.
As for the taste, it was…fine. It was the absolute middle of the road. The espresso was mild, the oatmilk was creamy, and the honey was sweet. It tasted exactly like every other thirty-dollar bag of “ethically sourced” beans I’ve ever had. There was no bitterness, but there was also no character. It was a drink that was impossible to hate and equally impossible to remember. I also tried the avocado toast, because apparently it’s a legal requirement for shops like this to serve it. It came topped with “micro-greens” and a sprinkle of chili flakes that looked like they had been placed there with a pair of tweezers. It was fresh, it was crunchy, and it was entirely devoid of any soul.
The customers at The Fern & Fable are all part of the aesthetic. Everyone is sitting behind a very thin, very silver laptop. No one is talking. The only noise is the light tapping of keys and the occasional hiss of the milk steamer. It’s a great place to go if you need to finish a spreadsheet or if you want to take a photo of your shoes against a nice floor. If you want a place that feels alive, or a place where the coffee tells a story about where it came from, this isn’t it.
The Fern & Fable is a “decent” café in the same way a boutique hotel lobby is a “decent” living room. It provides everything you ask for but gives you nothing you didn’t expect. I left feeling caffeinated and strangely empty, like I had just spent an hour inside a very nice screensaver. It’s the perfect spot for when you want to disappear into the background of your own life for a while. Rating: 3/5 Stars
This piece is part of my satirical “Restaurant Review” series. You can also read my reviews of Aperture & Void and The Rusty Hubcap (both fictional establishments, just like The Fern & Fable). Any resemblance to actual restaurants is purely coincidental.
