Fable

Hard to distinguish hipster from Vancouverite, but that’s probably the Toronto in me talking. Six of the nine wait staff wore plaid (back of house working in a lovely open kitchen monolpolizing the restaurant’s front wore black). The washroom toilet paper was held on antlers.

Our group of six waited for a few minutes on the curb before being escorted into Fable, to be lodged in the back corner of the popular brunch spot. Their menu intrigued, but what sold me was their special, a duck benny, served with a whipped olive oil hollandaise, square of rosti (a finer purée of potato shaped into an oblong that lacked any of the charactereristic shredded texture), and house greens. While the hollandaise that covered the duck, poached eggs, and English muffin was an interesting, fluffy texture akin to an undercooked baked Alaska (and I’m told it’s impressive for scientific reasons), its sharp citrus distracted from the duck’s rich, greasy flavour. My brunch Caesar’s was well made, but whatever additives beyond the norm (a house bbq, pepperoni/bean garnish), it was killed by the ice used. While savoury was lacking, the French toast piled with marscapone, berries, and candied walnuts (dry and foamy, not sticky, how curious) was a pleasant finish to brunch.

The heavy bill came with a thin, two-bite chocolate chip cookie, which did leave me with a smile. Yet half a block out the front door, I was struck by the most annoying feeling: I was still hungry. So much for a filling brunch. They may have some interesting ideas, but I wouldn’t go back.

Fable
1944 West 4th Ave, Vancouver V6J 1M5

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